I sat quietly at the head of the dining table, watching Finn as he fiddled with his Scrabble tiles, arranging words and calculating. I couldn’t sit still. It was hard to believe, seeing my mini-me seated right in front of me, displaying his startling intelligence.
I didn’t know exactly how long I’d stayed watching him like this. I didn’t care. I might as well watch him forever, admiring the way his brows knitted together in concentration. “We’ve been in here for way too long, Finn,” I said softly as I ruffled his blond curls. “Don’t you wanna go out and ride your bike?”
He turned his big, blue adorable eyes to me. “But it’s spoilt.”
Shit.
I frowned in disappointment. “Oh.”
“But Mommy said she’s gonna get me a new one soon. She told me not to ride that old one because I might get injured.”
“Alright then,” I glanced around. “Got any toy trucks around?”
He shook his head. “No. But I’ve got books. I’ve got Diary of a Wimpy Kid. Wanna read to me?”
Oh, fudge. This was way worse than I’d imagined, and it was all Elaine’s fault.
I rose, tugging his small hand up as well. “Come on, now. Let’s go up to your room. I want to see all your stuff and maybe, we’d play bouncing castles on your bed.”
He stared at me as though I’d lost my mind. “What are bouncing castles?”
I tried my hardest not to facepalm. “I’ll show you. Let’s go.”
We waddled up the spiral staircase, hand in hand and laughing at nothing in particular. I was giddy with the thrill of having my hand around a much smaller one. When we got to the end of the corridor, he pushed open the door and we stepped into the PJ Masks-themed bedroom. There was a bunch of books on the little desk in a corner, and pencils scattered all over the plush green rug. He hopped on the bed and sighed in contentment, beaming at me.
“This is your room?” I asked incredulously. It was so… mundane and boring. No pretty wristwatches, toy trucks, or planes. Just books and writing kits.
“Yeah,” he nodded proudly. “You like it?”
I shrugged, plopping down on the edge of the bed, stalling for time. Honestly, it was a boring room. But I couldn’t say that to a kid. “It’s nice. Might need some work, but it’s cool.”
He gestured to the desk. “Diary of a Wimpy Kid: The Long Haul is over there. Can you read it to me, please?”
“Oh, but how about we do something more fun? Where’s your ball?” I asked, looking around.
He scrunched his face up. “Ball? What’s that?”
Oh, God. “You mean you don’t have a ball? Or bat? Do you have a tennis ball at least?”
He shook his head. “Santa Clause never brought me those.”
Fuck.
I stood up now. “Why don’t we go out to a park for a walk or something?”
His face brightened as he jumped off the bed, throwing his arms up in the air in glee. “Yippe! Yay!”
I chuckled, pulling the wooden closet door open. “Your shoes are in here, right?”
“Yeah,” he crouched, rummaging through the lowest section. My face fell as I took in the scanty clothesline and old, worn-out shoes. He singled the manageable pair out. I looked away in pity. He hardly had any possession at all. Elaine surely wasn’t kidding when she said that things were rough.
“Are these all of your clothes and shoes, Finn? Where are the rest?”
“These are all of it, Uncle,” he giggled, clacking the shoes in his hands together. “These are my favorite shoes for going out. I wear them only to the park,” he pointed at a pair of red Timberland boots. “Those are for church. And the black ones are for school.”
I forced a smile. “That’s great. Understandable,” I rubbed my temples, my stomach dropping even more. I couldn’t even begin to imagine what he’d gone through, denied so many things befitting of kids his age. “Do you need help putting it on?”
“Yes, please,” he passed it over to me, plopping back down on the bed. “My socks are in the bottom drawer.”
I picked one of the two worn-out pairs and crouched to help him put them on. Guilt swirled in my veins. My son had been living more or less like a pauper for five years, and I knew nothing. I could do nothing. For this long. I felt like the world’s most fucked up arsehole.
Shaking my head, I straightened and helped him to his feet. We padded downstairs silently, and my eyes zeroed in on the stack of bills on the center Lucite table in the living room. “Finn, son. Could you get me a glass of water in the kitchen, please? Make sure it’s cold.”
He frowned, lost in thought for a minute before shrugging at last and skipping to the kitchen. “Sure. I’ll be back soon.”
When I was sure he was well out of sight, I sat down and began flicking through old journals, and recent mail. I needed a rental receipt or a light bill. Anything that could alleviate their living condition. I had to help them somehow.
When I couldn’t find anything, I got on my knees to search the stack of envelopes shelved in the lower two compartments. Still nothing. She had a knack for hiding things very well, and right now, it wasn’t helping me in any way. Scanning the furniture and television set, I spotted some papers inserted at the bottom of the DVD player. Taking it out, I perused through and grinned. Bingo, there it was. What I was searching for. The bills were all put into paid and non-paid sections. So far, all she’d managed to take care of was the water and lighting bill for only two months, which was hard enough. I made a mental note to take care of the rest later as I singled out the rental receipt and pushed it into my pocket.
“Daddy?”
I froze, my nerves short-circuiting at the sound of the word. It was beautiful… and scary, both at the same time. I’d never felt more proud.
Whirling around, I shot him a sly smile. “Hey. I see you got my water.”
“What are you doing with Mommy’s papers?”
Shit.