Dominic’s out in the garden again. He could at least have stayed at the table for a while. But when he saw her face, that expression, the one that says, Please Dom, can we talk, he got up and said he needed to see how his new azaleas were doing. He’s been nursing them along, keeping the mulch around their shallow roots moist, worried that they’ll dry out in the summer heat.
It’s not like he hasn’t tried to listen when Kate says they need to talk.
But it’s the same worries and questions over and over. When he looks at her and says, ‘Pardon?’ and her face takes on that look, Dominic feels something close to rage growing inside him. What does she want him to say? To do? It’s not as if talking is going to solve any problems.
The best is to hand Noah over to the experts, they’ve had success with his sort of disorder, said Ms Wet-behind-the-ears, almost-young-enough-to-be-his-daughter Turner.
Isn’t that enough? He can’t delve like Kate does, deep into Noah’s life, into their treatment of him, deeper and deeper and deeper. What he actually wants to say is, Kate, enough. We’ve found him the type of help he needs. It’s down to him, not us, now.
Hard and cruel, he knows. But true. He’s grateful that his son is no longer in the house, cordoned off behind his self-imposed rules and routines.
Dominic remembers the session they had with Ms Turner, Kate’s gratitude, the way she hung on the therapist’s every word. He feels again the spurt of resentment at the suggestion about the ‘good times’ exercise, the way Kate smiled so readily at the idea. Why couldn’t she tell the truth? Why couldn’t she just say, ‘Sorry Ms T, no can do.’ No, instead she’d nodded her head, beamed and said, ‘Isn’t that a good idea, Dom?’
He had gathered all his love for her into his answer. But even then, his response was grudging. ‘We’ll try.’
Dominic ought to rinse his hands at the garden tap, go inside, hug his wife close and say, ‘Don’t worry darling, he’ll be fine.’ But he can’t. If he breaks his silence about this, he might say terrible things. He might say, ‘I hope they manage to sort him out, Kate. I hope he comes home and all of this weirdness is over.’