Jennifer Two

TWENTY-FOUR.

"Why yours? Why not the spare room?"

"Uhh..." I stutter. "I didn't know you were coming, but now you're here, you and Hudson can just crash in my room tonight. I'll just sleep across the hallway."

"No. It's fine. Hudson can take the spare room. Right, Hud?" Sofia looks at him, and he looks at both of us, almost confused, trying to work something out in his head. But then he shrugs, turning back to whichever game he's playing on his iPhone. His iPhone, goddamnit – what does a twelve-year-old need an iPhone for?

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" I ask quietly as I help to transport the bags to their final destination.

"We're grown adults, Bret. Surely sleeping in the same bed shouldn't cause as much of a ruckus as it would if we were younger." Funnily enough, the first time we ever slept together back in high school, we weren't supposed to. We were just sharing a bed. That's what was supposed to happen. So it's understandable why my mind is in a bit of a frenzy right now. I know nine out of ten nothing will happen, but I swear Sofia five years ago wouldn't lie within a hundred-metre radius of me. I guess maybe time and distance dilute old angers and resentments. But never guilt.

We spend the rest of the day as a family, chatting and updating each other on life. Hudson is a wiz at math – or maths, as he likes to call it. I can't help but notice his confused dialect and pronunciation, jumping between British and American throughout our conversation, and though it makes me laugh it makes me just as sad. I've missed out on so much of my son's life, and not being one of the first people to hear him throw out new slang words and brag about his new Londoner friends leaves a bitter feeling in my heart. It's my punishment, and at the end of the day it's only fair. Throughout the day I watch him and I smile, paying attention to the eyes he stole from Sofia, and the goofy bright smile he stole from me. The same smile I used to win girls over, make fake friends and succeed in job interviews. I hope with a certain comfort that he'll never be like me, and he'll be everything like the person I was supposed to be and everything like the person Sofia is.

◆

Sofia and I sit on the couch, and I try hard not to stare at her too much as she sits with her chin on her knees, bent into herself as she looks down in thought. Sometimes she stares at the view of the city from the window, and that's how it's been since Hudson went to sleep. We haven't said much, just thrown around small talk and tried to keep the air around us from souring in any way. I wish to reach out and kiss her, or tell her how much I love her. I know I can't. I wish I could, but I can't.

"I know you started doing freelance photography, right?" Sofia pipes up after a while. Her voice is sweet and sleepy, and she rakes her fingers through her hair.

"Oh. Yeah. I'm trying to get back into that," I cringe, wishing I never had to mention my photography with such awkward hesitance. "I've had a dry spell."

"Hmm," she bites her nail. She always does – did, when she found herself talking about something she regretted, whether it was for her sake or my own. She can hear the change of tone in my voice. She knows the magnitude of things way more than I can try to hide it. "How have things really been holding on the last couple of years, though? I mean, really. How are things?" she asks with so much concern, I can see it in her eyes. She fucking cares for me and there's nothing that can be done about it. I can't love her or reassure her or make her proud anymore. But she still cares for me.

"It's been hard. I'm not gonna lie. Things have been a struggle. I've had one too many bumps in the road, it seems."

"Have you not met anyone new? Made more friends? Is there nobody here that can help you in any way?" There it is - the classic comforting technique; the patting-a-crying-friend-on-the-shoulder-with-a-broomstick-to-keep-distance technique. I just shrug my shoulders and scratch my neck. "You know that I'll always be here for you, right? Distance won't stop that. The past won't stop that, either. If you're in trouble I'm here."