Eating with Isha had become such a part of our fuck, eat, sleep routine that I hadn’t accounted for how hard it would be to do it around other people, in public, with his kids right there. At home—my home, at least—we ate naked, legs entwined, feeding each other random food without a care for who might see.
In the crowded burger bar, I was losing my mind. Noise, loud music, and a million pairs of eyes stopping me doing what I wanted. What I needed. Which was to shove chips into Isha’s mouth and lick the salt from his lips.
I shifted in my seat, craving a moment when I wouldn’t be caught between wanting to declare my undying love to Isha, fuck his brains out, and punch him in the dick. Eating was a decent distraction, but there was only so long I could make a double cheeseburger last, especially when I was hungry enough to eat Delilah’s chicken nuggets.
Isha picked at his food. I was tempted to reach across the table and swipe his leftovers too, but the possibility that I might forget myself and take his hand was too real.
I settled for people watching, and confirming the reality that I disliked most people. That I liked Isha enough to be having palpitations over the reality that he would never want more than our fucked up brand of friendship from me was terrifying. I’d lived with a malfunctioning brain my whole life, but I’d never felt so lost.
There was movement around me. Isha rose from the table and disappeared. It took a moment for me to realise that he was paying the bill, not leaving me. Right, because he’d really abandon his kids.
The Isha who still believed he was a terrible father might’ve thought so, but Isha wasn’t a terrible father. He was amazing. He just didn’t know it.
So tell him.
Delilah nudged me. “Can we watchIce Age?”
“What?”
“Ice Age,” she repeated. “We always watch it at Dad’s house.”
“Um…”
Isha came back to the table, stuffing his wallet into his pocket. “Don’t start,” he said before I could speak. “I bought you dinner because you gave up your Saturday to be here. And because I fucking wanted to.”
Tam’s eyes widened. I spoke quickly to move the conversation on before the impact of Isha’s potty mouth took hold. “Fair enough. That means I’m making the popcorn.”
“What?”
“Ice Age.” I stood, bringing Delilah with me. “That’s what we’re watching.”
* * *
I hadno clue if Isha actually wanted me in his house, but I was too fascinated by studying how he lived when he wasn’t holed up with me to care.
The Primrose Hill house was big, and clearly expensive, but the luxury I’d expected was startlingly absent. The kitchen was old-fashioned, the sparse furniture dated. Without the laughter of his children it wouldn’t have felt like a home at all.
Delilah showed me round. I tried to resist the urge to peek into Isha’s bedroom. Failed, naturally. The room contained only a bed, a horrible leather chair, and a rail stacked with dozens of blandly identical shirts. No photos or ornaments. It wasn’t minimalist as much as depressing. “It looks like no one lives here,” I blurted before I caught myself.
“Daddy lives here, silly.” Delilah yanked me down the hall to her own room, thankfully missing the point.
Downstairs, Tam was setting up the living room for watchingIce Age. Isha was nowhere to be seen. I thought about going to find him, but I didn’t have the energy for another conversation that went nowhere. Isha’s couch was old and comfortable. I sat with Delilah and closed my eyes until a hand much larger than hers warmed my shoulder.
Isha.
Delilah was gone, and he was crouching in front of me. “Tired?”
“What? No, I’m okay.”
He shot me a knowing glance and rose, his hand slipping from my shoulder. I mourned the loss of his touch and sat up, ignoring the crick in my neck from whatever I’d done in the time I’d apparently lost.
The children were on the floor, curled up on a bean bag at my feet. Before I had time to wonder where Isha would sit, he dropped onto the couch beside me. He passed a bowl of Doritos to Tam and sat back without looking at me. I tried to imagine that, by now, I knew him well enough to believe it was taking a big effort to ignore me, but did I? As crazy as my feeling for him had become, did I really know him at all?
Of course you know him. He’s slept in your bed more nights than you can count.
That wasn’t quite true. If I stopped to think about it, I probably could count the nights Isha had shared my bed, but I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to stop and think about anything. The angst carousel in my brain was giving me a headache, and a few mindless hours staring at a cartoon sounded like the best thing in the world.
Tam put the film on. I sank back into the couch and tried to keep my eyes open, though I didn’t feel particularly sleepy. It was more that I needed a break from the world, and the blankness of behind my eyelids was the only place I could hide.
