[ WP ] The running faucet

`` Can I get in now, Daddy?'' 
 
 The bath has only got a half inch of tepid water in it, but Andrew's keen to get in, his clothes already thrown in a heap against the wall. I check the water temperature just to be sure. 
 
 `` Yeah, it's just right. In you hop.'' 
 
 He lifts one scrawny leg over the side of the bath and pushes up on his toes to give himself enough momentum to get his left leg fully into the bath. This done, he lifts his other leg in, sits down with a splash, and, as with every other night, has a huge piss that clouds the water yellow. I should push him to go before bathtime, but I remember the feeling of doing it myself and do n't want to deny him the pleasure. 
 
 Having emptied his bladder, Andrew looks at the tap that continues to fill the bath. I can sense a question coming. 
 
 `` Daddy?'' 
 
 `` Yes?'' 
 
 `` Daddy. Where does water come from?'' 
 
 Not wanting to explain the water cycle in its entirety - it's been a long day - I go for the safe option. 
 
 `` It comes from the tap.'' 
 
 Andrew smiles and begins emptying water between two plastic cups. I can sense that the he is working out his next question, tracking the water in his mind back into the tap, into the unknown. 
 
 `` But how does it get hot?'' 
 
 `` The boiler heats it up.'' 
 
 `` Yes. When it is loud it is heating the water.'' 
 
 `` That's right.'' 
 
 I pick up the clothes, noticing the grains of rice left on the floor that have hitched a lift upstairs. I check my socks and notice some sticky white splodges where I've already stood in it. I take them off and add them to the washing pile. 
 
 `` Daddy?'' 
 
 `` Yes, Andrew?'' 
 
 `` Nana is dead, is n't she?'' 
 
 `` Mm, hm''. It's been three weeks, and this is the first time Andrew's brought it up since the funeral. 
 
 `` She is in a box in the ground.'' 
 
 I do n't say anything; I suspect my voice might crack, so I opt for a sound that indicates agreement. Andrew looks at me, away from the plastic cups. 
 
 `` Can we play Lego tomorrow?'' 
 
 `` Sure''. I put the clothes in the washing basket and feel the waters of grief lapping round my neck. 
 
 
 

