[19:39] Do you know what happened to the rubber duck?

[19:40] Huh?

[19:40] James is crying. Says he won’t take a bath without it.

[19:41] Is it not in the drawer?

[19:42] I’ve checked every drawer in this house, Snow.

[19;42] It’s nowhere to be found.

After another second I feel my phone vibrate. I look down to read his response but see that it’s a phone call instead.

“Please, I just want to put him to bed. But he’s covered in mud and won’t get into the tub,” I say as soon as I press the answer button.

“Er,” Snow mutters.

A pause follows. All I can hear is the clinking together of two blocks as James plays in the living room.

“Snow, if you did something to this fucking duck I will-”

“I didn’t do anything!” He interrupts. “It just- maybe- got flushed down the toilet.”

Silence. A moment passes where I don’t even hear Snow’s breath.

(He must be holding it, nervous for whatever is to come.)

I remember two nights ago, Simon spending too long in the bathroom. I heard the plunger and repeated flushing.

I assumed…

“Snow-”

“I’m leaving work now,” he says. “I’ve got a replacement already in hand. Be home in twenty.”

I hear him hit the end button.

Bloody coward.

I walk back to the living room to see James stacking cubes on top of each other, trying to make a tower.

That’s when I get an idea.

(And Simon is going to hate it.)

____________________________

“Home!” Simon shouts from the other room.

James and I are in the bathroom. I’m sitting on the toilet, watching as he picks bubbles up and makes a beard on his chin.

We are loads better than we were about fifteen minutes ago.

“In here!” I shout, watching James sink under the water.

Simon walks in, panting, with a rubber duck in his hand.

It’s the typical kind. Yellow and small, but with one small detail.

Sunglasses.

I raise an eyebrow and look up at Simon.

He shrugs.

“It was the only kind the store had,” he replies, putting it on the water. “Where’s James?”

I look back to the water, waiting for the inevitable.

A moment passes before James jumps up and screams.

Simon jumps back, laughing, pretending to be scared.

“Woah there,” he says, kneeling next to the tub, pushing some of his hair back.

James has my hair. Black and long.

(Absolutely gorgeous, too.)

But he has Simon’s freckles. They fit him so well.

Simon looks up at me, an obvious question clear on his face.

How’d you get him into the tub?

I look back down, waiting for the realization to hit.

If there is one thing James loves more than his rubber duck, it’s…

“Dada!” He shouts. “Look!”

He lifts the gaming controller up from the water and pretends he is driving a car.

Simon, ever the good sport, smiles at James, then looks over at me.

“Oh, that’s great,” he says.

I shrug in return, giving him a taste of his own medicine, and then stand up from the toilet.

“Well, I’m going to get ready for bed,” I say, walking to the bedroom.

As I walk down the hall, I hear Simon pleading for his controller.

(Fat chance, Snow.)