Flo stared at the computer screen.
“Whatcha doing, Grandma? Playing Minecraft?” Alex was lying on the bed in Charlie’s old room, where he’d now been sleeping for more than two months. The things in the room were still mostly Charlie’s, but Alex had started adding items of his own. Rocks and shells from the beach, acorns and pinecones, and a postcard of the CN Tower from his mother were now scattered in between Charlie’s baseballs and Hardy Boys mysteries on the bookshelf.
“No, I’m going to the bank, if you can believe it.” Flo was slowly getting the hang of her new computer, but today she must have made a mistake. She yawned and rubbed her eyes. As much as she loved Alex, caring for him tired her out.
Maybe that had led to a careless banking error. Her and Tinker’s bank balance was lower than it had ever been. “This is how people manage their money these days.” Flo clicked on the refresh button to see if a new number would appear in the bank balance. It did not. “Do you have a bank account?”
“I don’t think so. One of Mommy’s boyfriends gave me ten dollars once, but later Mommy made me give it back to her when we needed milk. Want to play Snakes and Ladders?” Alex grabbed the game from the floor.
Flo had a hard time saying no to him. “You bet I do. Why don’t you set it up on the kitchen table and I’ll be right down.” She did some mental math. Courtney and Alex’s flights, their party, half of Nell’s plane ticket to Alberta, this computer, and higher-than-normal grocery bills had added up—and then there were the secret payments to Charlie. Goodness. The low balance was correct. Tinker would pitch a fit. They lived on a fixed income and couldn’t spend extra without consequences. She turned off the computer.
Alex was rolling the dice as soon as she entered the kitchen. “Nine,” Alex said, rolling a four and a five and sliding his blue player over nine squares. He landed at the bottom of a ladder. “Up up up up up up I go.”
Flo loved hearing him chatter. He was opening up more and more every day. “How will I ever catch up?” she said, grabbing the dice. “Help me add those dots up, now. How many squares should I move?”
“Five plus six equals eleven,” Alex answered automatically. “Haha, you’re about to land on a snake already.” He knew the board by heart. “Can I have a snack?”
Flo went to the fridge and grabbed a block of hard cheddar and an apple. She chose a paring knife from the drawer and began slicing both.
“Grandma, is Mommy ever coming back for me? I miss her.”
Flo looked at the knife in her hand and wondered if stabbing herself in the heart with it would be any less painful then coming up with more excuses for Courtney’s prolonged absence. She gingerly placed it on the counter and took the plated snacks to Alex.
“Of course she is. Her work’s been really busy, that’s all. She’s been taking extra shifts at the clinic. Aren’t you happy she’s helping all those sick animals?”
“I guess. I just wish Mommy were here too. Like when I first got here. That was my favourite time.” Alex chewed as he talked. “Everyone all together.” Apple spittle flew from his mouth and Flo saw masticated orange cheese in his baby teeth. It was adorable.
Tinker walked through the front door, removed his overcoat and boots, and entered the kitchen. “Hello, family,” he said, nodding at Flo and laying his hand briefly on Alex’s spiky hair. “Is there tea on?” He laid a newspaper on the table next to Alex as Flo rose to plug in the kettle.
Alex slid the newspaper toward himself and stared at it. His mouth started moving. He pointed at the headline. “What’s that word?”
“Ceasefire,” Tinker answered, his mind on the cup of tea he craved.
“Ceasefire fails in…S….S…S…What’s that word?” Alex asked, pointing.
“Syria.”
“Ceasefire fails in Syria as war ra-ra-rages on,” Alex read aloud.
Flo and Tinker stared at one another. Flo had been reading Dr. Seuss board books with Alex at bedtime, but this level of literacy was beyond rote memorization of Green Eggs and Ham. “How’d you do that?” she asked.
“I sounded it out, just like you taught me. What’s a ceasefire? Is it like a bonfire? Do you roast marshmallows?” Alex was staring at a picture of a bombed-out building. The caption said it had been a hospital in northern Syria.
“No,” Tinker replied, sliding the newspaper across the table where Alex couldn’t read any further. “It’s when soldiers stop fighting.”
“Oh. So they did or they didn’t stop fighting?”
“Didn’t.”
“They kept on fighting? Why?”
“Why indeed,” Flo said. “There’s a war happening in Syria. It’s hard to explain, sweetie. The good news is that we live in Canada, far, far away from that war. Go get the globe and I’ll show you how far.” She placed a cup of tea in front of Tinker and a juice box in front of Alex’s seat, then grabbed her own seat at the table.
Alex retrieved the globe from the den and Flo showed him where they lived, how close by his mom was in Toronto, and how far Syria was. “That’s good. But I’m still sad for the people who live in Syria. Are there kids there, too?” Alex poked the straw far into his apple juice. Juice arced out onto his Batman shirt.
“Only the soldiers fight, Alex. They’re all grown-ups. No kids are hurt,” Tinker said. The newspaper was telling a different story, but why fill Alex’s small head with worry about people half a world away intent on killing one another? Besides, those people weren’t like them. Tinker had never known a Muslim, and the ones he saw on the news didn’t seem worth getting to know. Bombing hospitals, for Christ’s sake.
“But maybe some of the soldiers have kids? Maybe their dads get blown up just like my dad was blown up. That would be sad.” With one long, slow suck Alex finished his juice box. “I hate ’splosions. Want to finish our game, Grandma?”
Flo grabbed the tissue she had wedged underneath the cuff of her sweater and used it to dab the corner of her eyes. “Sure, honey. It’s your turn.” She slid the dice toward Alex while Tinker blew on his tea.