Free Unsuitable by Ainslie Paton

it.”
    “Ginnette,
towel.”
    “I
didn’t.”
    “Well,
someone else used your towel and left it on the bathroom floor. Go pick it up.”
    “Pippa.”
Mum considered. She held a twig from the garden in between the fingers of her
right hand. Her substitute cigarette. She’d given up when the twins were born,
before they knew about Gin’s asthma, but she still craved. “You’re perfect. Go
read a book. Reece.” He sat beside her. “You’re too soft on them. How’d it go?”
    “Flip
did good. Polly poured the charm like wet cement. Mia is such a cutie. She’s at
the fairy dress stage. But I’m not going to get it.”
    “Why
not?”
    “Other
candidates, better...” he trailed off. Yeah, that wasn’t the fucking reason. If
there were better candidates, he would never have made it to the play date
round. “It’s too hard to hire me. It’s easier to hire a chick. I make Audrey
nervous. I’m better off sticking to jobs with boys.”
    “You
know that’s discrimination.”
    “Yeah,
but what can I do about it? People don’t hire you to look after their kids if
you scare them shitless.”
    Charlie
leant her head on his shoulder. “Oh honey, I’m sorry. I worry about the girls
experiencing this kind of thing. It never occurred to me you would.”
    “No
biggie. I’ve got options.”
    “You
do. Doesn’t make it right though. You came into this world knowing how to look
after people, and somehow being born my son didn’t grind it out of you.”
    “Please
don’t say you’re proud of me. I’m too big to squirm.”
    She
took hold of his head and leaned in so she could kiss his cheek. “You’re never
too big to squirm.”
    He
squirmed. “Mum!” She kissed him again. “Charlie!”
    She
laughed and let him go. He’d gone through a phase after Flip was born where
he’d resented her so much he’d stopped calling her Mum. He was seventeen and potty
training was cramping his style. Now he only called her Mum for effect and he
only called her Charlotte when she was really pissing him off.
    “Are
you seeing Sky tonight?”
    “Yeah.”
    “Are
you going to tell me why you’re not moving in with her?”
    “No.”
    Charlie
flicked the twig into the garden bed. It was thick with weeds. If he could get
the girls to help they could have it all cleaned up in an hour. “Come on,
buddy. She’s hot and you’re into each other.”
    He
tapped down a squirm. “Are you desperate to reassign my room too?”
    “No.
You know I hated it when you lived with Polly those years. You can stay as long
as you like. I’ll never kick you out.”
    “Etta
would.”
    “Etta
doesn’t yet pay rent like you do.”
    “There
is that.”
    “You’re
restless. I’m wondering about that.”
    “I’m
twenty-seven. I live with a bunch of hormonal women.”
    She
swatted his leg. “I worry you think you have to stay. You don’t. I’ve got this
now. No more study. I’m healthy. My job is stable. Gin is doing fine. You don’t
have to be a parent anymore. You’re allowed to go have your own life.”
    During
the three years he’d lived party central with Polly, Gin was hospitalised five
times, Mum had pneumonia twice and Flip broke her arm. After he gave up the
fighting cage and enrolled at uni, he’d moved home because he was more often
there than not. But that was four years ago. He should want to sleep with Sky
every night, all night. He should want to be more than a shelf in her bathroom
cabinet and a drawer in her wardrobe. She was the best thing that had ever
happened to him. He should want to tie their two lives in strong knots. And Sky
was getting sick of his presence being transitory.
    “It’s
complicated, Charlotte.”
    “That’s
what you always say.”
    “I’m
allowed. It’s generational.” Only just, there was only sixteen years between
them.
    She
leaned against him again. “All right. I’ll give it up.”
    “No
you won’t.”
    “No,
I won’t. But I won’t annoy you any more now.”
    From
deep inside