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‘Het luchtbed!’ Ada says, and Luuk squints, trying to understand.
‘No blow-up mattress; he needs a quiet night to feel better…’
‘Alone?’ Otto sounds equally distraught with Ada, as if we are about to abandon Luuk in the Amsterdamse Bos in the middle of the night and let him fend for himself.
‘I can sleep on the couch, so that nobody’s sleeping arrangements will need to change.’ Three pairs of eyes land on him.
The blow-up mattress is their favorite piece of furniture: they sit on top of it, while it inflates, all delighted smiles, ignoring the loud motor. We use it once in a while, so that I don’t sleep on the couch whenever Mom stays over, and right now, it sounds like a pretty good idea.
So we set up camp in my bedroom, leaving hardly enough space for a person to slide through the door. I’m surprised they are already under the covers when Luuk comes to lie down, pretty exhausted himself, managing to slide his body onto the bed with the help of his crutches.
‘And now we close our eyes and let sleep come,’ I say by means of warning, ‘because we are all tired and you have to go to school tomorrow.’
‘Luuk?’
‘Yes, Otto?’ He stifles a yawn.
‘Will you sing us our song?’
‘Absolutely.’
Luuk winks at me, asks them to close their eyes, and starts singing. I’m certain my chest has gotten smaller. Or my heart has gotten bigger, because suddenly it’s crowded in there as I’m bursting with something very close to happiness.
When, half an hour later, I change into my oversized T-shirt and slide next to a half-asleep Luuk, his body invites me to nestle into the crook of his arm. I know he’s in pain, since painkillers only help that much, yet he lets out a sigh of relief. I turn towards him, careful to not accidentally put pressure on his leg, and he looks into my eyes and presses a kiss on my forehead.
‘What a day, huh?’ I say, kissing his chest.
‘My thoughts exactly.’
‘How are you feeling?’
His low voice is almost a whisper. ‘My whole body hurts… but I’m happy to be here, regardless.’
‘Are my kids still your favorite people?’
He chuckles. ‘Amongst my deadly favorite people, you mean? At the very top of my list.’
‘Despite feeling super-guilty for what happened, they are super-happy you’re staying longer.’
‘What about their mom?’
‘Same. Although she hates that you’re hurting.’
Another kiss, this one on my nose, before Luuk talks. ‘Despite the pain and the discomfort, I’ve never felt more like I’m in a cocoon, soft and welcoming and protecting me from the outside world.’
I nod against his chest, as we lie there in the half-darkness of the late spring evening. Luuk is like the missing piece of our lives, his presence cherished; his absence hated. Now that he’s here, it’s as if he has always been a permanence, despite the fact that he was never able to stay for long. It’s scarily easy, how it all came together because of a plastic cube. And I wonder what it would take for this to not end.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Luuk
Gordon
How is the owner of a certain viral brace?
Gordon
Still getting those Florence Nightingale offers?
