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would you? Please, please, please.” Then he claps his hands in front of him, eyes closed
and head bowed.
“You know that doesn’t work on me, buddy.”
“Gramps said prayer is the answer to every life’s problem.”
I snort, I can’t help it.
Holden shakes his head, but there’s humour twitching at his lips. “I think Grandpa Mack and I need to have a chat.”
“He told me you’d say that.”
“Of course, he did.”
“Right,” I say, lifting Atlas off the counter and setting him down on the floor. “You go with Daddy outside to get the grill going and I’m going to lay down until the cookies are ready.
Your sister is getting heavy and Mama’s feet are hurting.”
“How long ‘til Feena comes?”
His botched attempt at pronouncing her name makes me giggle. “It’s Athena, little guy. And she’ll be here in two weeks. Are you excited?”
He thinks on the question a moment, his finger coming up to his chin once more. Then his little face takes on an expression of solemness that breaks my heart. “I don’t know,” he says finally. “Elias at school said that you and Daddy will love Feena more than me.”
A pained whimper squeaks in my throat at the thought of him doubting our love for even the briefest moment. I crouch down to his height despite knowing how difficult it will be to stand back up again and take his cheeks in my hands. “Elias didn’t say a very nice thing, did he?”
Atlas shakes his head, eyes cast downwards.
“He was wrong, baby,” I carry on, tilting his chin up to make him look at me. “Because Daddy and I love you more than anyone has ever loved anyone ever. And when your little sister
comes, we will love her just as much.”
“It’s true, buddy,” Holden says, crouching down to join us. “Do you remember the chat we had that sometimes Mommy and Daddy might not be able to play with you because the baby is crying or needs looking after?” Atlas nods.
“That doesn’t mean that we love her any more than we love you. She just won’t be able to do all the awesome stuff that you can right away and she’ll need our help. She’ll need her big
brother’s help too, won’t she?”
Finally, Atlas smiles and I breathe a sigh of relief. “Yeah and I’ll be the bestest big brother in the whole entire world.”
“That’s right, little guy.”
“Come on then,” Holden says, helping me up. “Let’s go start dinner and let Mommy have a rest.”
I watch as the two most important people in my life walk out onto the terrace hand in hand, before letting my tired legs lead me to the sofa in the living room.
For a while, I just lay there staring ahead of me at the painting hanging on the opposite wall.
“Our Secrets and Scars”, that’s what Holden had called it. It’s well over a decade old now,
but I remember the day we created it in blinding clarity.
People have asked about it, visitors who stop by or family when they fly over to stay with us from the States. They admire the abstract shapes and the artist’s use of colour.
We’ve never told a soul that what they’re really looking at is the result of Holden and I going at it in the art studio back in college. They have no idea that those shapes they find so beautiful are just imprints of various body parts. And certainly, I’ve never confessed to anyone other than my husband that every time I look at it, I get a little bit hot. A little bit wet.
Holden says my scarred face is his favourite piece of art, but this painting is mine. It’s bright and chaotic and colourful. It’s a total explosion of passion and love. And in every swipe and fingerprint and wayward drop of paint, I see us.
