“You know what he’s like, he just…has a bit of a temper.”
“Mum, you don’t need to make excuses for him. He’s always been a piece of shit.”
He reaches up to dab her eyes with the corner of her robe.
Her hands clutch the sleeve of his shirt as though she’s afraid he might disappear again. “Mark,” she smiles softly. “My sweet Mark.”
He hesitates, unsure whether to give any clues that might allow his dad to find him.
“I didn’t tell you in the letters, but my name is Marco now.”
She repeats the name carefully, almost reverently.
“My Marco.”
the thirtieth chapter
MARCO
The realisation dawns on Ma’s face.
“September third,” she beams. “You came to see me on your birthday.”
“I tried to come a few birthdays ago,” I admit. “But I wussed out.”
“Nothing wussy about keeping yourself safe,” she says. “Wish I had half the guts you do, son.”
I’m not sure how much time we have.
Could be minutes, could be hours.
As if reading my mind, she turns.
“He'll be down at the pub until closing time. Feeling sorry for himself, no doubt.”
“Ma, this is Amos, by the way.”
I give him a look that says all the things I wish I could say.
Thank god you're here.
I'm so sorry you had to see that.
Are you okay?
Can we stay a little longer?
I love you so damn much.
She holds his hand in hers.
“Amos, I'm Louise. Mark's mum.” Then a pause as she remembers. “Marco. Marco's mum.”
“Lovely to meet you, Louise.”
His smile is kind and warm.
“Sorry about earlier,” she apologises. “Not the hello you expected, I guess.”
