Page 77 of Kiss Me Like You Mean It

‘Do you—’ I start, but our quiet conversation is interrupted by a heart-stopping scream.

‘Shit!’ I exclaim, already running for Phoebe’s room.

I open the door, turning on the light as Phoebe struggles up, her eyes wide, her face wet. Taco whines at her side, trying to lick the tears from her cheeks.

‘It’s just a bad dream, Bee,’ I say quietly, moving to the side of her bed to hug her. She nestles against me, and I can feel her heart hammering, her small shoulders shaking. ‘Just a dream, it’s okay. You’re okay.’

‘It was too dark,’ she murmurs, her face pressed to my chest. ‘I couldn’t get out and there was a monster. He was coming to get me.’

I hold her tighter, Taco curls up against her side. ‘Nothing’s coming to get you. I’m here and everything’s okay.’ I feel her relax into my arms. ‘Do you want to play the game?’

She sniffles. ‘What letter shall we do?’

‘How about D?’ I ask. It’s a technique I read about, for kids who have nightmares – getting her back in the room by naming five things beginning with a certain letter.

‘Um, dog,’ she says, ‘Dad, drawers, door.’ She looks around, more of the tension leaving her. ‘Daisy,’ she finishes.

I look up and see that Lee is standing in the doorway watching us anxiously. Catching my gaze, her eyes widen and she mouths an apology before slipping away.

I turn my attention back to Phoebe. ‘Good job. Now, why don’t you lie down and we’ll read for a bit?’

‘You won’t leave?’ she asks, snuggling back against her pillow. ‘Not until I’m asleep?’

‘I won’t leave. I promise.’

It doesn’t take long. It surprised me, at first, how quickly she’d fall back to sleep after a nightmare, but I stay for an extra couple of minutes to make sure she’s fully out before I pull the door shut behind me.

Lee is sitting at the clean dining table, staring at a glass of water. When she sees me she jumps up.

‘Is Phoebe okay?’ she asks, gripping the back of her chair.

I nod. ‘Nightmare. It’s been a while since she had one. I was sort of hoping we’d left them behind.’

‘She has them a lot?’

I nod again, my jaw tight. ‘Used to. They started after Tom died. Apparently it’s common for kids dealing with grief, but they’re hard on her.’

‘Hard on you, too.’ Lee tilts her head, her expression sympathetic.

I exhale a shaky laugh. ‘I don’t know how to protect her from her own brain. If you know how to beat up monsters in people’s dreams then I’m all ears. Mostly I feel useless.’

‘I used to have nightmares,’ Lee says carefully, not meeting my eye. ‘When I was a kid. I wish my dad had come running.’

I’m struck by the same hot flare of anger that I experience whenever Lee talks about her parents. I hate thinking of her being so alone.

‘It doesn’t feel like enough,’ I say, and I’m not just talking about Phoebe. I wish I could do more for Lee. I wish I could go back in time and stop anything or anyone from hurting her.

Lee, however, is frowning. ‘You keep saying that, that it’s not enough, that you don’t do enough, but I’ve been here, living with both of you and I don’t know how you could do more.’ She reaches out and squeezes my arm. ‘It’s obvious to everyone that you’re a good dad, you’re being too hard on yourself.’

I shake my head. ‘That’s the thing… it’s not enough to be a good dad. Phoebe didn’t even know her mother and then eighteen months ago she lost Tom, the only father figure she’d ever had. It’s too much. If I’d known that she existed I’d have been here but I wasn’t, and I can never make that right for her. She’s a child, and all she knows is that I wasn’t there.’ There’s a pain in my chest like a knife, and I can see an echo of it in Lee’s eyes.

‘I swore to myself I’d never, never abandon my kid like my dad with me. I missed so much stuff, Lee,’ I say, the words soft like a secret, the kind I can’t say out loud to anyone else because I know Magda carries so much guilt over this too, because I know that she was doing the best she could but that it hurts anyway. ‘Her first smile, her first steps, her first word. I think about those moments and how there’s no getting them back, and it kills me.’

‘Of course it does. That’s grief.’ Lee comes to slip her arms around my waist. She presses her body to mine, rests her cheek against my chest, holding me tight. For someone who isn’t much of a hugger, she’s excellent at it. I band my own arm around her back, pulling her close like I want to, deciding not to question the comfort I get from her touch.

‘I’m so sorry,’ she murmurs. ‘You deserved to have all those things. It’s okay to be sad about it.’

We stand locked in each other’s arms as the clock on the kitchen wall ticks gently, as the seconds stretch out. I know I should let go, but I don’t want to.