Who? Hemingway, Abi & Charlie Where? Abi's apartment When? Yesterday, late afternoon What? Kids and fish Rating? Lowish Open? No
It had been a fantastic day so far. Coming across his own boat from Key West was fantastic alone, but then spending the time with Charlie had been the icing on the delicious cake. As much as he hated for Abi to be ill, it really had meant that he and Charlie had been forced to get to know one another one-on-one. That dull pain he had only just started to notice, the ache where his children were meant to be- Charlie was soothing him, giving him purpose and somewhere to put that lost love. He wasn't his biological father - but he'd be his daddy.
He'd be a little nervous of doing something wrong, of hurting him or upsetting him, but he'd quickly found that he took to it like fatherhood- he'd fussed over wrapping him up in Greg's old lifevest, covering him in sunscreen, keeping him hydrated and happy. And when he had cried about the caught fish, he'd talked to him, explained that if they caught one, they could have them for dinner. That it was the same as fish fingers. He'd expected the confusion and the tears, and like with his own boys, he'd not talked down to him. He'd told him the truth. And confirmed that they wouldn't eat his pet fish. And eventually, Charlie had snuffled and nodded and understood, and there was the look of surprise and amazement with every fish that came splashing out of the ocean. Clapping and chants of "fiss-fiss!" that took him right back to the fair.
He should have been exhausted by now, but there was a little energy left for the kid to wriggle free from his arms the second they got through the door, running to find Abi.
"Mama! Mama! We got fiss!" he was shouting, bouncing into her arms, all sandy and salty and rosy cheeked.
"Hey," Ernest grinned at her, following closely behind.