Mum and dad rolled into town for a threeday visit, but Pauls been away for ages.
Mabel was standing in the hallway, keys in her hand, as if the knock didnt even register. Her coat was still damp, the umbrella dripping, and the milk bag on the counter had a torn handle. Evening was winding down, the stairwell already smelling of someones dinner and a cat somewhere upstairs.
At the door was Veronica, a matriarch in a knitted scarf and polished shoes, pushing a rolling suitcase, clutching a bag with something steaming. Her voice was that oldschool cinemaactress tone, bright with a hint of drama.
Darling, Im here for three days! Brought a cherry piePaul loves it, she announced, already in the hallway while Mabel just exhaled. Didnt you tell me the building code changed? I was about to leave, then turned the suitcase around and had to hunt down the caretaker for the new code.
Mabel stayed quiet, nodding toward an empty space behind her shoulder as if someone else were standing there, though the flat was unnervingly quiet.
Wheres Paul? Veronica asked, slipping off her shoes, glancing at the hall coat rack where a single hook was empty. No jacket, no boots, not even his scent or his usual mess. Hell be back later, right? Well all have dinner togetherI’ve brought some rice pilaf. Peter, Pauls dad, will pop in; he had to dash to a friends urgent business. And Sam? Still at nursery?
Mabel managed a thin smile, as if someone had pulled at a loose thread.
Hes stuck in a meeting, she said.
Ah, work, work Veronica muttered, eyes flitting too fast. She noticed there was only one cup on the shelf, a halfused shampoo bottle in the bathroom, kids drawings on the fridge, and Pauls photos were gone.
Veronica set the pie on the table, opened the pilaf container, and took Mabels hand. Dont worry, love. Just take a breath. Well sit, eat. Your dad will be here, and youll have a laugh with himhes a good sort.
Mabel nodded, sat down, lifted her plate but didnt touch the food. The kettle roared to a boil, sounding like a complaint.
A little later they headed out for Sam. Veronica carried mittens and a thermos of compote, while Mabel walked silently, clutching her sleeve. In the lift, heading back, they ran into the neighbour Lydia. She flashed a smile, then launched into her rapidfire gossip:
Mabel, isnt your ex back with that paintedup lady from the shop? With a pram? He never looks after the kid, does he?
Veronica pressed her lips together, ignoring both Mabel and Lydia.
Lydia Mabel breathed out.
Just saying, everyone knows the truth.
That evening, when Veronica pulled a blanket from the wardrobe and carefully spread it over the sofa, she paused, holding a pillow for a long moment. Then, without looking up, she whispered, Hes gone? Wheres my son? What happened?
Mabel stood in the kitchen doorway, back straight, hands on the kettle.
Three months ago. He said he was going to a meeting and never came back.
Where to?
Mabel didnt answer, just stared past her.
Veronica sat, placed the blanket nearby, set her bag on her lap, and pulled out another tiny pie in a plastic tin. I baked this just for you. He promised everything was fine that youd all go to the seaside this summer He She choked on the words, as if climbing a long staircase. Mabel stepped closer, set the kettle down, but didnt touch her.
The room was silent. Outside the window a old tram rumbled. Mabel leaned against the window, Veronica unmoving. Each lived in her own quiet.
A sharp click of the front door broke the hushPeter always slammed it with a bit of gusto, like a reminder hes still there. He strode in, jacket with a fur collar, a bag of oranges and a newspaper tucked under his arm.
Good afternoon, ladies! Look what Ive gotSpanish oranges, sweet as a summer memory.
He hung his coat, moved to the kitchen where three pairs of eyes met: Mabels tired, Veronicas uneasy, and Sams bright, childlike stare. Sam, hearing his granddads voice, dropped his biscuit, lunged forward, clinging to Peters trousers as if they were a tree trunk, eyes sparkling.
Whats the silence? Peter asked, puzzled. Did I come at a bad time?
Paul Veronica began, but her voice cracked. She looked at Mabel as if asking permission.
Paul left, Mabel said calmly, as if shed repeated it a hundred times. Three months ago.
The orange bag thumped softly on the table, the newspaper followed. Peter sat, stared out the window, as if searching for answers in the street.
You think youve messed things up here? he snapped suddenly. You drove him away, Mabel. I barely recognized his voicehe came home like a condemned man!
Veronica whispered, Peter
What, Peter? Everythings hidden, and nowhello! You just ruined it, he gestured wildly.
Mabel didnt answer, just carried a cup to the sink, then stayed rooted in the doorway, wondering whether to leave or stay.
Veronicas face went pale. She rose, went to Peter, squeezed his shoulder; he didnt react right away.
He told me everything was fine. Sams healthy, youre doing great, holiday plansso you lied? her voice cracked. To me to my mother.
Peter looked up, lost for words.
I… I thought… He stumbled. Hes not a child; he decides for himself. Maybe someone else
Hes been with someone else for ages, Mabel said without turning. He lives with her the one from work, the one he was texting in the bathroom.
Peter got up, went onto the balcony, closed the door behind him, lit a cigarette in the dusk like a lone lighthouse. He didnt usually smoke around the grandkid, but now he did.
Ill call him, Mabel said. Let him explain himself.
Veronica said nothing, just closed her eyes.
The phone screen flashed Paul. After a few rings, a tired voice answered.
Hello?
Come over. Now. Dad and mum are here. Sam. We need to talk.
A pause, then a reluctant Alright. and the line clicked off.
Mabel glanced out the window; someone was shoveling snow from a path, white night, silent.
Twenty minutes later the lock clicked again. Paul slipped in, looking like a stranger in his own flat. He wore that same puffy jacket Mabel once used to pull chewing gum and receipts from. His hair was a bit tousled, a faint whiff of foreign cologne. He halted at the doorway.
Hey everyone he said, voice flat.
Sam ran toward him, stopped halfway. Paul awkwardly sat, pulling Sam close.
You dont live with us, Sam said matteroffactly, no accusation, just fact.
Paul hugged him, but didnt look up.
The kitchen was heavy with silence. Peter emerged from the balcony, the scent of his cigarette lingering. Veronica stared at her son as if seeing him for the first time.
You told me she began. You said everything was fine. That Mabel was brilliant. That Sam was happy. Did you lie, Paul?
I didnt want to hurt you.
And her? Veronica nodded toward Mabel. Did you want to hurt her? Or was it easier to just disappear?
Peter muttered, What were you doing, putting your own mother in that spot?
Paul slumped his hands on the table, as if surrendering.
Im not obliged to anyone not you, not her. I left because I didnt want to keep lying. I couldnt stay with Mabel, and I couldnt stay with you either.
You left because it was easier than staying and being a man, Veronica shot back. You betrayed not just her, but us, yourself.
Mabel sat in the corner, silent, as if shed already known everything.
Veronica moved to her son, touched his shoulder; her hand trembled.
You were better, Paul. I remember you differently.
He closed his eyes, saying nothing.
Sam peeked into the kitchen again, this time just standing in the doorway, watching.
Paul stood, took a step back, his face hardening like a mask. He turned sharply and walked out, slamming the doorquiet but definite, a full stop to the chapter.
Morning broke, grey light spilling onto the windowsill, fresh snow on the sill. Peter was back with the paper, Sam was eating porridge, Veronica was moving dishes around, and Mabel lingered by the window.
Mabel straightened, her voice steadier: I can collect the appliances you gave usmicrowave, slow cooker, kettle. Take them if you wish. I was planning a renovation anyway. Changing things wont stop me. It just feels right to clear everything out.
Veronica snapped, Are you insane? Its only morning and youre already talking about the furniture. Weve got nothing to split. Were not thieves. We should apologize, not loot.
Sam, playing with his toy cars on the carpet, looked up: Grandma, will dad come?
Veronica inhaled deeply, knelt, and stroked his head. He will, love, but a bit later. Want a cartoon now?
Sam nodded.
Mabel stood in the doorway, no tears, no angerjust a dull ache, like the lingering hum after a loud concert. She set the kettle on; it whistled, filling the room with background noise. Ahead lay a simple day, new and ordinary, as if everything were starting afresh.
The bathroom smelled of soap and dry air. Veronica was at the sink, washing slowly as if meditating. Mabel walked in, reached for a towel, but paused.
Leave it, Veronica said without turning. Ill take it.
Mabel didnt reply, took the towel anyway, placed it nearby, and waited.
Im not angry with you, she finally said. Im just tired of having to explain that it wasnt all my fault.
Veronica leaned on the basins edge, shaking her head. I was angry at myself. I didnt see what was happening. I thought you had everything: love, family, happiness. I kept telling everyone that.
Mabel nodded. The two women stood in the cramped bathroom, bound by the same son, the same house, the same past.
Sorry, Veronica whispered. For everything. I thought you couldnt hold us together, but now I see youre the one whos been holding on for all of us, even when we didnt need it.
Mabel sat on the tub edge, softly: Ill keep holding myself. No one else.
From the kitchen Sam shouted, Mum, where are my shark socks? and something clattered.
And his, Mabel added, Ill look after him a bit longer.
They smiled, a weary, genuine, womentowomen kind of smile.
Later, at the doorway, they hugged for a long while. Peter stood nearby, shifting uneasily from foot to foot.
I was wrong too, he mumbled. Guys arent taught to speak up, not as kids, not later.
Learn, Mabel said. While theres someone to listen.
He nodded.
Sam bolted upstairs, slipped into shoes that didnt quite match, and raced down the stairs.
Well call you, Veronica said. Or you call us. Were family now, wherever we end up.
Mabel gave a small nod, embraced again.
The flat was almost empty nowminimal furniture, boxes against the wall, a single mug on the windowsill. Mabel put a spoon in a mug, filled it with hot water, opened the window, and a cool breath of something new slipped in.
Sam lay on the floor, drawing a sky with a green marker.
Why not blue? Mabel asked.
Because spring will be green, he replied. Spring is green.
She watched his hand trace the paper, then helped fix his collar.
Want to get some bread later?
Yes! And some oranges, but with the leaves on!
She smiled.
Outside, a tram clanged by, people laughed on the street below, light fell on the floor, and in that light there was everythingpain, forgiveness, and the sense of a fresh start.
Mabel settled beside Veronica, just sitting, no fear. For the first time, there was no fear at all.
