‘Foam’ by Alison Stevenson

Mark had been living at the Deerhorn Longstay Suites for a month. His place included a kitchenette, a Formica table with its fake wood-grain worn off in places, two dining chairs, and a plaid sofa that smelled of upholstery cleaner. At least it was clean. It was not the kind of accommodation he would have chosen for a vacation or a business trip. But in the circumstances it had seemed like the best option. And anyway, it was only temporary.

He’d never bring Alistair there — he’d wait until he had a proper place. Or maybe there was still a chance it wouldn’t come to that. Instead, when it was his turn to have Alistair, they’d go to the kinds of places an eight-year-old would want to go to: a Jays game, the dinosaurs at the museum, an indoor skateboard park where, from a second-floor viewing area, Mark watched his son navigate various obstacles and inclines for an hour or so. Then Swiss Chalet for dinner before Mark dropped him back at home. 

Hard to believe a month had passed since the call from Saundra telling him not to come back to the house when he got back from his business trip — that he should find somewhere else to stay. “I’m sure that won’t be a problem for you.” 

Mark heard the air quotes around ‘business trip’. He hadn’t needed to ask what she was talking about. He thought about asking, but he’d played that card before. Mark didn’t want to make her say it, and he didn’t want to hear her say it again. “I’m sorry — ”

“No, don’t, just…don’t.”