He nods, but I fear it’s more out of politeness than genuine gratitude. I need to sell him the benefits.
‘You can could come and go as you pleased, if you had any friends who wanted to stay over, that’d be fine too. You could redecorate a room to your taste ... whatever makes you comfortable. It’d be your house just as much as it is mine.’ I stop when I sense I’m becoming too animated, too pushy. But the idea of having my son live with me excites me. ‘Is the food all right?’ I ask instead.
‘It’s great,’ he says.
‘Only you’ve not eaten much of the beef. Have I overcooked it? I have some steak in the fridge if you want me to fry that instead ...’
‘No, it’s fine. I try not to eat too much red meat.’
‘Really? Why? The iron is good for you.’
‘My grandfather had bowel cancer a couple of years ago so we try and avoid it at home.’
‘Well, if it’s hereditary it’s not going to affect you, is it? There’s no history of bowel cancer in your real family.’ I fail to mention the lump in Maggie’s breast that is quietly causing a division in the house.
‘Theyaremy real family,’ he responds.
He doesn’t understand what I’m trying to say so I try to clarify. ‘I understand why you might think that, but technically they’re just the family who took you in. You and I are related by blood.’
He puts his knife and fork down on his plate with a clank. ‘They did more than just “take me in”, Nina. They gave me a home; they gave me a life.’
‘Yours wasn’t a life to be given away. And if they can’t cope with how close you and I have become, then perhaps they don’t have your best interests at heart.’
‘Like I’ve explained to you many times before, I don’t want to hurt them.’
‘I know that, but maybe putting their feelings first isn’t always the right thing to do. What about how you feel? Or how this affects me?’
‘You?’
‘Well, yes. It’s not nice being someone’s little secret. It’s as if you’re ashamed of me.’
‘I’m not ...’
‘So you’ll tell them soon?’
‘I didn’t say that.’
‘You can come here to live—’
‘To live? A few minutes ago you said it was “to stay”.’
This is going from bad to worse, and now he’s making me muddle my words. ‘Live, stay, it doesn’t matter. You would enjoy being here, you’d bring new life into this dusty old place.’
‘Nina,’ he says firmly. ‘You can’t use me to get out of your rut. It’s not fair.’
‘I ... I’m not,’ I stutter. ‘I just like spending time with you.’
‘And that’s what we have been doing. But sometimes you can be ... overbearing.’
‘When?’
‘You make me feel guilty if I don’t stick to your plans. You call if I haven’t replied to your texts within fifteen minutes. You get upset if I don’t message you before I go to bed. You’ve turned up at the office to see me unannounced. You keep buying me expensive presents I don’t need. It all makes me feel a little ... awkward.’
He’s referring to the designer jacket we saw on a shopping trip to Milton Keynes. He’d been offhand with me that day so when he expressed an interest in it, I looked it up online the next day and ordered it. It cost me a week’s wages but if it made him happy, it was worth it. However, when I saw him next and presented it to him, he refused to accept it and asked me to stop buying him things. So I sent it by post to his office instead.
‘I do it because that’s what parents do. I love you.’
‘And then there’s tonight and you constantly reminding me that my parents aren’t my blood relatives. I know they’re not and it doesn’t bother me. But it’s like you’re trying to place a wedge between us so that you can have me for yourself.’
