Free Blue Saturn by Libby Jay Page B

together and I’m reading a book to Mike when he starts to cry again.
    He won’t tell me what’s wrong. I give him some pain relief which he takes without any persuasion. He also finishes the small cup of water I offer him.
    But he will not stop crying.
    I run him a bath but he kicks and screams and refuses to get in. I try to distract him by ordering a kids movie but he won’t watch it. He lies on the floor, his hands clenched into balls and has a full blown tantrum.
    His irritable behaviour lasts for hours before finally, at one o’clock in the morning his body, in a state of absolute exhaustion, collapses onto the couch and he falls asleep. I contemplate carrying him to bed but I’m terrified that he’ll wake up and have another screaming episode. So I get the blanket from his bed and cover him with it.
    I’m just about to join him when I hear the door to the apartment open. I hear talking and a girl laughs. I quickly run toward the door and stand in front of Mike, pressing my finger to my lips.
    “Shhhh,” I hiss at him.
    “Don’t tell me to be quiet...”
    “Shut up,” I whisper to him. “Mikey...”
    But it’s too late. Mikey has heard Mike’s voice and he starts crying again.
    “Why isn’t he in bed?” Mike asks through clenched teeth.
    “He’s been crying for hours and he fell asleep on the couch. I didn’t want to move him.”
    Mike pushes past me, pulling a brunette behind him and goes straight up stairs. From my position, I see him enter Mikey’s room and close the door.
    I spend the next three hours with a screaming, cranky child.
     
    I’m semi conscious when I see the brunette leave. Ten minutes later, Mike appears. He’s dressed and is wearing sunglasses.
    “I got no sleep,” he says.
    “That makes three of us.”
    Mikey is sitting on the floor playing with Duplo. He stopped crying about two hours ago, but I’ve been hit with toy cars and blocks and goodness knows what else. I even have a bruise on my arm from a bite.
    “He seems happy enough,” Mike says.
    “Yeah, for now.” I stand up from the couch. “Are you heading out this morning?”
    “We’ve got a TV appearance this afternoon for the late show. We’re pre-recording it at midday.”
    “What time are you leaving?”
    “In an hour. Why do you care?”
    “Can I leave you to keep an eye on Mikey while I have a shower?”
    “Whatever,” he says, pulling orange juice from the fridge.
     
    I’m massaging shampoo through my hair when I hear Mikey crying again. There’s a loud bang at the door, following by a rattle as the door handle moves. The door is locked, thank goodness, so it doesn’t open.
    “Lyndsay. Open the door.”
    “Can you wait a minute?”
    “Open it now!” Mike yells out followed by two sharp bangs on the door.
    I get out of the shower, my hair still coated in foam, and put on a robe. I wrap my soapy hair in a towel and open the bathroom door.
    “He’s crying again,” Mike says as he pushes Mikey toward me. He turns and walks away.
    I shut the bathroom door and look down at Mikey. He is tired beyond words and looks pale.
    “Is your tummy hurting?” I ask for what feels like the thousandth time since leaving hospital.
    He shakes his head. “Mike won’t play with me.”
    Anger instantly fills me. Anger and frustration and suddenly I feel so tired and my head is thumping. I leave Mikey in the bathroom and head down toward the living are.
    “What the hell is your problem?” I yell at Mike, who is standing out on the balcony smoking.
    “My problem? I don’t have a problem.”
    “You can’t play with your son for ten minutes so I can shower in peace?”
    “He wants to play hide and seek. I don’t want to.”
    “He’s four years old Mike.”
    “Where the hell am I supposed to hide anyway?”
    “It’s a bloody penthouse apartment. There are hundreds of places to hide.”
    “Then why don’t you go sit in one and shut up. Stop hassling me about the kid. What am I paying you for