Good Morning, My Love

“Good morning, love.”

“Good morning, love.”

He woke, as always, a minute before the alarm. A habit left over from his army days. Rolling from bed onto the floor, he did a few push-ups without opening his eyes. Blood hummed pleasantly, chasing the last traces of sleep.

“Ill go wake the lads, Ellie.”

The “lads” were his ten-year-old twins, asleep in the next roomtwo smaller versions of himself, mouths slightly open as if sharing the same dream.

The heating had sputtered all night, so he hadnt risked their morning run, letting them sleep a little longer. He lingered, admiring the sturdy frames of his boys. At their age, hed been the oppositescrawny, awkward, hunched. Timid, which his peers mistook for cowardice. Schoolwork came easy; the taunts of classmates did not. He never fought backknew he was weaker. On the sports field, he tried his hardest, but the PE teachers jeers crushed his spirit.

As for joining a sports club, his mother had been firm:

“I didnt raise a clever, bookish boy just for him to go around breaking noses.”

Timidity held him back there too, and the dream of strength lost another round. His mother rarely showed such steelmostly, she smothered him in care, tenderness. It was that very smothering hed fled after school, joining the army. Two years later, he returnedlean, disciplined, a promising athlete. The timid, bookish boy had become a solid contender for regional boxing titles. To his mothers dismay (and his sports colleges delight), he chose to pursue it.

University opened a new lifecompetitions, dormitories, friends. And a new problem: girls. Boxing victories didnt erase his shyness. Asking one out at twenty felt no easier than at ten. Until *she* appeared.

Ellie was the colleges rising stara champion diver, slender, fair-haired, with green eyes. Clever, smiling, but quiet, as if half in another world. They called her “The Alien.” They became friends instantly.

Together, they were at ease. Hours passed in comfortable silence. They cheered each other at matches. After their first kiss, he proposed immediately.

“The Wedding of the Martians,” their course called it. Everyone loved them for their gentleness, their openness.

A year later, Ellie took leavepregnant. He started evenings at Kings Cross, working as a porter. Oddly, it was then he first *felt* strong. Not from lifting crates, but from knowinghe could provide. He *would*.

Ellie fretted, but the doctor reassured her.

“Ive only one upsetting fact: if you dont like children, its twice as badyoure having twins.”

At night, they dreamed aloud. The children theyd raise, the years ahead, the seaside home theyd buy But night is for dreaming.

On the eve of the birth, she gripped his hand.

“Promise me,” she whispered, “no matter what happens, you wont leave them.”

He nearly bristled. Then he saw her eyes, and simply nodded.

The labour was long, difficult. She faded in and out for hours. The doctors couldnt stop the bleeding. By the time they knew why, it was too late.

That night was a blur. He woke at dawn on Kings Cross station floor, sick, head pounding. The drink still fogged his veinsbut one thought sobered him: two were waiting.

He graduated well, but quit competitions. The sports board gave him a flat, where he raised the “lads.” His mother helped at first. Then the boys grew, and it was just the three of them. He coached at local clubs, but once they started school, he joined as their PE teacher. Still worked evenings at Kings Crossno teachers wage could suffice. These days, he supervised; no more hauling.

Life settled. But inside, the weight never lifted. He longed to speak, yet without Ellie, he felt mute.

Friends tried setting him up. He never lasted an hour. One woman had Ellies glance, another her way of tucking hair

So he talked to her at night. At first, it angered himwords to air, not to her. Then he grew used to it. Last night, the boys had bragged about top marks.

“I told them men dont boast,” he murmured. “And that its a shame *not* to earn top marks. But I was proud. Theyre clever, strong, kind My old army coach said courage is fear without showing it. Im afraid to praise them too muchshow weakness. Ive never even said I love them But they know, dont they, Ellie?”

For a moment, pity nearly broke him. He almost rose to hug them, say the words But it was night. He let them sleep.

The kitchen was chilly. He glanced at the thermometer: minus five. A dry winter. Pity about the snow. Outside, an elderly woman from the flat below swept the courtyard. Was she muttering to herself?

The “lads” burst in. The elderborn five minutes soonerset the kettle. The younger grabbed the pan; breakfast was his turn.

Suddenly, one elbowed the other. Awkwardly, they approached their father, hugged him.

“Dad We know you talk to Mum sometimes. Tell her We dont remember her well, but we love her very much. And you too, Dad.”