Belsize Park || Kate & Leo

☆ Fourteen ☆

Joe has never been a morning person. Not ever. But this morning he is. He pads softly into the room, and beckons me into the corridor. I look behind as I leave Bear asleep, and I hope he will stay that way until I get back. I rub the haze from my eyes.

“Morning Joe,” my eyes crinkle, and I move my hands closer to him, my heart beating faster. Please say everything’s fine. Please. “Are you… are you okay?” He nods, and a smile stretches from his left ear to his right ear. “Dad, I’ve been clean for a week now.”
A wave of relief drowns me, and I exhale, completely deflating my lungs. A smile takes over my whole body, and I’m pretty sure that if it was biologically possible, I would be glowing right about now.
“And the bad thoughts are… less frequent.”
“You still have them?”
He nods, but the smile still stretches across his face. “Yes, but I’ve been rationalising them, you know, making sure they have less impact on my life.”
I hold my arms out. He doesn’t do hugs now. It’s a teenage thing we went through with Mia, but never Joe. Not until you died anyway. I don’t expect him to do anything but scoff and walk away, but he inches closer to me, and wraps his arms around me and lays his head on my chest. He’s about 5’ 7” and his head comes to the nape of my neck. He’s warm, but a shiver courses down my entire body. I don’t remember the last time I hugged him like this. It’s… nice.
He pulls away, and I watch his eyes. They’re identical to yours. Blue - green — silver springs. Swirls of complicated emotions, happiness, pride, sadness, grief. His cheeks redden, and I see you in his face, in the way he looks at me.
“I am so proud of you, Joey. Your mom would be so proud.”
We end up at the Vancouver aquarium three hours later. I lead them through to this big blue tunnel, just a glass dome separating us and various sea creatures… and lots of water. When you look around, your face becomes ignited with the blue light, and you can see the ripples of the water dancing across your face. Shadows of fish cross overhead, and the tunnel seems to go on forever in front of us. Bear immediately lets go of my hand and sits down in the middle of the floor, gazing up with this refreshing wonder that you only see in children. His eyebrows are raised, his mouth is agape, and his index finger is tracing the movement of a blue tang fish.
“Daddy, it’s Dory!” He exclaims. When Mia was six, and Joe was three, they picked up your phone and answered the call. It was Ellen. They were both determined to get on the phone, taking the opportunity to answer whilst you were baking cookies. You soon realised they had your phone and rushed into the living room, dusting flour onto your jeans, and ushering them away with a kind smile as you perched on the armchair next to me, pressing the phone to your ear, and excitedly telling Ellen about your Academy Award nomination. I pressed a kiss into your hair, rubbing your arm. We had been drinking all of the previous day and we were really really sleepy. Mia and Joe had spent the night at your parent’s house, and when we received the call telling us you had been nominated, we were glad the kids weren’t there because we drank so much, and were so loud and excitable.

Our youngest son watches Dory flitter across his head, and Mia and Joe sit either side of him, laying their heads on each of his shoulders. I watch them for a moment, not caring to pay any attention to the fish swimming. They may be marvellous, but our kids are more marvellous. I sit next to Joe, and my eyes well with tears. We are all happy, all safe. It’s the first time I’ve spent time with the kids for the past year, where one of them would rather be anywhere else, or would rather be in the company of fictional characters instead of their father and brothers. It’s nice to have them back, real nice. Next step: you. I hang my head, shaking you away. We’re having a nice time, we’re happy. Thinking of trying to get you back instead of cherishing the memories we had is counterproductive. It makes me sad, makes the kids sad, and we’re choosing to be happy, to remember you in a happy way. Bear stands up, and runs down the tunnel before any of us can react. He disappears, and Mia is up and after him, screaming his name. Joe laughs, a real belly laugh as he cranes his neck, and slowly stands up.
“He won’t have gone far, dad,” he chuckles. “He’s probably just gone to see the frogs.”
“The frogs?”
“They have frogs here.”
I blink, zoning back in. “Oh yes, sorry Joe. Come on, let's go find them.”