“…I’m sorry.”

“For what, honey?”

“I pooped in my pants.”

“So…?”

“It’s very stinky, Daddy”

“Then that would be my fault and you shouldn’t be apologising.”

“Why’s it your fault?”

            “I cook the suppers around here, remember? though I honestly don’t remember it smelling this bad when we ate it last night.”

            Anna giggled, looked up at him from the bathroom countertop with her big dark eyes, and he felt all the breath leaving his body…something relentless and beyond the concept of Pain…tearing at him…

            “I know Mom’s not coming home,” she said quietly, like she understood the

concept of Catastrophe.

            He sucked some snot up his nose and wiped her little butt clean one last time.

            “You wanna look after the rest of this?” he asked her. “I’ll get the shower going until it’s warm for ya?”

            “No. I want you t’help.”

            She wasn’t much more than three years old and somehow it was like she was channelling her mother and just then it wasn’t a good thing. Her little hand reached for his. All too often it was almost more than he could bear…

                                    *                      *                      *         

Afterwards he got her into footie pyjamas and they sat on the living room sofa with Snowball rumbling between them as they watched a Disney movie.

            “It’s not a good name,” said Anna.

            He looked down at her where he cat was cradled up under one arm, her head turned to one side so she could watch the movie…The Lion King…

            “What’s not a good name, honey?”

            “Snowball. His real name is Mister Squeak. Pip Squeak.”

            He thought his heart was going to stop.

            “That was what your mom called you.”

            “I know. After she went away she sent this pussums for us.”

            He thought his heart was going to stop again.

            “Anna do you miss her? D’you miss her as much as I do?”

            Anna nodded up into his tears.

            “I hate how much it makes you hurt, Daddy….”

                                    *                                  *                                  *

In the morning he stood on the curb with her until the daycare bus came along.

            “I won’t go away,” Anna said.

            “You mom didn’t mean to.”

            She sighed. “I know…she had to…but I won’t go anywhere. I promise I’ll try not to…an’ I want grill cheese for lunch…with maters in the middle.”

            He nodded and tried to breathe.

            “Okay, honey. I’ll see ya at lunchtime then.”

            She climbed up onto the bus, smiled and waved at him from a window as it moved away slowly. It was all the sunshine he could hope for.     

 

Much of Michael Summerleigh’s mainstream fiction has been available in online journals over the last five years. Jackanapes Press in Oregon wil be reprinting most of his early horror fiction, and Dancing Wolf Press has issued his 5-volume “Tales of the City” fantasy series as well as a PI novel and a short volume of humour.