Tick

She’s lucky. I stayed. Through the ambulance, the coroner, the silence that settled like fog. Twice.

I kept the freezer stocked. I filled in paperwork so all she had to do was sign it. I filled the gaps. I never asked for praise. That’s not what good men do. You show up. You keep showing up. Even when they forget to thank you. Maybe especially then. Maybe definitely. The daughter is thin-lipped. Sarcastic. Sharp. Mind and tongue. A little shrew, I think. The puppy fat that pads her hardly-there curves doesn't fool me. For a while I saw her eyes on me, and I thought she'd been the easiest to deal with. A look, a smile, and she'd be putty in my hands. Apparently not. The days of boldly coming to breakfast in thin pyjamas, and then, when challenged, sashaying back upstairs with a smirk... Those days are gone. Her eyes are cold now. Like a fish.

I give her space, mostly. The boy is easier. Gullible and pliant.

I keep things steady. Laundry folded. Thermostat set. The past stored in boxes, tucked away out of sight.

The girl storms to find pictures moved, packed away. The boy watches me, wide-eyed, lip trembling. Teetering. He takes his cue from me. If I'm confident it was the right thing, he'll follow suit. She won't. The more boldly I maintain it, the more firmly she will oppose me.

It's really her that needs to go next. As little as I want to raise another man's son, at least he does as he's told. Doesn't challenge me.

I roll the possibilities around like hard-boiled sweets, tasting each one. She could just... Disappear. Girls go missing all the time. Maybe the little wretch could be persuaded to go and live with her useless father. That might be easiest. Safest. For me as well as her.

I do think I'll keep the boy. Useful to have an older sibling around. To help out.

She thinks she's safe from such things. She thinks she's succeeded in making me take precautions.

When she tries to walk away, I catch at her wrist, tight. Almost tight enough to bruise, but not quite. Maybe tonight will be the night I get a son of my own. Better than a spineless puppy.

The smile pulls at my mouth, but it's not mirrored in hers. Doesn't matter.

I pull her closer. She hardly flinches at all.

After all, I'm the man who stayed.

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