Page 56 of When Lemons Give You Life

Angry tears well in my eyes but I refuse to let them fall. “I’m not sure it works like that. What are we supposed to tell her?”

“We’ll tell her he left for work.”

I open my mouth. Close it again. There’s a part of me that wants to shout. To ask Mum where she was when it was my turn to be a child. But her animal-like wails from the days and weeks after Dad died come crashing back, a reminder of the pain I’ve already caused her. The fight drains out of me; whatever she asks, I’d give. I nod.

“Promise me, Griff?”

“I promise.”

She brings a soft hand to my cheek. “You’re the strong one now. I hope that doesn’t harden you forever.” She stands, turning to the door. “Come on. I’m making pancakes. They’re not as good as yours, but it will do you good to eat.”

I stay on the step a while longer, until the roaring in my head begins to dull. The smell hits me before I’m halfway down the hall—burnt butter, too much vanilla. I hover in the doorway, watching her at the stove. Lisa sits at the table, humming to the radio, legs swinging, syrup on her chin as though nothing has happened. She chatters about something she saw on TV. Mum laughs too loud, as though she’s practicing. Like the monster hasn’t just been evicted from the building. Like he didn’t shout and slam and spit bile into every room.

Mum glances at me as she flips a pancake with a hand that still trembles. Her smile wobbles but she holds it, as though willing the kitchen to be normal again.

“Seeing as Brent’s out of town this weekend, love, why don’t you ask Michael over? You light up when he’s around.”

The words catch in my chest. Said right here, in front of Lisa, as if it’s the most ordinary suggestion in the world.

Lisa looks up from her plate. “Is Michael your boyfriend, Griff?”

Heat floods my face. “He’s just a mate.”

Mum sets the pan down with a sigh, her shoulders sinking. She looks at both of us, her voice threaded with sorrow.

“And if he is more than that, sweetheart, that’s perfectly fine. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to say that before.”

For a moment, warmth flickers through me, a fragile flame I didn’t know I’d been waiting for. And yet it comes too late, starved by everything we’ve lost, everything we’ve hidden.

That’s when I see my cassette player, abandoned next to Lisa’s cup, bedazzled with stickers and glitter!

“Lisa!” I yell. “What the hell have you done?”

She jumps, blinking at me.

“Griff, lower your voice!” says Mum.

“I wanted to decorate it to thank you,” she says with a toothy grin. “I tried to use your favorite colors.”

“You’re never listening to it again!” I snap, snatching it away.

Mum shoots me a warning look, but I ignore it, cradling the player like it’s something wounded.

“But I was just—”

“No buts. That’s it. You’ve ruined it. You ruin everything!” I can’t take this outside now. Not like this.

I clutch the glittering machine tighter, hating how much it suddenly resembles all the feelings, the joy and the light, that I’ve had to keep hidden.

Lisa’s lower lip wobbles.

“Griff, sit down, that’s enough, please.” Mum’s voice is tight.

I grunt and take a seat at the far end of the table, as far from Lisa’s green eyes as possible.

She rubs her face with the back of her hand, then resumes her very important task of trying to pick the jam label off the jar. “Is Daddy coming?”

Mum’s smile falters, but just for a second. “No, sweetheart. He’s at work. We’ll talk more about it later.”