“I know,” said Graham. “I was there too, remember?”

  “I want to be just like him when I grow up.”

  And then the belt clicked into place.

  “That’s nice, son.”

  “His car is much better than your car, dad.”

  “Is it?”

  Graham drove away at a snail’s pace; the fastest the car could handle. Anything over forty and the engine hissed and rattled, making the car jerk around like an amusement park ride. The oil light was always on, the handbrake didn’t work, and the back seats were stained with yoghurt and melted gummy bears. It wasn’t fancy but it got him from A to B – most of the time.

  “Max’s mum and dad are rich. They live in a big house with a swimming pool, and a playground, and servants, and a pool table, and a trampoline, and a….”

  Graham’s headaches had returned recently. They were worse than ever before.

  “…..and a horse, and a helicopter, and another swimming pool, and a hundred TVs, and a million computer games, and the new Transformer, and…”

  The pain would pass; it always did.

  “He even has a TV in his room.”

  “Good for Max.”

  “Can I have a TV in my room?”

  “No.”

  Graham wiped the sweat from his forehead and cleared his throat. In the back seat, his son rattled off the thousand and one toys he wanted for Christmas or his birthday or if one day they ever became rich. All the while, Graham stared at the red lights on his dashboard and at the tufts of hair that poked out from his poorly fitted shirt.

  Neither he nor the car had aged well.

  “Are we poor?”

  “What?” shouted Graham, as if the thought alone were as offensive as it was absurd – just as it was probably true. “No,” he said, “we’re not poor. Who the hell told you that?”

  “Mum.”

  “Your mother? Why would she tell you something like that?”

  “I heard her talking to grandma.”

  “Your grandma’s old. She’s out of it. She wouldn’t know what she’s talking about. What did they say?”

  “Mum said there’s never any money for bills and that she’s sick of being poor.”

  “She did now, did she?”

  “It’s ok if we’re poor, dad.”

  “We’re not poor.”

  “I know, but it’s ok even if we are.”

  “We’re not bloody well poor, ok? Get that rubbish out of your head.”

  “If you are, though, you should just go to the bank. They give money to people there. You just tell them you don’t have any and they give you some.”

  “Oh yeah? It’s that easy is it?”

  “Yep,” said the boy, matter-of-factly. “You didn’t know?”

  “I guess not.”

  “You should just do that; that way we wouldn’t be poor anymore and grandma wouldn’t have to give us money.”

  The thought of his mother in law licking her finger as she counted out note by shameful note made him sick in the stomach. He knew every word of the lecture that would have followed as she stepped from her high horse right onto her pulpit; one built on the backs of every penny she had ever lent. She was the kind of woman who gave gifts only so she could collect the thanks and appreciation of others as leverage to hold against them in the future.

  So Graham chewed on his cheeks and curdled the rage in his belly. What else could he do? For the moment he had a job that brought him honour and prestige, but what could he buy with that? Both were currencies that were traded only amongst his peers and all they could buy was respect or ridicule; pride or envy.

  Beside him, on the passenger seat, sat a folder with a handful of papers that were meant to be handed out to all the kids in the class. Inside were pictures of gargantuan machines that looked like something from a space odyssey; the children’s minds should have blown right open. That alone should have won them over, if, as it had turned out, that his speech had not. There were scans of brains that looked like - proof that aliens existed. They would have screamed with delight and hung them on their walls and stuck them to the front covers of their science books. And finally, there were dozens of Fourier graphs. They weren’t as interesting, but still, this folder had taken him weeks to prepare. In the end, all the children really wanted was to try on a couple of stupid hats and pretend to be cops and cowboys.

  Why the hell didn’t anyone care as much as he did?

  “I think I want to be a policeman,” said Nathan. “Pedro’s dad is a policeman and he said his car has a siren that he uses when he chases villains. And he also has a gun like Iron Man. That would be really cool. I could save the world and have a siren.”

  “And what about being a scientist like your dad?”

  “Science is boring. I want to be a policeman. Their job is more fun. You get to shoot all the bad guys and be a hero;”

  “Scientists are heroes too, you know? Who do you think invented all those things? What about Iron Man? He’s a scientist too.”

  “Yeah but I only like it when he’s blowing everything up.”

  “Of course you do.”

  Graham stared at the red lights on the dashboard, then at his bulging stomach, and then finally at the file full of papers. He looked exactly like he felt – flabbergasted. Then he let out a loud and exacerbated sigh, but one that brought him no relief.

  “Everyone wants to be Pedro’s friend now.”

  The boy sounded sad as if his ice-cream had just melted.

  “Oh yeah?”

  “It’s because his dad is cooler than all the other dads.”

  “Lucky Pedro.”

  “No-one wants to be my friend.”

  The boy sulked the rest of the way home as if everything in the world were his father’s fault: having to do homework, not having a TV in his room, being poor, not having friends, and probably global warming too – even though his teacher said that probably there was no such thing.

  The car rattled and coughed as it stopped at the verge.

  “Alright, son, Get your sister.”

  “Why?”

  He hoped the answer was candy.

  “Just get her.”

  “Are we going somewhere?”

  “Yes.”

  “Where?”

  “Somewhere. Just grab your sister. I don’t have all day. We gotta be quick.”

  “Is there candy there?”

  “Maybe. Just grab your sister, please.”

  “Isabel,” screamed the young boy in delight.

  He could barely muster another syllable.

  “Is-aaaaaa-bellllllllllllll.”

  “What?” screamed Isabel, the contempt in her voice, impossible to excuse.

  “Dad wants youuuuuuuuuuuuuu.”

  “Tell him I’m busy,” screamed Isabel.

  “It’s importaaaaaaaaaaaaaaant,” shouted Nathan.

  “I don’t care.”

  “Candyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy.”

  “I’m coming,” shouted Isabel.

  No matter what she was doing, nothing was as important as candy.

  “Nathan said you got candy,” she said, sliding into the car door. “Is that true?”

  “Hello to you too.”

  “Hi, dad. Love you. Missed you. So… is it?”

  “Hop in.”

  The two kids squealed as they jumped in the car.

  “We have to run an errand and then if I have enough, I’ll get you both something – but something small, ok?”

  “Where are we going, dad?”

  Isabel was the oldest of the two; only by a couple of years but she acted as if it was twice that. She may have asked the question a hundred times, but she did so considerably as if she knew that each time was like a pin in her father’s soft and impatient ear.

  “The mall.”

  “Yes,” shouted Isabel. “You’re the best dad ever.”

  “Like I said, we’re just running a quick errand. We get your socks and that’s it. In and out. Super-fast.”

  “And we can get some candy, right?”

  “If there’s enough money left over, yes.”

  “Cool.”

  “I wanna go on the rides,” shouted Nathan. “Can we go on them, if they have them?”

  His excitement bordered on insanity. He wriggled, not only in his seat but in his skin and bones too; his fingers clenched and his eyes charged. The boy was an explosive device. Graham knew this so he chose his words fittingly, careful to cut the right cord.

  “Yeah, maybe, I don’t know, no, maybe.”

  “Can we have an ice-cream?”

  “Maybe.”

  “I want a giant balloon,” shouted Nathan flopping around in his seat. “One that will go up to the sky if you let it go. But I promise, dad, I won’t let it go.”

  The stress was already starting to build. It gathered in a gyrating clump between Graham’s eyes. He tried to remain inconspicuous but by the time they parked, the constant twitching in his right pinkie had become a dead give-away.

  “Are you mad?” asked Isabel.

  “No,” said Graham.

  “You sure?”

  “Yes, I’m sure.”

  “You look mad.”

  “No, I am not mad,” said Graham, enunciating every syllable without any inflection whatsoever. “Look,” he said, kneeling down to look both kids in the eyes. “I need to make this clear before we go inside.”

  His expression said, ‘Expect nothing’.

  “What are we here for?” he asked.

  “Socks,” said Isabel.

  “Giant balloons,” shouted Nathan, jumping around again as if gravity were not a thing.

  “Socks,” said Graham. “We are here for socks. Socks and only socks. I have exactly the money for two pairs of socks. I don’t have money for anything else, only socks. Understood?”

  “Yep,” both kids said.

  “Ok, so just to confirm. What are we here for?”

  “Socks,” said Isabel smiling.

  “Good girl,” said Graham.

  “Giant balloons,” screamed Nathan, knowing too well that wasn’t what they were here for, but convincing himself more and more each time that it was.

  “It’s ok,” said Isabel, taking her father’s hand. “I don’t want anything. I know we don’t have money. The balloons just pop anyway. And besides, the people who make those games and rides are just trying to steal our money. They say it’s fun, but really it’s just a trick to fool us,” she said. “It’s a paradox.”

  Graham had once explained what a paradox was, having witnessed his young girl mystified by an unexpected and sheer absurd occurrence. From that point on, everything was a paradox. If there were clouds outside but the weather report said it was supposed to be sunny, it was a paradox. If there was no cheese in the fridge and she had thought that there was, that too was a paradox. And she looked so proud whenever she said it as if she were privy to wisdom and insight meant only for grown-ups; and not any old grown-up too – only the smart ones like her dad.

  “Look, you guys know if I could I would buy you every toy, every ice-cream, and let you go on every ride, right?”

  “I know, dad. It’s ok. I’m just glad we finally get to spend some time with you and at the mall too – probably the best place in the world; except for the park of course and the beach, and buffets – they have so many fun rides, and the cinema – but the cinema is inside the mall so…”

  Her eyes lit up.

  “Woah, that’s a paradox,” she said.

  “Yes,” said Graham, mildly delirious. “It’s a paradox.”

  Then he dragged his heavy out-of-shape body upright again.

  “Ok, so we’re in and out, as quick as possible. Next time, I promise, when I have money, I’ll get you guys an ice-cream or something.”

  “Can it be a soft serve?” asked Isabel, preparing her expectations.

  “If that’s what you want,” said Graham breathing a sigh of relief.

  “Definitely. I’m gonna get passionfruit and strawberry and mint and….”

  “Pretty sure they only do vanilla or chocolate.”

  “Oh,” said Isabel a little disappointed. “Well, that’s ok then. I’ll have vanilla.”

  “Ok, good,” said Graham realizing he had dodged a bullet.

  “Hey Nathan,” said Isabel. “What ice-cream are you gonna get?”

  “We can get ice-cream,” shouted Nathan, jumping in glee. “Yay, ice-cream, ice-cream, ice-cream.”

  He should have bought the socks online.

  Getting from A to B was no easy feat. The department store was on the far side of the mall and between here and there, he would have to pass a dozen stands selling everything from bubble-gum to teddy bears and at least half a dozen toy stores with flashing lights and inflatable dinosaurs out front - all of them impossible to miss. If he could survive the first then he would, at the very least, have some kind of leverage for the rest.

  “Toy store,” both kids shouted. “Can we? Can we? Can we? Can we?”

  “I can’t,” said Graham.

  His face was shaped like a grazed knee.

  “Maybe next time. I’m serious; we have to be super quick. Plus if we go in, your brother is gonna want to get something and then there’ll be a tantrum and….I don’t have the money to buy anything at all.”

  “I know,” said Isabel. “We’re poor.”

  “We’re not poor,” said Graham defensively. “We just don’t have money. It’s different.”

  Before he could even gather his senses, Nathan ran into the toy store and in the time it took for Graham to curse, Nathan had already found the toy that was the best toy ever invented and in that brief instant, he had convinced himself that if he didn’t get it now he would never get another chance again.

  “Please, dad,” he said, running towards the door with an enormous box in his hands. “It’s the best toy ever invented. Check it out,” he said, flipping the box over to show the instructions on its back. “It has all these weapons and you can transform it into a car and a truck and a plane and a dinosaur.”

  “They’re four different Transformers, son.”

  “It has four Transformers? Woah.”

  “No, it’s advertising. There’s just one in the box but it doesn’t matter, I told you, I don’t have the money to buy a toy.”

  “Oh please, dad, please. I promise I’ll never ask for another thing.”

  “It’s too expensive.”

  Already it was clear what was about to happen. The ground was about to rumble and split in two. And from the centre of the Earth, a fire-spitting magma monster was about to burst out and completely possess his cute little boy so that he became scorned, enraged, and demented – a creature from a nether world that was as impossible to reason with as it was to please.

  “Fuck it,” said Graham taking the box. “How much is it?”

  The attendant zapped the box.

  “That’s six hundred and ninety-four dollars,” she said.

  “Fuck me, are you sure?”

  “That’s what it says on the computer, sir.”

  “That can’t be right, can it?”

  The Attendant just stood there with the same stupid grin on his face.

  “They’re small enough to fit in a gumball machine. And they’re plastic. I mean, isn’t oil cheap? What the fuck? Right?”

  “So...” said The Attendant as if none of that had transpired. ‘Shall I wrap it up?”.

  His face was shaped like a fried egg.

  “Yes, please, dad, wrap it up. Unwrapping’s the best part. It’s like a surprise.”

  “But you know what’s inside?”

  “And that’s the surprise.”

  “It’s like a paradox,” said Isabel.

  “It’s not a paradox, Isa. It’s a….”

  His head was about to explode.

  ‘No, it is, dad. He knows what’s inside but somehow it’s still a surprise. It’s a paradox.”

  “That’s not what…. Ok it is but… It’s not a surprise if he knows what’s inside and… Look it doesn’t matter. I don’t have seven hundred dollars for a couple of shitty plastic toys.’

  “You shouldn’t swear, dad.”

  ‘I know.”

  “Don’t worry,” said Isabel. “I won’t tell mum.”

  Her face was shaped like a fulcrum.

  “It can be our secret.”

  “Look, I can’t afford it.”

  “Please, Dad, please, dad, please, dad. It’ll be the best present ever. It’s the best toy. It’s better than all the other toys and it has these things on it that are like guns and I think they’re like rockets and you can stick them on the…..”

  “Look,” said Graham. “Is there any cheaper one?”

  “No, dad,” screamed Nathan. “It has to be this one.”

  The Attendant was still there with that one learned expression.

  “We can’t son,” said Graham. “Not right now.”

  “Dad doesn’t have any money,” said Isabel.

  “That’s not what I said,”

  Graham could feel The Attendant judging and smirking.

  “Yes you did,” said Isabel. “You said you didn’t have any money.”

  “That’s not what I said,” said Graham. “I said, I didn’t have money to spend on toys. It’s different.”

  He was speaking to Isabel but the context was meant for The Attendant.

  “Next time,” he said. “I promise.”

  “If you want, you can do it in up to twenty-four instalments, no interest,” said The Attendant. “If you don’t have the money.”

  “Who said I don’t have the money?”

  All of a sudden the discussion had become less about a toy and more about his masculinity. What kind of man was he if he couldn’t provide for his children? He knew exactly what kind of man he was.

  “It’s nothing to be ashamed about. Lots of families have difficulty buying things outright. It doesn’t make you a bad father.”

  “Fine,” said Graham, his face as mean as a fistful of bloody knuckles.

  “So you’ll take it.”

  “Yeah. Whatever. Wrap it up,” said Graham. “Before I change my bloody mind.”

  “Yay, daddy, I love you. You’re the best. This is the best day ever. Transformers are the….”

  “That’s not fair,” said Isabel. “He got a toy; I want one too.”