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The Uninvited

The Uninvited

The Uninvited

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I hug him. ‘OK. It’s OK, Freddy K. Wedon’t have to talk about it.’We do, of course. If not now, thensometime soon. He buries his face in mystomach, his body still racked with sobs.But when he pulls away after a fewmoments, he’s smiling.‘Oom not whooshing moi hoor! Ooomnot whooshing oot, oom not whooshingoot!’‘Well I’m glad you stopped crying,Freddy K.’He frowns. ‘I wasn’t crying. What areyou talking about?’‘You were crying, Freddy K.’ I lift himup, show him his face in the mirror andpoint out the tear tracks. <strong>The</strong>y’re stillglistening. ‘See? We were talking aboutMum.’ I sit him down on the tiled surface

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