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“How old is your daughter?” I asked.
“Five.”
“Charlie’s six.” I put some tins of carrots onto the shelf. “It’s such an interesting age. I love seeing all the new things he’s becoming interested in.”
“Yeah, I agree. They’re so hard to keep up with.”
“I like the challenge, though.”
“Hey, does Charlie get along with girls? Maybe we could organise a play date.”
Panic began to grip me. I didn’t like letting people get too close to me or my son. I constantly worried about being judged for our situation; I worried about Charlie’s safety constantly.
I picked up a box and moved farther down the aisle from Rea. “I don’t think so.”
“I promise Lucy isn’ttoogirly, aside from the damn glitter.”
I wanted to put an end to the conversation fast. “I’ll put this tuna away.”
I could feel her gaze on me as I kept my back to her and got on with my job.
* * *
“Hey, kiddo!” I called out to my son when I saw him running towards me with his blue dinosaur backpack bouncing on his back.
“Hi, Mom! You’re here on time today.”
“I sure am, my little mate.” I bent down and hugged him, then planted a kiss on his cheek. As we began walking along the footpath, hand-in-hand, I asked, “How was your day?”
Charlie looked at the ground and shrugged. “It was okay.”
I wiggled his arm. “Only okay?”
He lifted his gaze to mine. “We made suns out of paper plates since it’s almost summer. I have mine in my backpack.”
I stroked Charlie’s dark brown hair.
“What about your day, Mom?” he asked as we rounded the corner onto a quiet street away from the school grounds.
“Your mum stocked shelves all day, so I’m going to need a long, hot shower to ease my muscles later tonight.”
“Okay.”
We reached our little apartment building and when I let us into our place, Charlie went straight to grab an apple.
“Hey, go and wash your hands first, please.”
He set the piece of fruit on the little, round dining table and raced to the bathroom to wash.
Our place was nothing special and it certainly wasn’t palatial, but it did what we needed it to do, which was provide a roof over our heads for cheap rent. It wasn’t much, but it was home, and it came fully furnished. It wasn’t in the best area, but it wasn’t like it was in the ghetto, either; plus, it was only a five-minute walk from Charlie’s school.
I cut up the apple for him while he washed and then set it out in a bowl beside his homework booklet. “I want you to do two pages of spelling and one of your maths homework,” I instructed as Charlie climbed into his seat.
“Three whole pages?” he exclaimed.
“Yes, please. Then you can watch some TV or play with your Legos. But only if you finish your homework.”
“Okay,” he moaned.
