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It was the lack of his warmth that woke her up. She was so used to his arm across her waist, or finding herself sprawled across his chest, that the lack of his body heat felt like winter. Sue lay quietly for five, then ten minutes. How long had he been gone before she woke up? She was worrying about nothing, obviously. She knew that. But she got up anyway.
He wasn’t in the nursery. They weren’t in the nursery. He clearly had been, and judging by the aroma, he’d changed Mena. In the kitchen, she could smell the faint, sweet scent of warmed milk. There was a bottle missing from the refrigerator. That always made her feel a twinge of guilt. Mena didn’t like drinking from a bottle. She wanted breast, irrespective of where she was, when it was, or who she was with.
Kent, in one of his rare moments of absolute inflexibility, had insisted that Sue couldn’t do every night feeding. She’d be exhausted. No arguments. Practicality on this issue outweighed idealism.
Sue had been too surprised to feel immediately guilty about agreeing. She had made up for it since then. It joined a long list of things about which she now felt guilty. Kent had told her that guilt shouldn’t be the natural state of motherhood. That it was probably the only thing mothers could learn from fathers: you can’t be everywhere and you can’t do everything. Accept that. Move on.
She found them on the balcony. Kent was sat on a picnic blanket, holding Mena against his bare shoulder, stroking her head as he looked up at the night sky. There was too much light to see the stars, but it was still beautiful.
Sue cleared her throat quietly. He switched his gaze to her and drew his brows together.
‘You shouldn’t be up,’ he murmured.
‘Shall I fetch a towel?’
‘No, she already had her wobble. She’s fine now.’
‘You hope.’ Sue sat down next to him and laid her head on his free shoulder.
‘Having trouble sleeping?’ he asked gently.
‘Woke up and you weren’t there.’
He rested his head against hers. ‘Sorry.’
‘You’re forgiven.’
***
Technically, they shouldn’t have taken her into work until nine, which was when day care opened, but neither of them was in a position to turn up to work at nine am. Sue’s desk was in a public area, more or less, so Kent generally took Mena into his office and locked the door. He either let her crawl around, or tucked her into a carefully adapted drawer of his filing cabinet until day care opened. It was both an open secret and a White House joke. For months, the more junior political correspondents at the less favoured news outlets had been mystified by the popularity of jokes about babies writing policy or manning the telephones. That these references came from not just from White House insiders but their senior brethren only added to their confusion. They knew that a baby had recently been born in the White House; it was the kind of cute but bland story the news ate up, but they couldn’t work out why the jokes persisted.
Sue had tried to work out how and where Kent changed Mena before he dropped her off, he often ate at his desk so it couldn’t be there, but he seemed to take a capricious pleasure in keeping it secret.
‘We had another offer,’ Sue said. She was nursing Mena while Kent made breakfast.
‘Hmm?’ He glanced at her over his shoulder.
‘Don’t pretend ignorance.’
Kent shrugged. ‘If you wish to give an interview and be photographed I won’t attempt to prevent you. Selina might consider giving you permission if she could be persuaded it would benefit her. Hmm, perhaps as a way of humanising her presidency.’
‘I’m not the issue,’ Sue said. She winced and tried to adjust Mena into a more comfortable position. ‘They would want the three of us.’
He turned around and put down the two plates of scrambled eggs and bacon on the table. He covered his own plate and began chopping her food up into easy, bite sized chunks.
‘Hmm, well, no,’ Kent said.
Sue opened her mouth as he held up a forkful of food. Being hand fed had quickly passed from a faintly embarrassing romantic gesture that neither of them ever did, to a basic necessity. As she swallowed her mouthful of food, Kent carefully removed a speck from her lip.
‘The photographer would be excellent,’ she said. ‘We could have some beautiful shots taken.’
‘We don’t have to have ourselves splashed all over a tabloid to achieve that.’ Kent carefully scooped up some bacon with the egg. ‘You don’t like the photographs we had taken?’
Sue closed her eyes for a moment, enjoying the salt tang of the bacon. ‘The photographs we had taken of me and Philomena.’
‘And you both looked beautiful.’ He took a bite of food.
Sue tilted her head. ‘You know that isn’t the point.’
‘I take a lousy photograph.’
‘For someone with an interest in photography you demonstrate a surprising lack of interest in meeting professionals in the field.’
Kent’s lips twitched. ‘My lack of interest is entirely in being the subject.’
She looked at him. A little colour touched his cheeks. ‘I appreciate that you don’t want Mena to be subjected to publicity.’
‘It’s a little late for that,’ Kent said dryly. ‘Our daughter is on Wikipedia.’
‘First baby born in the White House for a hundred years. Second child of colour born in the White House. First child born in the White House not a member of the presidential family either immediate or extended.’ Sue allowed herself a smile. ‘My sister may never forgive me.’
‘That undoubted triumph exempted…’
‘You’re not comfortable with her being in the public eye.’
That was something of an understatement and they both knew it. The Wikipedia entry had now been filleted to simply acknowledging the birth of ‘a baby’, where, and when. Kent had enlisted his sister-in-law, Diane, and she had been ferocious in rooting out every other detail from every website under US legal purview.
Kent fed Sue another mouthful of food and then kissed a speck of food away.
‘I want photographs of us,’ Sue said gently. ‘As a family. When she’s a baby and as she’s growing up.’
Kent sighed. ‘Alright. I’m aware that photographs of us all together… I know that’s important to you.
‘It should be important to you.’ Sue gently kissed Mena’s forehead. ‘One day it’ll be important to her. One day they’ll be all she –’
He held up his hand before she could say it. ‘Sold. We’ll have photographs done. Just… not in some magazine. However arty the photographs might be, we could get something just as good done privately.’
Sue gently disengaged Mena and buttoned up her maternity bra. ‘Do you have any preference for photographer?’
‘I will leave it entirely to your discretion.’ Kent took Mena, flapped a hand towel onto his shoulder, rested her against the towel, and patted her back.
‘Does she seem somewhat out of sorts to you?’
‘She was uncharacteristically irritable last night,’ Kent said, putting his hand to Mena’s forehead. ‘I ascribed it to her afternoon nap being disturbed. She’s not alone in feeling discontented when her sleep has been suboptimal.’
‘Is she warm?’
‘Not to me but that’s scarcely a scientific judgement.’ Kent stood carefully. ‘I’ll get the thermometer.’
His stance had tightened and Mena protested at the sudden tension. Sue started to rise, but he had already strode from the room before she got to her feet. Despite arriving very slightly premature, Mena had proved strikingly resilient to the coughs and colds swirling the capitol. Sue was aware that she was waiting for it to happen, torn between anxiety at the undoubted distress to come, and the need for Mena’s immune system to develop.
Kent marched back into to the living room, holding the thermometer strip between his fingers as he tried to soothe Mena. Sue took it from him and gently pressed it to Mena’s forehead.
‘I’m sure it will turn out to be nothing noteworthy,’ she said.
‘Of course.’
Sue touched his hand. ‘You can probably relax.’
Kent stared at her for a moment and then rolled his shoulders. ‘Easier said than done.’
Sue checked the thermometer strip. ‘A touch high but only just.’ She showed it to him. ‘If you let them know at day care I’m sure that they’ll keep a particular eye on her.’
***
Sue was juggling an irate prime minister and a screaming secretary general when she saw Kent erupt out of his office and almost run down the corridor. She put both the phones on hold and looked around the room. Nobody else was rushing or even looking particularly stressed. Only Ben appeared to have noticed Kent’s sudden exit. He jerked his thumb towards the corridor.
‘What crawled up his exhaust and laid eggs?’
‘No idea,’ Sue said. She took one of the irate politicians off hold and made a half-hearted attempt at soothing him. In the corner of the room, Mike looked at his cell, looked around the room, looked at Sue, and left.
‘Uh huh.’ Sue gestured at Greta as she switched over to the other phone line. She put the phone on mute as Greta approached.
‘Run and see what Mike is doing. Don’t let him see you. Come back or call when you know.’
The redhead blinked. ‘You want me to spy on Mister – ’
‘Yes. Quickly or you’ll lose him.’ She tried to concentrate on the call as Ben wandered over.
‘What the fuck is going on?’
Sue pointed at the phone. Ben plucked it from her hand.
‘She said no twelve times you idiot. Go away.’ He thumbed the phone off.
‘That was the prime minister of Russia,’ she said.
‘What’s he going to do call a nuclear strike? He’s just Putin’s poppet. Puppet. Did I say poppet?’
Sue nodded. ‘He didn’t hear that. He did hear you call him an idiot.’
Ben rubbed his forehead. ‘Well he doesn’t know who I am.’
Sue raised an eyebrow. ‘No. Only that you are someone in the office of POTUS.’
‘Shit.’
***
Greta slipped back with a hunted look and sheepish expression.
‘Well?’
‘Uh, Mr Davison was there and he kinda caught me and –’
Kent gestured at Sue from the doorway. ‘Miss Wilson, a moment in my office.’
‘I didn’t rat you out, I swear!’
Sue sighed as she walked to Kent’s door. It was closed, so she tapped on it before she pushed it open, and shut it behind her as Kent was putting on his jacket and packing his things.
‘Philomena has a fever,’ he said. His tone was clipped. ‘It’s not dangerously high. She also has a burgeoning cough. I’m going to... I’m going to…’ He put his hand against the wall and took several sharp, shallow breaths.
Sue crossed him to him as he tugged at his tie. ‘What’s the matter?’
He waved her away and turned aside as she put her hand on his shoulder. ‘Are you in pain?’
Kent shook his head as bent forward, putting his hands on his knees. He was breathing very quickly but in loud shallow breaths.
‘I’ll call –’ Sue reached for her cell but he grabbed her hands.
‘No... No... Be okay... I’ll be okay.’
‘You need a doctor.’
He shook his head. ‘Don’t need one. Please. Just go.’
‘I am going nowhere.’
There was a perfunctory knock on the door and it started to open. Kent paled. Sue cursed inwardly, and leapt across to the door. She opened the door, and closed it behind her, blocking the doorway with her body.
‘Ma’am, can I help you?’
Selina glanced at her watch. ‘It’s not lunchtime, what the fuck are you doing in there?
‘Discussing the accommodations for your tour of the Deep South.’
‘Uh, huh.’ Selina folded her arms. ‘And why is he hiding in there?’
‘Mr Davison is on the telephone.’
‘On the phone.’
‘Yes, Ma’am.’
Selina tapped her foot. ‘Sue, you’re not one of these idiots so I’m trying to be patient. But I’ve just about had enough. Okay? Open the fucking door.’
There was a gentle pressure as Kent pulled the door handle. Sue stepped aside. Kent was pale but he’d straightened his clothes and tie.
‘Ma’am?’ he asked.
She narrowed her eyes. ‘Are you going somewhere?’ Selina nodded at his briefcase.
Kent licked his lips. ‘Home, Ma’am, and the doctor’s.’
‘Excuse me? You’re going home?’
He leant heavily against the doorjamb. ‘Our daughter has a fever, ma’am, so one of us has to take her home. I can work from home. Miss Wilson cannot. Ergo, I am going.’
‘Do you have the paediatrician’s number?’ Sue asked. ‘How bad is her cough? Should I –’
‘Oh Christ!’ Selina threw up her hands. ‘Just go, already. Kent, make sure you tell Sue when the doctor tells you what a pair of pussies you are. Anyone would think that nobody ever had a baby before.’ She shook her head. ‘Babies get sick, people. Toddlers get sick. Kids get sick. Fucking babies can projectile vomit like they escaped from the Exorcist set. You think it’s all panic stations now. In eighteen months’ time you won’t even turn over when she starts sneezing.’
Sue watched her stomp away and then turned to Kent; he was clearly ready to leave. ‘Why did you call Mike?’
‘What?’ he asked blankly.
‘You called Mike. Why?’
‘Oh.’ Kent shrugged. ‘He has kids. I needed an outside perspective. He said fevers were common but it was always wise to check them out.’ He kissed her cheek. ‘I’ll call you.’
She watched him go. She didn’t know which one of them to worry about more. She waited fifteen minutes and called Charlie.
‘I have a personal question,’ Sue said, walking into Kent’s office and shutting the door.
‘Sounds fun, shoot.’
‘Have you ever known Kent to apparently struggle for breath? To be a little disoriented and yet refuse medical assistance?’
There, was a pause of several seconds. ‘You haven’t seen that before?’ Charlie asked.
‘No.’
‘Not even when you were first pregnant and waiting for the test results for Lola?’
Charlie was the only one to use that name and neither of them had seen any need to dissuade her. The diminutive gave Sue a pang. Should she have insisted on taking Mena home herself?
‘No,’ Sue said. ‘Although when we had the all clear he left the room very suddenly for some minutes.’
‘I’m not sure I should say,’ Charlie said. ‘Oh, hell, he should have told you. Kent has a little… turn now and then. Not often. I don’t mind telling you, it scared the shit out of me the first time. Saying he couldn’t breathe. It’s like a stress or anxiety thing. It doesn’t happen more than a couple of times a year. Sometimes less than that.’
Sue pinched the bridge of her nose. ‘Why didn’t he tell me?’
‘Well, he probably was fretting about what you’d think.’ Charlie sighed. ‘He’ll be worrying about you losing respect for him.’
‘I was afraid he was having a seizure or something.’
‘Whoa, tone, honey. Him not telling you has nothing to do with me.’
***
Kent sounded far too distracted and, yes, flustered on the phone for her to make an issue of it. Mena had a virus. They were to monitor her temperature, keep her comfy, and try not to worry too much.
‘I asked him to quantify how much that was, but he was as forthcoming as a stunned ground-hog.’
Sue was tempted to ask if someone had hit him on the head, but refrained. He didn’t sound as if he could take it.
‘Do we have everything we need to ensure that she is kept comfortable?’
‘Uh, I think so. I stopped off on the way home.’
***
He’d been drinking. Sue smelt it as soon as he kissed her cheek. Not drunk. Nothing even close to it. It made her wary, nonetheless.
‘How is she?’
Kent rested one hand on his waist while the other covered his eyes. ‘Miserable. She obviously feels horrible and is getting frustrated I can’t help.’
Sue hung up her coat and slipped out of her shoes. ‘Are you sure that she’s the one getting frustrated?’
He dropped his hands and sighed. ‘It’s by no means exclusive to her.’
Sue squeezed his hand and walked into the nursery. Mena was lying on her back, her breathing heavy and laboured.
‘Has she eaten?’
Kent nodded as he dropped into the chair. ‘Her appetite was poor. She had some of the Creamy Yummy butternut squash, and a little stewed pear afterwards.’
‘Is there any of the pear left?’ Sue asked bending to rub Mena’s chest.
‘No, sorry, I ate it all.’
Sue could hear the slight smile in his voice. She frowned as she turned to him.
‘You know that’s my favourite.’
‘I could poach you a pear in brown sugar and cinnamon, or stewed in red wine.’
Sue took off her wig and scratched her scalp. ‘Those do sound good,’ she said. ‘It’s not the same.’
‘I know,’ he said meekly. ‘Sorry.’ He licked his lips. ‘You have that expression.’
‘Which?’
‘The one where you say something like “we need to have a conversation,” and I immediately panic.’
‘Don’t panic.’ Sue walked over to him and stroked her fingers over the back of his hand. She smiled as he pulled her down onto his lap. ‘Have we done this before?’
Kent slipped his arms around her waist. ‘I don’t believe so. Fun, isn’t it?’
Sue rubbed her feet against his legs. ‘Are you attempting to distract me?’
‘Is it working?’
‘It is quite diverting.’ She kissed him. ‘Tell me about the office.’
He looked at her blankly for a moment. ‘The… oh, that.’
‘Don’t attempt to minimise my entirely appropriate concern. That is beneath you.’ Sue pinched the back of his hand.
‘That wasn’t my intent.’
‘What was your intent?’
He shook his head. ‘I suppose to convince you that I had given you an entirely erroneous impression of the severity of the event. Wholly my responsibility, not yours.’
Sue waited. He sighed.
‘The day care called,’ he said. ‘They said they were sure it was nothing major. The immune systems of babies are untested. Getting sick is how they build their defences. It’s entirely natural and completely normal.’
Sue stroked her fingers through his hair. ‘Who are you convincing?’
‘Oh, myself absolutely. Unfortunately it doesn’t seem to be working.’
‘So you got agitated yourself into a state?’
Kent shook his head. ‘Not precisely. It’s happened before without apparent direct cause. The body suddenly responds as if there is desperate imminent danger, flooding the system with hormones, altering heart rate, and breathing. But the brain has no idea why the body suddenly thinks it’s in terrible danger. It reacts to the racing heart and the flood of adrenalin with panic.’ Kent shrugged. ‘It’s not pleasant.’
Sue squeezed his hand. ‘You didn’t tell me.’
‘It wasn’t exactly an optimal time for a medical discussion.’
‘Kent, this has happened before. You had every reason to imagine it would happen again. You should have told me before now.’
He looked down at her hands. ‘I was hoping you wouldn’t have to know.’
‘You know that doesn’t make things better.’
‘I was… embarrassed. I didn’t want you to think the worse of me.’
She tipped up his face and looked him in the eye. ‘That’s the second time you’ve kept something from me because you didn’t want me to think badly of you.’
Kent grunted. ‘Shall I apologise for your opinion being important to me?’
‘You could apologise for not trusting me.’ Sue held up her hand as he began to protest. ‘I have no reservations about telling you anything. You clearly have them about me.’
‘That’s unfair,’ he said quietly. ‘You know that my reticence is no reflection on you.’ He put his arm across her lap to keep her from falling as he shifted position. ‘If I feel ashamed then surely it’s natural for me to worry that other people would consider it shameful.’
Sue kissed him. ‘I’m not other people, Kent.’
His reply was masked by Mena’s wail. He sighed heavily and hung his head.
Sue slipped off his lap and over to the cot. She picked up Mena and cradled the baby against her shoulder. ‘If it was anyone else you wouldn’t think it shameful.’
‘It’s not anyone else.’ Kent stood and then didn’t seem to know what to do with himself. He stroked Mena’s back and then touched Sue’s waist. ‘I trust you. I’m aware I may not have given that impression.’
‘Go and have a nap, Kent,’ she said gently. ‘You’re tired and stressed.’
He nodded. ‘I’ve put a casserole in the oven. It’ll be ready in about forty minutes.’
‘Okay.’
***
Sue didn’t know where Mena got the energy to wail, kick, and grizzle apparently without pause. She gave Mena a cool bath, which did bring down her temperature, but did little to improve her mood.
‘You have my temper and your father’s stubbornness,’ she said, patting Mena dry with a towel and speedily putting on a diaper.
Mena also had Kent’s hair and eye colouring. Her thick, corkscrew curls were on the cusp of dark blonde and light brown. They were striking against her burnt umber skin, as were her hazel eyes. They’d been told that her eye colour could still change but Sue hoped not. She rather liked the effect.
Sue lifted Mena up to eye level. ‘I hope you realise how much you are frightening your poor father.’
Mena burped.
‘Thank you for your contribution.’
When Sue talked to Mena about Kent, she always referred to him as her father. ‘Daddy’ was not a word that came easily to her but then neither was ‘mommy.’ Kent used them both, she heard him doing it habitually, which she found it both jarring and oddly appealing. He talked to Mena, if not more naturally, then certainly more spontaneously then she did. Sue found that she had to make a particular effort. Although she was generally perfectly happy to speak without expecting a reply, and with some people often would prefer not to receive one, she rarely expected to continue speaking. She found herself narrating what she was doing, for want of something else to say. Explaining where they were going and what they were doing. She’d rather delicately broached her discomfort to Kent – concerned that it was a symptom of some deeper difficulty. But he’d assured her that there would be other things with which she would be more comfortable. That there was nobody who found everything easy and automatic.
Sue had noticed that her mother said almost nothing to Philomena, unless specifically asked to read to her, while Caitlyn preferred to sing in a soft, Irish lilt. Charlie babbled almost without pause for breath or, apparently, thought. Kent told Mena stories almost constantly, told her stories and gave her interesting facts. By the time she went to school, Mena was going to know so many interesting facts she could probably take the class.
Sue finished fastening the clasps on Mena’s lilac onesie. Malcolm Tucker had sent some onesies in the style of ‘Star Trek’ uniforms, both the original series and the nineties versions. Sue had been far more amused than Kent, although that hadn’t stopped him from using them.
‘There, don’t you feel better now? Let’s go and see your father.’
Mena squealed and waved her tiny fists.
***
Kent was still deeply asleep when Sue turned off the stove and removed the casserole. She left the dish on the trivet and carried Mena into the bedroom.
Mena was complaining by the time she got there and Sue shut the bedroom door so she could crawl around safely. Kent was making almost as much noise, his words slightly slurred but without pause or obvious inflection. Sue sat on the bed and shook his shoulder but he was too deeply asleep. She wasn’t listening to his words. It was a deliberate choice. Perhaps one he would never be aware of, but that wasn’t the point. Not listening was the point.
When he subsided somewhat to a murmur, Sue picked up Mena.
‘One day, when you are old enough to not appreciate it, I will tell you how you kept us confused, exhausted, and stressed for months.’ Sue unbuttoned her blouse and opened her maternity bra. ‘Under other circumstances it would be considered inhumane treatment. I hope that you realise that.’ She relaxed a little as Mena latched on.
Kent grunted and stretched out under the covers. Sue gave his leg a gentle squeeze with her free hand. It had been a bad week even before the emerging virus. Mena had been sleeping poorly, which meant that the few hours of sleep that they managed to snatch were sparse and continually interrupted. She knew that she was looking worn and Kent had dark smudges like bruises under his eyes.
‘I suspect that your being unwell is raising unpleasant memories with your father.’ She stoked Mena’s tiny fingers. ‘There’s little point to my asking him about it. Your father is not a man who willingly admits any weakness. He’s rather like your grandmother in that respect. When you’re old enough, one of us will tell you about your brother. Your father loved him very much and we should too.’
Mena’s fierce grip relaxed. Sue gently disengaged her and wiped her face. Mena’s eyes were fluttering and her right hand was clenching and unclenching. Sue gently burped her and then carried her into the nursery. Mena was just starting to snore, a tiny little splutter, as Sue tucked her in. Sue kissed her forehead and her soft, chubby cheeks. It never failed to surprise her how soft and delicate Mena’s skin was.
Returning to the bedroom, Sue changed into one of Kent’s old t-shirts and climbed into the bed next to him. He turned towards automatically, as if drawn to her heat, or the scent of her skin. Sue closed her eyes as she fitted herself against him.
***
She was running but something was catching at her. Tangling at her legs. Dragging her back. Dragging her back…
‘Sue.’
Where was she? She had been there… how could she… oh God… Where was she?
‘Sue, wake up. You’re having a nightmare. You need to wake up.’
She was gasping for breath. Everything was spinning. Kent caught her before she lunged off the bed and pulled her back against him.
‘It’s alright,’ he promised, holding her against him, and kissing her temple. ‘It was nothing but a dream.’
‘Did we… Where is she? What’s… Where’s Philomena?’
‘She’s fine,’ Kent said. ‘She in the playpen, in the corner, see? I’m fine. She’s fine. You’re fine.’
Mena was lay on her front poking at the musical gym, utterly absorbed, and completely oblivious to the upheaval behind her. Sue closed her eyes and lent back against Kent.
‘That seemed to be quite the nightmare.’ Kent still had his arms around her waist and he stroked his fingers over her upper arm.
‘It was. I… I don’t want to talk about it.’
‘Good.’ Kent kissed her cheek. ‘Nothing is quite as dull as other people’s dreams.’
Sue snorted. ‘That’s certainly true.’
He shook his head. ‘An anxiety episode and bad dreams. Between us we might be on the verge of a breakdown.’
Sue shook her head and back leant against him. ‘You know that I’m no stranger to bad dreams.’
‘I heard what you said.’ Kent buried his face in her neck.
‘About what?’
‘Matty.’
Sue looked down at his arms. The hair there was only lightly scattered and still midway between blond and caramel brown. He had a scattering of freckles but only along his arms. If she closed her eyes, she thought she could map them with her fingertips.
‘I thought you were asleep,’ she said.
‘I know.’
‘I had imagined that you had been too forgiving of Charlie. Before Philomena was born I was unaware of the ridiculousness of expecting anyone in that position to be in any way rational or proportionate.’
Kent was shaking his head. ‘I didn’t provide you with all the information.’
She looked at him over her shoulder. ‘If anything happened to her –’
‘It won’t.’ He nodded over to where Mena was kicking her legs. ‘She’s in the eightieth percentile for height and weight. She’s been tested for everything possible and she is in perfect, glowing health.’
‘I know.’ Sue took a long, deep breath and let it out slowly. ‘I know that at the moment everything is fine. But we have no idea what the future might bring.’
Kent kissed her ear. ‘Sue, we are remarkably privileged. We have access to the best medical facilities in the world, we have excellent insurance, ample funds, and both political connections and personal fortitude. If something happened, we would be in an excellent position but I don’t believe it will. Illness rarely attacks the strong.’
‘You make a good point.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Kent?’
‘Hmm?’
‘Why are you sat behind me?’ Sue looked at him over her shoulder. Caught the flicker of indecision on his face.
He shrugged. ‘I suppose it is simply force of habit. When you wake from a bad dream, it’s not uncommon for you to be confused and sometimes angry. This maximises my ability to soothe you without negative physical interaction.’ He slid his arms from her waist.
Sue turned around to face him. ‘Are you saying that I’m violent?’
‘You’ve been… forceful in expressing your emotional distress.’
She stared at him for a moment. ‘Have I assaulted you?’
That he paused to pick his words was answer in itself. ‘There are times where you are deeply distressed and disoriented.’
She looked away. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘Sue, what would be the point? Either you are in control of your actions, in which case telling you is redundant, or you’re not, in which case telling you is simply cruel.’
She snorted. ‘Cruel.’
‘You gave me permission to be a little protective,’ he said quietly. ‘I’m simply using it.’
Sue put her hand to his cheek. ‘But I haven’t… injured you.’
Kent shrugged. ‘You’re not short of physical resources. You’ve given me the odd bruise but not recently. If I sit behind you it tends to be nothing more than an elbow in the ribs.’
‘I’ve physically assaulted you, more than once, and you didn’t tell me.’ Sue dropped her hand. ‘What was the worst?’
He shook his head. ‘This is gaining us nothing.’
Sue folded her arms. ‘I would like to know. I have a right to know. Did I... when we co-sleeping with Mena...’
‘No. Never. You never did anything like that. Once or twice, you picked her up. Cried a little.’ Kent touched her hand. ‘You would never hurt her, Sue. No matter how confused or upset you were.’
A small smile struggled free. ‘Thank you.’
‘Can we go eat now?’
She bit her lower lip. ‘You haven’t answered my question. You haven’t told me the worst.’
Kent nodded as he got off the bed. ‘And we’ll both be happier if you don’t insist.’
Sue rubbed her forehead. ‘I’m trying to be patient, Kent, but you know how I feel about you keeping things from me.’
He put his hand on his hip. ‘I really don’t believer that this is helpful.’
‘Tell me.’
Kent rubbed his face. ‘Sue –’
‘Tell me.’
He pursed his lips as he looked at her. ‘You kicked me in the stomach. I was winded and I was sore for a day or two. I had it checked and it was fine.’
She swallowed as she looked away. She felt the bed dip as he sat next to her. He took her hand between his own.
‘It was once. It wasn’t serious.’
‘I don’t know why I would do that,’ she said softly.
‘Look at me?’ He was frowning. Selecting each word carefully. ‘I don’t know what you dreamt. But you were frightened, distressed, and hurt. Whatever you were dreaming, Sue, you felt that I… let you down or abandoned you.’ He rubbed her hand. ‘The fact that the cause was inauthentic doesn’t make your emotional response any less genuine.’
Sue crossed her legs. ‘What’re you saying?’
‘I’m saying that I hope to never give you cause to feel that way.’ He shrugged. ‘If I do then perhaps I deserve an elbow in the ribs or a knee in the stomach.’ He stood up and pulled her to her feet. ‘Now, please can we eat?’
She surprised him, putting her arms around his neck. ‘Promise me that you won’t let me do that again.’
‘I promise I’ll do my best.’
Sue nodded. ‘Good enough.’
~ End ~