“Jake isn’t the kind of dog you want to throw a bone to,” I tell her.
She shrugs. “In that case, I’d say just keep on doing what you’re doing. Start keeping records of your interaction. Refuse to take the paternity test. It’s your name on Cameron’s birth certificate, and you were Mariana’s common law partner when she passed away. Legally, at this time, Cameron is undeniably your son. The onus will very much be on your brother to prove otherwise.”
I thank her for her time, even though I’ll pay through the nose for every second of it.
The sun is shining bright when I step outside and head back to my truck. I check the time. Early enough that I should head back for the last of the daily shipments. Late enough that I don’t want to.
I can’t remember the last time I’ve taken an afternoon for myself during work time. The combination of the warmth of the sun on my back and the need to take my sunglasses from the glovebox makes my decision for me.
Instead of taking a left back onto the industrial estate, I take a right.
I cruise back up the hillside with my window down low and music up high, feeling ten years younger and a whole lot wiser than I did this time yesterday.
Happier, too.
And it’s not just from the sun.
Serena nearly falls over herself as I pull onto the driveway. I see her through the window, pointing me out to Cam. And how my boy smiles. He smiles and waves, and I forget in that one moment that he’s anything other than a normal kid enjoying the summer.
Maybe treating him like he’s anything else has been the problem all along.
It’s the perfect day to finish up my refurbishments on the swimming pool. It’s also one of the only bastard times we’ll get to use it, given the fact it’s raining at least eighty percent of the time up here.
The pool was Mariana’s whim, definitely not mine, and far enough back that I indulged her.
I only scoop Cameron up for a minute on the way through before I’m straight out there working out what still needs doing.
And then I remember why I agreed to this stupid installation in the first place.
Our house is positioned right on the slope of the Malverns. The ground drops sharply away and rolls down to the town below. The pool is down three flights of steps from the back porch. It had to be that way to clear enough ground space to house the thing.
It’s heated, but barely. It’s shallow enough at the deep end that my toes still touch the floor and barely long enough to get a decent swim out of.
It’s saving grace is that it’s an infinity design. Another one of Mariana’s whims.
In that pool you feel like you’re on the edge of the world. No barriers. No manmade protrusions. Just a ledge and the whole fucking vista down below.
Mariana used to say she was sitting amongst the stars. My breath catches in my throat as I picture her there, propped on the ledge to nowhere with wet hair and a champagne flute in her hand.
It’s like we’re flying, Leo. Can you feel it?
I pull the tarp back and wind it in. The water sparkles like gold in the sun.
It’s been a long time since I’ve seen it in its glory. Aside from the maintenance I’ve been working on over long nights recently, the cover hasn’t been off once since she died.
Not for me, and not for Cam, either.
I look back up at the house and find him there, staring at me over the railings. I wave and he waves back.
He points at the water and I give him a thumbs-up.
I’d forgotten how much he loved this pool. I’d forgotten all the afternoons we spent splashing about in here when the weather held. Even when it didn’t.
It’s been easier to forget than to feel.
I check the filter is working just fine, and run a final water check. My maintenance has paid off. The pool is perfectly usable.
Cam is jumping around the living room as I dig the old inflatables out of the pool cupboard. He’s reaching up for his inflatable turtle and his armbands before I can even finish blowing them up.
“Alright, champ.” I laugh. “Give your dad a minute, will you?” I tip my head towards the kitchen. “Go ask Serena to grab your shorts.”
I hear Serena trying to decipher his message as I head upstairs to sort my own pool wear.
I dig out a pair of shorts and a towel from the airer. Change quickly before the weather decides to change on me.
Cam is frustrated when I get back down, Serena shaking her head as he tries to communicate.
“He needs shorts,” I tell her. “For swimming.” And then the tiniest intuition hits home. Hard. I keep my voice easy. Calm. Steady enough that even I barely notice the tension. “You could have just asked her, champ. We’d have been down there already by now.”