Free The Pause by John Larkin

knew that Mum would eventually want to open that particular can of worms when I’d prefer to let sleeping dogs (or worms) lie. She still carries the guilt with what happened with Aunt Mary, but she has to let it go. I have. Or I thought I had.
    â€˜I need to know, Dec.’
    â€˜She’s dead, Mum. She can’t get any deader. Just let it go!’
    â€˜If I could have taken your place …’
    â€˜Enough, Mum. Jeez. You’re supposed to be cheering me up, not workshopping crap about that psycho.’
    â€˜Don’t call her that, Declan. She was sick. That’s why she did what she did.’
    â€˜Okay. I’ll call her ‘the fucking nut job’, then. That better?’
    â€˜I’m sorry, Dec. I’m so sorry. I should have known. She always had a vile temper. You told us that she used to hit you.’
    â€˜Mum! I don’t want to talk about it.’
    â€˜But you have to. The doctor said you’ve bottled it up.’
    â€˜How does he know?’
    â€˜You blame me, don’t you?’
    â€˜No, I don’t. You couldn’t have known that she –’
    â€˜You do. And you’re right. I’m the one who left you alone with her that day. I could have taken the day off –’
    â€˜Stop it, Mum!’
    Never have I been more pleased to see Dad and Kate. Mum was seriously about to go off on one. And I don’t need that. Whatever skeletons remain in that particular closet have long since turned to dust and are best left undisturbed.
    â€˜Hey, Declan, what’s happening?’ says Dad, trying to act casual.
    â€˜We’re going paragliding this afternoon.’
    â€˜Oh, really?’ says Kate. ‘Can I come?’
    â€˜He’s not serious, Kate,’ says Dad. He looks over at me to check. ‘You’re not serious, are you, Dec?’
    I give him a look.
    Dad gets to work on his tray of coffees. ‘So that’s a skim cap decaf for the love of my life.’ He hands Mum her coffee and plants a kiss on her cheek. I can’t imagine what they got up to last night after they made up. Actually, I really don’t want to.
    â€˜A hazelnut latte for the big fella.’ Dad’s voice bellows around the courtyard like the grunt of a mating bull.
    â€˜Keep it down a bit, Dad.’
    â€˜Why?’ he says. ‘Is a hazelnut latte too girly for the hospital?’
    â€˜No, but you are.’ It’s the worst comeback in the history of comebacks but, hey, I’m drugged up to the back teeth. ‘Seriously, the loonies need their sleep.’
    â€˜Declan,’ chides Mum. ‘Don’t call them that.’
    â€˜â€œUs”, Mum,’ I say. ‘“Us”. I’m one of them, remember?’
    â€˜Double espresso for moi,’ continues Dad, ‘because if I was any more manly I’d grow hair on my teeth.’ And everyone within earshot rolls their eyes.
    â€˜And a soy-milk hot chocolate for Katie Bear.’
    â€˜Because allowing Kate access to caffeine would be like giving the Duracell rabbit rocket fuel.’
    â€˜Shut up, douchebag.’
    â€˜Do you even know what a douchebag is?’
    â€˜Yeah, it’s you.’
    â€˜Stop it, you two,’ pleads Mum. ‘For God’s sake, give it a rest.’
    Dad looks around the courtyard and nods. ‘This is okay, isn’t it, Dec?’
    I shrug. ‘Best nuthouse I’ve ever been in.’
    â€˜I mean, it’s nicer than the hospital your Aunt Mary was in, God rest her soul.’ He appears thoughtful for a moment. Mum looks at me and I shake my head.
    â€˜Mum tell you we’re going fishing?’
    â€˜Yep,’ I say. ‘I can hardly wait.’
    â€˜Dec,’ whispers Mum. ‘Come on.’ Dad is still surveying the courtyard so he didn’t detect the sarcasm.
    I take a sip of coffee. ‘Can I bring a book?’
    Mum sighs but smiles. She squeezes my knee, happy