Torey Hayden - Overheard in a Dream

Before going to Toys ’R’ Us, James first stopped off at the house to take the suitcase inside. It was at that point Mikey vomited all over the kitchen floor.

“I wonder if he’s got stomach flu,” Becky said.

“Let’s hope not,” James replied as he filled a bucket with water and disinfectant.

“Let’s hope I don’t get it,” Becky said. It sounded like a threat.

Mikey wasn’t well at all. Clutching a plastic dishpan, he lay down on the couch in front of the TV.

Becky, tired from the long journey and miserably disappointed at this turn of events, started to moan. She didn’t like what Mikey was watching on TV. She didn’t want to be around him because he was sick. There weren’t any good DVDs to watch. The clothes in her suitcase were all wrinkled. She’d forgotten to pack her hairbrush. Most of all, however, she moaned about not going to Toys ’R’ Us. She wanted to go. Now! Desperately. Please couldn’t they go? Why couldn’t Mikey just walk around for a little while?

James gently explained that Mikey was too sick at the moment to be taken out.

Becky wasn’t in the mood to be understanding, wailing what was the point of coming all this way when there was no trip to Toys ’R’ Us?

“I hope there are other reasons for coming besides toys,” James said, feeling a bit hurt.

“This is the worst visit in the world,” she exclaimed, adding “I wish I was home” as she stomped off.

Things went from bad to worse overnight. Mikey continued to vomit, and James was up and down all night comforting him. He came out bleary-eyed into the kitchen to find Becky spooning sugar into her Coco Pops.

“Hey, not the whole bowl,” he said

“I wish you had a parrot, Dad,” Becky replied brightly.

“A parrot ?”

“Uncle Joey’s got a parrot. His name is Harry and he can say 23 words. I wish you had one, so I could talk to it.”

“I don’t have one because parrots really shouldn’t be kept in captivity. They’re too intelligent. They need lots of stimulation. It’s cruel to keep them as pets.”

“Guess what else Uncle Joey has?” she said. “A house out on Long Island right on the beach. He’s going to take me and Mikey and Mum out there on the weekends when it’s summer.”

“Lucky you,” James replied.

“Know what he got me? That Barbie horse that I’ve been wanting so bad.”

“Becky, I got you the Barbie horse.”

“No, not that one. That’s the old kind. Uncle Joey got me the one that has legs you can bend so that you can pose it like it’s really walking. And guess what else? He got me the carriage that goes with it too and I didn’t even ask for it.”

“What’s Joey do to afford all this loot? Rob banks?”

Becky laughed. “No, silly. He’s a lawyer.”

“Pretty much the same thing.”

Mid-afternoon and Mikey was still vomiting, so James packed up Becky, Mikey and the dishpan into the Mustang and headed for the walk-in clinic.

During the interminable wait to see a doctor, Mikey staged a sufficient recovery to want a Coke out of the vending machine. It took two hours, a blood test and most of James’s patience to learn that Mikey had “just one of those things kids get”. Mikey sipped the rest of his Coke and looked generally pleased with himself.

“If Mikey’s feeling better, can we go to Toys ’R’ Us now?” Becky asked.

“That’s clear on the other side of town and it’s practically dinnertime. I think what we really need is a decent meal.”

“I want to go to McDonald’s. They have a playground.”

“No, we need something healthy. What about that Italian deli that does take-out? We could pick up some of their lasagna and take it home. You loved that last time, remember? You can help me pick out a salad.”

By the time they got to the deli, Mikey wasn’t feeling so hot any more. He didn’t want to go in and smell food.

“Okay, look, here’s what we do,” James said. “I’m going to park here by the window where I can see you the whole time. Becks and I are going to pop in and get our food, and we’ll be right back. You lock the door while we’re gone. We’ll be just in there.”

The deli was unexpectedly busy. James wasn’t focusing on anything other than getting through the mob of people to place his order, so he jumped at the tap on his shoulder and someone saying hello. He turned.

There in the other queue stood Laura Deighton.

“Mummy, look at this,” a small voice called. “Can we get some of these?”

“Bring it here so I can see it, Morgana,” Laura said.

James looked over. Morgana? Conor’s sister? He gaped in astonishment. She was everything Conor was not: a sturdy, athletic child with enormous brown eyes and a tangle of loose, dark curls bouncing down over her shoulders. When she caught James staring, she met him with a bold gaze and broke into a cherubic smile. Yin and yang. That was the first thought to cross James’s mind.

“Is this your daughter?” Laura asked, looking down at Becky. “What a pretty little girl.”

“Yes. Yes, this is Becky. My son’s out in the car. He’s not feeling very well.”

“Sorry to hear that,” Laura said.

“We’ve just popped in to get some decent food so he doesn’t have to smell us cooking,” James said wryly.

“We’ve come in for goodies,” Laura replied. “Alan has Conor tonight, so we’re having a girls’ night out.”

James looked down again at Morgana, who was clutching a bag of amaretti biscuits. She was an astonishingly beautiful child with her vibrant eyes, curly hair and little bow mouth, like one of those idealized children painted on heirloom plates to commemorate a golden era that had never really existed. Beside her, Conor would appear as pale and insubstantial as a ghost.

Becky, ever the social butterfly, was delighted by this unexpected opportunity to make friends. With smiley openness she said hello to Morgana, asked how old she was and within moments the girls had wandered off together to look at displays of cookies on the adjacent shelves while James and Laura waited in the queues.

“It’s great to see you. How are you doing?” Laura said brightly, as though they were old friends.

This took James by surprise because over the weeks he had been seeing Conor, Laura had made herself remarkably scarce. So scarce, in fact, that James had had the distinct feeling she was avoiding him. And while she had agreed to the family therapy format which meant she would have at least three individual sessions herself with James as part of Conor’s treatment, Laura had made no arrangements to follow through on this. As a consequence, James built up an image of her as reclusive, anxious and, most likely, tongue-tied. Now, however, he found her quite the contrary: friendly, relaxed and genuinely interested in the children. She commiserated with James about Mikey’s sickness and his experiences at the walk-in clinic.

James glanced around to see where the two girls had gone.

“They seem to be enjoying each other,” Laura said.

James smiled. “It’ll be the highlight of Becky’s day. She always misses her friends terribly when she’s here.” He craned to see over the low shelves. “Oh good heavens. Hold on a second. They’ve gone out to my car.”

James started for the door but at just that moment the two girls burst back in. “Hey, Daddy!” Becky cried. “Guess what! Mikey’s thrown up everywhere!”

“Shush, shush, not such a loud voice,” James said, catching her by the shoulder.

“He missed the dishpan! It’s all over your car.”

“Oh geez,” James said. “Listen, go tell the man at the counter we can’t wait for the lasagna. Tell him sorry.”