Another time

“How was jail? Did you do alright after all?” you asked Gerritt, who was stewing over a steaming mug at the kitchen table.

“They evened me up, look” he pointed to his opposite eyebrow, which was indeed split like the other.

“And you thought you wouldn’t thrive in there” you teased, and he smirked sleepily. He’d made his way into the kitchen at first light, and by the sight, smell, and sound of him, this was the first home he’d been to since getting out of jail.

“You smell like the bakery. And by that, I mean copious barrels of alcohol” you leaned over a chair, resting your elbows on its back.

He was slumped down in the chair, the first four buttons of his shirt open, hair dishevelled.

“Did you worry about me?” he asked.

“I worried about all of you” you insisted, and he began to chuckle.

“You know- “he took at least 20 seconds to roll himself upright and get reacquainted with his bearings before he continued “you’re sort of our mother now”

“Where in the hell did you get that idea? Is it the brain damage they gave you in prison?” you asked.

“I mean, you’re married to the big boss. You’re looking after us all” he waved his free hand about, and you kept your expression dull.

“It suits you” he decided, and you rolled your eyes, pulling the chair you were leaning on out and sitting in it.

“Well, with Kaye gone- “

“Good on you” he encouraged, raising his cup in a toast.

“With him gone, and the charges scrapped, and the truce…appearing to hold…somewhat. For now. I’m sure that’ll have to be worked on soon, but…” you shrugged “I guess everything goes back to whatever normal around here looks like. So, I’m, yeah, mothering now, I guess. To pass the time.”

“How’s married life? Shall we expect actual motherhood soon?” he asked with a glint in his eye and you picked up a piece of the semi-burnt toast he’d been preparing for himself and flung it straight between his matching black eyes.

“Oh, toast” Toby exclaimed, rushing into the room with Pickles flickering under his arm. He picked up a piece, lowering the dog to the tiles, and offering it to him. Once he was satisfied that the dog was fed, he rose, and let his eyes wander across the table.

“Did you not get any jam while we were out?” he asked, setting innocent eyes on you, and you sighed heavily.

“It’s great to have you all home” you nodded, smiling through the sarcasm.

-

“Where, this one?” you pointed out with your free hand. The other was in Alfie’s grasp, tucked into his big cosy coat pocket as the two of you strolled through the fallen leaves. The graveyard was laid out in long rows and he motioned passed a big ornamental marker.

“Yeah, just here” he said as you approached.

The two of you stopped, turning in to face the grave.