The problem is something else.
Something much bigger.
And its name is Casey Madigan.
4
Nick
“I’m home!” I close the door and head straight for the kitchen, which is filled with the scent of Mum’s stuffed vegetables.
“Oh, you’re here too,” I say through my teeth, finding Ryan making himself comfortable at the table.
“I could say the same thing,” he shoots back indifferently.
“Hey, Nick,” Evan says, coming through the back door from the garden.
This house gets more crowded every day. Instead of fucking off and getting on with their own lives, everyone has decided to bring themselves here, crammed into one big, happy family.
“I’ve set the table outside, Karen,” he then says to my mother.
“Thanks, Evan. Where’s my husband?”
“He’s outside getting some air.”
My mother smiles, despite the tiredness I can see leaking through the cracks of her gaze. Her movements are getting slower and slower.
“How is he?” I ask her.
“He’s fine, Nick. Don’t worry.” But from the uncertainty in her voice, I know that she’s lying to me. She’s been doing that a lot recently, and we all just pretend to believe her.
“Evan,” I say, turning to him. “I think I’ve left my phone in the car. Could you go and grab it for me?” I chuck him the keys. He considers for a moment, watching my face – but he doesn’t buy it. He’s not an idiot.
“I know about everything, you know. You don’t have to send me outside for the difficult conversations. Even my mum hasn’t done that for about ten years.”
Ryan shakes his head and stands up to place a hand on the boy’s shoulder, both friendly and paternal. Dear God, I can’t believe Ryan is actually this kid’s stepdad.
Mum turns to us, leaning against the kitchen counter.
“What do you need to tell me, Nick?”
I take a deep breath and drop the bomb before it can explode in my stomach, hoping that Ryan will help me soften the blow of the explosion.
“You can’t do it, Mum. Not on your own.”
Mum closes her eyes.
“We do what we can, but it’s not enough. You need help.”
“He’s right.” Wow, little Ryan’s decided he’s on my side for once. That’s a first.
“Dad needs to start his physio, and we can’t keep putting it off,” I continue cautiously.
About six weeks ago, my father had an accident at home: he lost his balance coming down the stairs and his knee gave in. They operated on his meniscus, but it wasn’t a good period for any of us. He was pretty much immobile and they were worried that his condition would get worse.
“Here I am! Sorry I’m late,” Chris bursts breathlessly into the kitchen. She plants a kiss on Mum’s cheek, then Ryan’s, then ruffles Evan’s hair. “The place was so busy today, I was almost turning customers away.” She glances at the oven, obviously attracted by the smell of dinner cooking, then she looks up at us and immediately notices the tenseness in the air.
“Have I interrupted something?” she asks, concerned.
