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Isaac’s eyes widen so much so they look like they are going to pop out of his head. His free hand reaches for a cushion, and he drags it onto his lap, hugging it tight with his arms. He used to hide under these cushions when he was smaller.
“Did it hurt?” His voice is small and tight.
I lean forward and run a hand up and down his back, trying to soothe him. “No, my love, she was asleep. The smoke just became too much, but I promise the flames didn’t hurt her.”
“The house… is it gone?”
This is a good question. I haven’t been able to make myself go back to check, but I’ve heard that it’s still there, soot ridden and damp. “It’s still there, but we can’t live there right now.”
“Oh.” I know my son better than I know myself and I know he wants to ask something else, something uncomfortable.
“Yes?” I prompt.
“Does that mean we are coming back here now?”
“What?” I’m not expecting this. “Is that what you want?”
There is a beat of silence. “I don’t know. Is that what you want? Is that why you came to pick me up?”
I shake my head furiously. “No. Freddy wanted to come and get you so I could tell you here and you didn’t come back and not understand why you weren’t going to your nan’s house.”
His eyes fill with tears at this, and I’m not sure I’ve said the right thing. “Mum, I don’t think I want to go back and see that house. Please don’t make me.”
I shift uncomfortably, not sure how to phrase the next thing I have to say. “Well, you know, Freddy’s said we can stay with him, at least until we get ourselves straight.”
If I’m expecting Isaac to be excited by the prospect of living in a converted garage with its full access to cars and tools, I’m sorely disappointed.
Isaac keeps his eyes down. “I want to stay here.”
Pardon.
“Isaac, you can’t stay here. I don’t live here anymore.Wedon’t live here anymore.”
“Mum, I don’t want to go back and see that, please.”
My heart is torn between giving him what he wants and keeping him with me. “Maybe I can speak to Elliot and ask if you can stay here for a couple of days extra while I get everything sorted, but then, Isaac, you need to come back; you’remyson, not Elliot’s.” This is a low blow, and I know I’m being cruel, but my capacity for dealing with pain is reaching its stretched limit. “Will you go and speak to Freddy while I talk to Elliot? I know he’s worried about you.”
Isaac throws his arms around my neck. “This isn’t about you and Freddy, I promise.”
Shifting back, I look at Isaac. My fingers automatically brush the fair hair out of his eyes. “I know.”
As I walk through the house to find Elliot, I know that Isaac and I have just told each other our first lie, and my heart hangs a fraction heavier in my chest as a result.
