“Happy Birthday to you. Happy Birthday to you, Mummyyyy...” the twins flanked on each side of me drag the words out in a sing-song voice. El rolls her eyes but her smile never falters. I tilt the screen of my laptop to have a better view of her face. Her smile is not directed at me but the sight of it warms me. Our eyes meet briefly, she looks away. “Happy birthday to you.” They look at each other. “Hip. Hip. Hip.”
“Hurray,” El finishes for them. She yanks her robe close and I smother a groan. I loved the view. “Thank you, my loves.”
Wyn pries the laptop from my laps to hoist it on her legs, Bren relocates to her side of the couch. They cradle the laptop like a toddler, careful to keep it on their knees. “How old are you, Mummy?” Wyn asks.
“I’m plus one.”
“What’s plus one?” Bren asks.
The laptop returns to my legs, the twins prop their chins on my thighs as they peer at their mother. The corners of her eyes crinkle as she delays with a reply. The girls grunt.
“My age,” she answers with a grin.
Dissatisfied with her answer, they scowl. Wyn is the first one to leave the parlour, Bren follows after eliciting a promise from their mother to be back home by the end of the week. I see through her lie but it reassures them so we stick with it. When they are out of sight, I level her a wary look and she shrugs.
“What’s keeping you there?” Throwing a hand over the back of the couch, I cross my legs.
The crazy part of me half-expects to hear something like T but her smile falls. She rubs the back of her hand against her eyes, bringing the eye bags and dark circles to my notice. I sit up straighter. “Pa.”
Silence stretches between us, I wait for more but she doesn’t volunteer any answers. I am taking half of the day off in preparation for my meeting with Jei so I don’t rush El for more information. Dude gave me one last chance after I missed his calls, texts and emails. I could care less at this point but I will humour him.
“What about him?” She sighs and her entire body deflates. A shrug and another sigh later, I am forced to ask, “Is he okay?” That seems to be my most prevalent question these days. Mother is doing okay, as fine as a sick person should be. Father is fine. I hope he is for the sake of my sanity. Brianna is improving daily. “Baby.” Her eyes flicker to my face but I don’t apologise for my slip. She will always be my baby. “How’s Pa?”
Our relationship might have dwindled in the space of five years but Pa will always have a spot in my heart. “Not so good.” She brings her hand to her mouth to smother her cries but the tears trickle down her cheeks. “He’s so sick and the doctors keep saying stuff I don’t even understand. He’s only seventy.”
Anger seeps into her words the longer she speaks. The distance is already a barrier between us, I lend her support by listening to her till she takes a deep breath and casts me a sad look. My heart beats in my throat, there’s too much sadness swimming in her eyes. It seems to be everywhere, trying to attack me.
“I don’t want him to die,” she whispers.
A lot of people live past seventy. Do they? Mother is barely up to that age and she is sick. Father is going strong. Pa would survive this. I push the laptop to the couch and throw my head back to release a sigh.
“He won’t die,” I tell her. Mother won’t die too. She will be fine. She will be here when I win El back.
El pouts. Her lower lips stop trembling and her eyes shine with tears “How do you know?”
I don’t. But I’m clinging to the hope God won’t take one of the best parents in the world away from earth now. Not if that parent is the father to my beautiful wife. I flash her a fake smile. “I just know.”
Unspoken words linger in the air but we choose to share this peaceful moment. Her hair falls over her face as she moves behind the laptop to pick something. I smile at the bouquet she pushes to the screen.
She sniffs and holds them to her chest. “I got your flowers.” She pouts. “And the chocolates.”
Annika was helpful in getting them across to El. She was too excited to play the wingwoman. The only thing I did was pay, she did the rest. I misunderstood her that night, she wants me and El back together. I want us back too. I am willing to accept her friendship with T. Or, at least pretend it doesn’t bother me.
“Happy birthday, Wifey.” El smiles at me for the first time since the call. My hand lowers to the small pile of paper on the stool by my couch. “I have something for you.” Her eyes round with anticipation, my fingers itch to display the content of the papers to her. Her grin is contagious and tempting but I manage to resist. “You will get it when you come back home.” We both ignore my use of the word home but I note her soft intake of air. I can’t be the only one missing us and the things we were. “We need to talk.”
Her head dips. I am not sure she left her hair down for my sake but I pretend she did. “I guess so.”
“About us,” I clarify. She nods again and a colony of ants breaks free in my belly. “I miss you, El.”
I don’t get a reply but a wide grin that jumpstarts my heart. El looks behind me, I tilt my head back but my vision is obscured by the tiny palms that cover my eyes. Their giggles give them away, I chuckle and they release me. Pecking me on the cheeks simultaneously, they whisper, “We miss you too, Mummy.”
The troublemaking duo giggle away without a word to El or me. El smiles at me with a hint of fondness. My heart clenches and I try to frown. Lord knows how much of our conversation they heard.
“I miss you too, Brandon.” Laughter bursts free from me, she purses her lips but I am sure she’s as happy as I am. “How’s Brianna?”
“Very okay.” Crossing my legs under me, I lean back to support my weight on the armrest and leave the laptop undisturbed on the couch. “Pa will be okay,” I tell her. She replies with a smile. “Mother is sick,” I add because I don’t want any secrets between us. Her expression doesn’t change. “You knew.” El nods. I expect to feel something. Raw, intense anger like I did when I found out she and Sophia conspired to keep Brianna a secret. Nothing but a flicker of pain that’s gone as soon as it comes. “Since when?”
A second or two later, she says, “At the twins birthday.” She squeezes her shoulders together. “Are you mad at me for not saying anything?” I shake my head. It wasn’t her secret to tell and I’m working extra hard at letting go of the baggage. “She said she was going to tell you.” The corners of my lips twitch. It didn’t go that way but I don’t correct her. “I figured she did when you two hugged. Are you happy?”
I look at the screen. “Huh?”
“To have them back in your life? Are you happy?”
As unexpected as it was, I love it. I am yet to completely unpack the resentment and anger but each day, I dislike them less than I did before. I see the similarities. Mother loves her coffee black. No cream, no sugar. I might have picked that bad habit from her. Father might be good with the business but he can’t knot his ties to save his life. They are much better dancers than I am. And excellent clowns for the girls.
It’s sad and funny the extremes they are willing to go for their grandbabies. Some part of me thinks it’s their way of atoning, the other part of me doesn’t care anymore as long as they stay and love me—us.
“Very. It’s strange. She texts everyday.” We both laugh. “Father calls more often.” I pick at the hem of my shorts, then lean forward to prop myself on my elbows so she sees every inch of my face. “I like it.”
Her smile is genuine. “I like it for you.”
The seconds roll into comfortable minutes, I push myself back and place the laptop on my legs. “If you are not coming back this week...” El stiffens. I add, “What about your launch? The birthday collection.”
If my memory serves me right, it is set to launch this weekend. Saturday. 2 pm. There has been no buzz about it. Nothing on social media. Nothing from her. Knowing the efforts she put into it, I want to panic. At the same time, I try to convince myself everything is in control and my interference will drive us apart.
“About that...” I watch the roll of her throat as she swallows hard. Alarm bells trip off in my head and I am glad she’s miles across from me so she can’t see how my fingers tremble. “It has been postponed.”