My heart sinks. Em’s asked the same question every day since she was four.
‘What do you want?’
Here we go.
‘Don’t forget I’m out tonight Love.’
Claire’s social life is something to behold. There’s a spreadsheet somewhere in the Jurassic layer of reminders on the fridge, somewhere above the copy of our Save the Date cards, but below lists of what goes in which wheelie bin.
‘You said we could have pizza if I did my essay on Catch 22!’ Dan grins.
‘Have you?’
He hasn’t. Our son does his homework at the thirteenth hour, never earlier.
‘Miaow!’ The cat senses the worst moment. That, naturally, sets the dog off.
‘Woof!’
‘I’m sorry Astro, I know it’s walkies time.’ His tail thumps expectantly on my foot and his hot breath soaks my hand.
‘I’ve planned the essay.’ Dan’s face contorts.
‘That’s not finishing it though, is it?’
‘I don’t want meat. I’m meat-free on Mondays.’
‘It’s Wednesday Em!’
I know what day it is. I put the bins out.
Or did I?
‘Shit, it’s Wednesday? I’m in then. And I missed book club yesterday.’ Claire rubs her temple. It’s not like her to forget.
‘Can we have pizza anyway? If Mum’s home?’ Dan’s eyes are cartoon-wide, his expression trying to reach back to his baby days.
Can’t get me like that. I’m immune. Okay, not immune, but hardened.
‘Dan, you can’t have pizza if you haven’t finished your essay.’ I hate myself. I want pizza too. ‘And Em you’ll have to go with the majority vote.’
‘That’s not fair!’
‘That’s not fair!’
‘Life’s not fair!’
Astro and I discuss philosophies of the unfairness of life, as we leave for a very, very long walk.
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