CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
SHORT
As I pull up to the house, I see Pippa’s car reversing out of my driveway, and I return the wave she offers to me. Thankful Bronwyn’s not been left all alone to brood, I paddle-walk my bike in front of the garage, then open it and wheel the bike in to hide the view of it from the road. I’m taking no risks and won’t give any indication that I live here.
I empty my overstuffed saddlebags, grab the contents, and try not to drop them as I make my way to the door. I have to juggle my burden to get the key in the lock, but I finally manage it and get inside with everything intact.
“Bron? I’m home.” It’s crazy how satisfying that simple statement is to me.
She appears in the lounge doorway, her eyes widening as she sees what I’m carrying. “What on earth have you got there?”
“Shit for Trip,” I reply with a grin. “Freak suggested he might need things to entertain him. Where is he anyway?”
As she motions to the room behind her, I move forward, causing her to turn sideways to let me and the surprises I’ve purchased through.
“Hey, Trip.” Now used to the way he doesn’t respond to his name like a regular kid, I make my way toward him. Seeing his focus is on some cartoon playing on the television, I drop to the floor just to the side of it, and gracefully let the boxes I’ve wrestled in fall to the ground. I’m gratified when his eyes flick toward me, before turning back to the program he’s watching.
First, I unwrap the toy garage I’d purchased, along with a selection of cars. Ignoring Trip, I slowly take all the vehicles out of their boxes and place them around. The cars I’ve chosen are the pull-back and let-go type, so soon I’m shooting them all around the room. Forgetting whatever dignity I ever had, on hands and knees, I retrieve them, then do it again.
“Vroom, vroom,” I murmur each time, losing more of my self-respect. But I repeat my actions over and over as I realise my antics have got the boy’s attention.
I don’t know how many times I have to crawl on the floor, gathering up the cars that go everywhere, including under the couch. But again, I ignore what I look like as I have to reach for it with my ass in the air, but finally, Trip slides off the couch.
At first, he just watches what I’m doing, but when I slide a car toward him, he gingerly picks it up. Demonstrating how pulling it back gets the wheels spinning, I release another few cars, and then, finally, exactly what I hoped for but had no real expectation of, he joins in. Reaching out, he picks up a car and tries to get it moving. It’s a feeble attempt, and it doesn’t go far.
His little brow creases, then he tries another, this time putting more effort in, and it moves the length of the couch. Studiously, he picks up another, and this time it hits the opposite wall.
Hearing Bronwyn’s gasp from behind me, I turn to see her watching with tears in her eyes. Shuffling over to make space for her, I instruct, “Come join in the fun, Little Momma.”
After only a brief hesitation, she folds herself to her knees and occupies the space I’ve made for her. I hand her a car while also taking one for myself. As she sets hers going, I aim mine straight for it. The two cars crash and upend themselves.
“You did that on purpose.”
Her offended accusation makes me chuckle, so I do the same on her second attempt.
It’s then a croaky sound startles both of us, and looking up, we can see Trip’s lips curving.He’d tried to laugh.
Bronwyn looks at me in stunned amazement, then takes hold of another car. This time, I let mine go first, and she purposefully crashes hers into it. Then Trip sends a car directly into the accident we’ve just caused, and that rusty sound comes again.
“Trip, do you want to see what else I’ve bought you?”
This time, I’m awarded with his attention directly, and I delve into the pile of toys next to me. I pull out a soft, fluffy teddy bear and pretend to cuddle it, and for my pains see Trip hesitantly reaching his hands out to me. I give him the toy, and he snuggles it immediately.
“Has he not had a teddy before?” I ask Bronwyn quietly.
“I don’t know if he did when he was young,” she admits heavily. “But I’ve never seen him with one recently.”
Of course, when I saw the remote-controlled toy motorbike, I had to buy it. Trip’s eyes literally light up when he sees it. After making sure I’ve got the batteries in right, I turn it on, start it moving, and try to steer it. But it’s not like a car. Having only two wheels makes it unstable, and it moves just a foot before toppling over. Trip crawls and retrieves it. Thinking maybe it needs more room to get up to a good stabilising speed, I put down the remote, then notice Trip’s reaction. He’s holding it and studying it with a look of bliss on his face.
Kid after my own heart.
The next items I place in front of him are a selection of books. I didn’t know what on earth to get him, but I chose a few early readers and some comics that would be closer to his actual age.
These he ignores in preference to the teddy he’s still cuddling tight, and the motorbike he's cradling in his other hand.
Bronwyn’s soft sobbing beside me makes me realise she’s not witnessed this kind of behaviour before, and I have to subdue the rage rising within me.Kid’s been neglected for sure.Not her fault, though, but her fucking family. While Trip’s obviously got developmental problems, it makes me wonder whether they all stem from the incest through which he was conceived, or whether it’s neglect and constant punishment that’s made him turn inward.
But that’s not a conversation to be had with Bronwyn now.
