Page 55 of Strum Me

The bell rings and I run to it, sliding my feet into the slippers by the door.

“Hello?” I’m greeted by a delivery guy carrying a bike.

“Are you Ben?” the pimply teenager asks, not caring that he has a mouthful of gum.

“Um…do I look like it? What’s this?” I point to his delivery.

“It’s a delivery for, um, Ben…” he says, checking the delivery sheet.

“It’s a bike.”

“You’re about as observant as me,” the little shit fires back.

“Ben’s my five-year-old son. I’ll sign for him.”

“Fine.”

I hand him the signed board and push the bike into the hallway just as Ben wanders in.

“Who was it, Mommy? OHMYGOSH! Is that for me?” His face lights up and he runs his good hand along the handlebars.

“I guess so. Let Mommy read the card. ‘For my brave boy, love Dad.’” My blood runs cold. Who’d gotten in touch with him?

“It’s from Daddy?” Ben asks, crouching down to look at the tires.

“Er, I guess so. I guess he heard about your accident.”

“A new bike! I can’t wait to ride it!”

“Whoa, it’ll be a while yet. You can play with it in the apartment, but no riding until your cast comes off and the doctor says it’s okay,” I warn him.

There’s a ding on my cell phone and I brace myself before reading it.

I just got a text to say the bike’s been delivered.

Yeah, thanks. You shouldn’t have done that. It’s too much, I reply to Ben’s father.

It’s fine, I knew you probably couldn’t afford another one. He’s right. And I hate that that’s the case as well as that he knows it.

Who told you about Ben’s accident? I ask.

Your mom, but it should’ve been you. Can I talk to him?

Yeah, call on the home phone in five minutes, I tell him.

And you? Can I talk to you?

No.

I turn off the ringer on my phone and put it down, returning to Ben’s room to pack, watching him play with his new bike’s handlebars.

The dread runs through me as it always does when Ben’s father gets in touch. Irrational, maybe, but I feel it nonetheless. Maybe a trip away really is the best thing for us both right now. Get out of London, and out of reach.

The phone in the hallway rings, and I flinch.

“Ben, why don’t you get that. I have a feeling it might just be for you.”

I watch my little boy jump off the bed and run to the phone, his happy jabbering making me smile even through the fear.