The Carousel Lies Chapter 03
Author: Quinn Loves Cilantro
My son’s eyes welled up with tears the second he saw me, but I didn’t stop to comfort him. Instead, I scooped him up, my chest tight with excitement, and pressed my mouth close to his ear.
“Mom bought you a present! I saw it myself!”
But there wasn’t a trace of joy on his face. He kept pressing me with questions instead.
“Dad, did someone hurt you? Does it hurt?”
I forced a foolish little smile, swallowing down the ache in my chest.
“Dad’s just clumsy,” I said, feigning embarrassment. “Ran into someone, that’s all.”
His sad little face finally eased.
He opened his mouth like he wanted to say more, but right then the door handle rattled. Jasmine was home.
I perked up instantly, and my son was clearly just as eager, his palm going faintly damp in mine. But the next second, we both froze at the same time. Jasmine had come home empty-handed again.
My heart plunged straight from the clouds to the floor. I glanced quickly at my son.
Disappointment flickered across his face and vanished, but it wasn’t the meltdown from before, and somehow that was worse. My eyes stung, because it meant he’d already stopped expecting anything from his own mother.
I bit back my anger and opened my mouth to say something, but Jasmine pulled me straight into the bedroom.
“Are you all right? Your shoulder looks like it took a hit today.”
She dug out the first-aid kit without waiting for an answer and reached to unbutton my shirt. I brushed her hand away.
“Where’s the toy?” I asked flatly.
Jasmine blinked. “What toy?”
Anger flared up in me, and my voice rose before I could stop it. “The remote control car. For our son. I saw you buy it today!”
Her eyes flickered, and she bit down on her lip, her voice dropping low.
“I lost it by accident. I’ll get him another one tomorrow.”
Tomorrow, again. I fought down a surge of fury, turned, and pushed past her into the bathroom. Worried about the water bill, I rushed through a few-minute shower and toweled off.
My phone buzzed. An unknown number had added me as a contact.
I stared at it for a couple of seconds, then something clicked, and I tapped accept. It was Josh. After adding me, he didn’t send a single message. Something made me check his social media instead.
He’d posted about his day.
[Thanks to the most gorgeous girl in the world for the gifts. Luke and I love them.]
Underneath the caption were a few photos: the remote control car my son had wanted for so long, and a watch in a brand I didn’t recognize.
My mind went blank for a few seconds. I looked up numbly at the cheap shelf in our bathroom, at the razor I’d bought on clearance, the sliver of soap worn down to nothing, and my son’s scuffed, secondhand toys.
Grief crashed over me like a wave. My legs gave out, and I slid down the wall and cried right there on the floor.
I don’t know how long passed before Jasmine seemed to sense something was wrong and knocked on the door.
“Cody, why aren’t you out yet?”
When I didn’t answer, she pushed the door open herself. I walked past her, my face calm.
Jasmine noticed my swollen eyes immediately. She froze for a second, then let out an irritated sigh.
“I’ll buy it tomorrow, all right? It’s just a toy!”
No. It hadn’t been just a toy for a long time. But I didn’t say anything.
At the dinner table, the silence was strange and heavy. Jasmine glanced at me, then at our son, who wasn’t saying a word either. She paused, then set a piece of food onto his plate.
His eyes lit up instantly, his face full of stunned, uncertain delight. It broke my heart. A child who’d never been loved treated the smallest scrap of kindness like a gift from the heavens.
That small gesture gave him the courage to speak. He looked at Jasmine carefully, then said, slow and hesitant, “Mom, tomorrow’s Mother’s Day. The teacher’s holding a contest. Kids bring in crafts they made, and the dads vote. Can you come?”
Jasmine went still. Something about how careful he was being made her think of how confident and easygoing Luke was, and a strange, bitter feeling rose in her. Why was her own son always so timid?
