Page 96 of Finding Us
“Red,” I call out when I don’t find either of them in the main room or the kitchen.
“We’re in the bathroom.”
I’m not sure what I’m expecting to see when I round the corner, but it’s definitely not the deep, red scratches down the side of Jacinta’s beautiful face. The sight only fuels my anger. Connor told me they were shaken, but okay … there was no mention of injuries.
“Babe,” I say, opening my arms, and when she walks straight into them, I wrap her up tight. My eyes flicker to Blake in the bath. “You okay, bud?” He nods his head and goes back to playing with his toys. I scan the top half of his body, because it’s the only part visible, and when I see the finger mark bruises on his upper arm, my blood pressure rises to a dangerous level. It’s been many years since I felt this angry. My gaze moves back to Red. “What happened?”
She flicks her head towards the hallway, silently letting me know she doesn’t want to rehash it in front of Blake. Glancing over her shoulder, she says, “I’m going to talk to your dad … we’ll be just outside the door, okay?”
“Okay, Jazzie.”
At a glance, he seems like he’s doing really well considering what happened. I follow Red out. “How is he holding up?” I ask.
She lifts one shoulder. “Overall, pretty good, but he’s been very clingy since it happened.” She continues down the hallway before she stops and faces me; I presume so Blake can’t hear what she says. I ghost my knuckle over her cheek. “How are you? Did she do this?” I ask, gesturing to her face.
“Yes,” she says, nodding. “I was too busy shielding Blake to defend myself.”
“Babe,” I say, when I see her bottom lip quiver.
“She must’ve been watching us … waiting for the right moment to pounce.”
I still can’t wrap my head around how this happened. “Start from the beginning.”
“After I picked Blake up from school, we headed to the shops. I needed to order his birthday cake for the weekend, and I wanted him to choose it. He picked a dinosaur one,” she tells me as a small smile tugs at her lips. “One that looks like his Rex plushie.” I nod, because I don’t give two fucks about the cake right now. “Before we left, I went and bought him a milkshake and donut, and as we were heading towards the carpark, we passed a stationery shop that had these cute place settings in the window display. They were perfect, and it would mean Blake could choose who he wanted to sit near … I could also sit Tristan as far away from him as possible.”
“Red,” I say softly, reaching out to stroke my fingers over her hair. I love how thoughtful she is, but again that’s not the information I want to hear.
“When we entered the store, the sales assistant said they had a no food or drink policy … I almost walked back out.” She dips her face, looking down at her feet. “I wish I had.”
“You left him outside?” I ask, all the while hoping that’s not what she’s implying.
“No. I got him to stand in the doorway—I could see him the entire time. The counter was only a few metres away …”
Her words drift off, and it’s what she’s not saying that concerns me most. “And?”
When her eyes meet mine again, they’re brimming with tears. “I only looked away for a second.” And there it is.
I swear I almost pop an artery when that knowledge sinks in. My brow furrows. “Keep going,” I say, trying my best to remain calm.
“The sales assistant came back with two different dinosaur place cards, I glanced down, pointed to the one I wanted and when I looked back up, he was gone.”
I fist my hair in my hands, tugging on the strands. I can’t believe what I’m hearing. “I trusted him with you, Red!”
“I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry?”
“Yes.”
I am beyond mad, and if I was thinking with a level head, I’d realise that this was just one of those unfortunate circumstances—that this woman cares for my son and would never intentionally put him in harm’s way—but unfortunately, my rage is blurring the rational side of my brain.
Something inside me snaps, and old habits die hard. Before I even register what I’m doing, my hand balls into a fist and careens straight through the gyprock. Even though it’s a good few feet away from Jacinta, when I pull my arm back, I find her crouched down beside me, cradling her head in her hands, shielding herself from me. It’s only then I realise I’ve fucked up.
“Babe,” I say, reaching for her, but when she flinches, I take a step back. Does she not realise that I’d never hurt her? That I’m not my father, or hers for that matter? My outburst is purely a coping mechanism I’ve developed over the years … a way to expel all the fury swirling around inside me.
She springs to her feet, so I reach for her again. “Don’t.”
“Red,” I plead, when she turns and starts walking towards the front door. “Please, I’m sorry.”
