Page 18 of Bare
‘D'you think Mr Cavanaugh's a good artist? Like, a proper one?’
‘I think he's very good.’
‘Have you seen his proper paintings? Not the school ones?’
‘I've seen some online.’
‘Can I see?’
‘After dinner. If you eat your pasta.’
‘What if I eat MOST of my pasta?’
‘All of it.’
‘Even the garlic bits?’
‘Especially the garlic bits.’
‘You're a hard man, Dad.’
‘I know.’
Freddie ate the pasta. Including the garlic bits, like a prisoner swallowing medicine. Neil showed him two paintings on the gallery website, the ones least likely to prompt questions about faceless figures and bruised colours. Freddie studied them with the attention of a critic at a private view. His face did the thing it did when he was thinking, the slight furrow, the lower lip bitten, the stillness so unlike his usual velocity.
‘They're quite angry, aren't they? But good angry. Like when you shout at the football and then you're happy because they scored.’
‘That's actually a very good analysis.’
‘I know. I'm clever.’ He tilted his head. ‘Why doesn't the person have a face?’
‘Because the painting isn't about what they look like. It's about how they feel.’
‘How do they feel?’
‘Heavy.’
‘Heavy like sad-inside?’
‘Heavy like carrying something.’
Freddie considered this. ‘I'd draw a face. So you could see if they were okay.’
‘That's a different kind of painting.’
‘It's a BETTER kind. If someone's heavy-sad, you should be able to see their face. So you can help.’
Neil closed the laptop. Freddie, who had never once in his life hidden his feelings, didn't understand why anyone would paint a person and leave out the part that mattered.
The fridge had three calendars on it. His in navy. Gemma's in magenta. Freddie's nursery rota in green. Neil looked at the October page while the kettle boiled.
The week his. Weekends Gemma’s. He had asked for the extra nights, because he lived alone, because Freddie’s room was here, and because Gemma had said yes, alright in the meeting with Shirley Jennings, family solicitor, twenty-two quid parking at the Arndale, and Shirley had written it into the agreement, in clauses with numbers.
Neil knew the clauses by their numbers.
Clause 4.2: the child shall reside primarily with the father.
Clause 6.1: both parties agree to act in the best interests of the child.
