“Here we are,” said Danny, pausing beside a black headstone with gold lettering. He crouched and placed his hand on the stone while Will hovered nearby.
The grave was a simple arrangement, the small plot a far cry from the elaborate statues and monuments that stood in mournful silence around them. A rectangular border enclosed a layer of shiny green glass chippings that caught the light when the sun was out and sparkled like the surface of a lake. Today, however, they looked as drab as the last bunch of flowers that Danny had brought, their brown stems wilting from the pepper-pot lid of the metal vase.
“Always liked tulips, didn’t she?” he said, dragging the old flowers from the pot and replacing them with new ones. He carefully arranged them and wiped a fleck of imaginary dirt from the headstone. “Think she’ll like the color?” he asked, turning to look at Will. “They didn’t have any yellow ones left.”
Will stared at the grave, his jawbone tight.
“Want to say something to your mum?” said Danny. “For her birthday?”
Will shook his head, his eyes fixed on his mum’s name etched into the stone.
“Go on,” said Danny, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Have a go.”
Will shrugged out from beneath his hand and marched off down the path.
“Will!” shouted Danny before sheepishly apologizing to an old lady who scowled at him from a nearby graveside. He watched Will take a seat on a bench at the far end of the cemetery.
“He’s getting more like you every day, Liz,” he said. “Seriously, I don’t know what to do with him. I’ve tried everything, but he just won’t talk. He barely even looks at me half the time. I don’t know if he loves me or hates me or what. I keep hoping he’ll grow out of it, like this is just a phase or something, but the longer it goes on, the more it feels like this is forever, whatever this even is.” He sighed and shook his head. “Sometimes it feels like I lost both of you that day.”
The leaves hissed in the branches above him as the trees gently creaked in the wind.
“Sorry, Liz,” said Danny. He blinked a few times and exhaled like he’d just emerged from ice-cold water. “Right life of the party I am. We’re fine. Everything’s fine. Well, not fine, but, you know, we’re getting there. Will’s doing well in school, work is still work, our landlord is still a wanker, and Mrs. Amadi from flat thirty-six still thinks your name is Susan. She also thinks that Will isn’t talking because evil spirits stole his voice, so she kindly gave me the telephone number of a nice man called Alan who performs very reasonably priced exorcisms, apparently. So, yeah, there’s that.”
He laughed, or tried to, but the sound that emerged was as empty as it felt.
“Listen to me,” he said, glancing at the overcast sky. “I’m standing here, talking to a stone, and I know you can’t hear me because you’re not here. You can’t be here because the sun isn’t shining, which means I am literally talking to a rock right now while you’re out celebrating your birthday without me. So I’ll leave you to it, beautiful. Wherever you are, and whatever you’re doing, I hope you’re smiling, and I hope you’re dancing. Just try not to wake me up when you get home, okay?”
Danny touched his lips and placed his fingers on the headstone.
“Love you, Liz. Happy birthday.”
CHAPTER 5
They bought some chips and ate them in the park. Neither of them was hungry and Danny stabbed at his food with disinterest, while Will flicked it from his tray for the pigeons to eat. Several street performers were entertaining people nearby, singing, dancing, and doing whatever else it took to charm bystanders into opening their wallets. One scruffy man with long, matted hair and a tatty panama hat was strumming a guitar. It wasn’t his music that drew the crowds but the portly beige cat in the knitted red sweater that was sitting on the man’s shoulder and meowing at random intervals. Another man in a purple robe and a matching pointy hat was busy performing magic tricks, his face set into a serious frown as he wiggled his fingers at things and uttered seemingly ancient incantations. A smaller crowd had gathered around somebody dressed as a giant squirrel who was juggling football-size hazelnuts, and another person in a chicken costume was trying and failing to get people’s attention by trying and failing to break-dance.
As Danny watched the various acts he couldn’t help but notice how much money the performers were making. Their upturned hats, felt-lined instrument cases, Tupperware containers, and scuffed tobacco tins were literally overflowing with coins. Even the dancing chicken had somehow persuaded people to cough up their hard-earned cash, and all he was doing was writhing around as if hornets had set up home in his underpants.
Danny skewered a chip with his fork and gently nudged Will with his elbow.
“I think I’m in the wrong job,” he said.
* * *
The sun was setting by the time they got home.
“You got any homework?” said Danny as Will emerged from the bathroom, his wet hair flat against his head and a smear of toothpaste along one cheek.
Will shook his head.
“Want to watch some TV or something?” asked Danny, already knowing the answer.
Will faked a yawn and pointed to his room.
“All right, well, lights out by nine, okay?”
He nodded and opened his door.
“Will,” said Danny. His son paused but didn’t turn around. “I know it’s hard, but it’ll get easier. I promise. It just, you know. It takes time.”
Will looked at Danny, who gave what he hoped was an encouraging smile. Neither of them seemed convinced. He nodded once and closed the door behind him.
Danny turned on the television to commence his nightly ritual of sitting alone in front of the box until the early hours of the morning. His eyes felt heavy and his body felt tired, but he knew that any attempt to sleep would result in a long night of staring at the ceiling or watching the clock as the minutes turned into hours and the hours turned into daylight. Even on the rare occasion that he managed to get a proper night’s rest, Danny often felt worse than if he hadn’t slept at all, because waking up to confront the day meant also having to confront the fact that Liz wasn’t beside him.
He thought about their last morning together when he’d woken up to find that Liz, as per usual, had commandeered the duvet at some point during the night. She always denied doing it, but every morning, without fail, he’d wake to find her fast asleep in the scene of her very own crime, bundled up in the covers while he lay there shivering in his underpants. That morning, however, after shuffling up to the ball of duvet and snuggling close to his wife—a gesture partly born from affection but mainly from a desire to keep warm—Danny was startled when the covers deflated beneath the weight of his arm. It wasn’t until he heard Liz humming along to the kitchen radio that he realized she wasn’t in bed beside him. He’d laughed back then, but it felt like a hideous joke whenever he thought about it now, as if some cruel higher power were preparing him for a life without Liz by dropping a clue so spitefully subtle that he had no way of solving it before his wife climbed behind the wheel and gave him what neither of them knew was a final kiss good-bye.