He lies in wait. It is not night but a bright day in late August, the kind of long summer day that seems like it’ll never end. Being out in daylight is alien, but needs must. He watches the back garden from the bushes. There is not a hint of breeze and in the costume he is stifling. A paddling pool is in the centre of a messy lawn, a tricycle is turned sideways. The patio doors at the back of the house are open, and yet the place appears deserted.
It is time to move.
Slowly, he emerges from the bushes. Over to the patio doors. A kitchen lies beyond. Not as neat as he’d like to see, but kitchens become this way when true life is being lived. His ears prick up. There is a rustling in the hallway. Quiet voices chatter, a flash of movement. Immediately he gives chase. His costume, honed over many years, is light and mobility is easy.
Out in the hallway he sees a trailing leg disappear into the living room. But he knows the layout of this house. Next to the kitchen, through a set of double doors, is a dining room. The house is a loop and he can cut them off coming the other way.
It all happens so fast.
‘Baaaa!’ he shouts.
The evil twins scream, turn, and run the other way. No need to give chase. Notorious trouble-makers, the twins, but not the brightest. He waits behind the double doors and, soon enough, they run in. And just as they do, he pounces, tackling them both to the ground.
‘Got you!’
They scream and thrash but it is no good. They cannot escape his superhuman strength. Because they are only four.
‘Get off, Dad!’ calls the boy, though he is laughing.
‘This is no laughing matter. I’m taking you both to jail.’
‘No!’ the girl squeals. ‘Please, Phantasm.’
‘Jail. For first-degree ice cream theft.’
‘But you gave us the ice cream.’
‘The law says you may not eat ice cream until after your dinner.’
‘It’s not fair,’ they say in unison, something that happens a lot.
‘I was testing you. And you failed.’
They all stop. The sound of a car pulling into the driveway.
‘Let’s hide and jump out on her!’
It is a great plan from the boy.
‘Let’s hide in the garden and throw her in the pool,’ says the girl.
Funny. These kids are funny. His pride swells. The key is in the latch. The paddling pool idea will have to wait. They all scurry into the living room and each twin grabs one of their father’s legs, and he can feel their body warmth. The front door opens and in the mirror at the end of the hallway he watches her come into the house, carrying a shopping bag in one hand, pushing her glasses up her nose with the other. Her hair falls across her face and she blows it away.
He calls her his sidekick. But she says it’s the other way round.
She sees him in the mirror and stops. He puts his finger to his lips, and she smiles. When she does this, the door swings wider and a thick sunbeam falls across her; he feels it burn hard into his memory and, for some reason, today, thoughts of the intervening years stream through his mind in one mass, the good times and the bad, the tough and the not so tough, all the peaks and troughs a life through the world must take, the highs and lows and ebbs and flows. He loves so much the way her skin crinkles at the corner of her eyes when she smiles now, each crease a disappointment, every line a joy. Slowly she moves down the hallway.
He’s patrolling tonight but it’s his turn to cook. Sausage, beans and chips. The kids love it (and so does he). She’ll tell him about her day, he’ll tell her about his. Mr Okamatsu is over from Japan and he’s coming to the twins’ fifth birthday party on Saturday. Probably Denny was late for his shift at the library today, she’ll say, meaning Sarah had to go on lunch late again. As she tells him this, there will be a moment, just a small moment, when her words fall away and he will see her for all that she is, this incredible force of life that puts an excitement in him every day, because he is lucky, in a way, gifted a unique perspective where he is able to perceive how good life is. Then the moment will fall away again, her words will come back in, and she’ll tell him to be careful tonight and come home safe.
The Phantasm looks down at the twins, who look back up at him. He holds up three fingers.
A countdown.
Three.
He folds down one finger.
Two.
They stifle laughter, and it’s like a friendly ghost passing through him when he sees their faces illuminated like this. A little quake of the heart. It is such a beautiful day today.
One . . .