There's a Rainbow in the Sprinkler

I’m becoming one of them, Matthew realized helplessly, as he listened to Mrs. Faraday’s interminable account of the new pasta range at the supermarket deli.
“Seven different kinds of ravioli!” she was saying. “Restaurant quality. I was really impressed!”
They were sitting on cheap, plastic recliners on the Faraday lawn, watching Ricky, Marcus and Eleanor as they ducked in and out of the sprinkler. Mr. Faraday was burning sausages on the patio.
Matthew was wondering how much longer before Gayle would let him get a word in edgewise. He could then attempt to somehow steer the conversation towards their carpooling arrangement.
“Their cream of mushroom pasta sauce is to die for, and such a help! Mine always ends up lumpy, somehow. Have you ever tried making a cream- based pasta sauce yourself?”
“Try incorporating the flour more carefully.”
“Alice must have taught you that. She was quite the cook! How are you managing without her, dear?” Gayle Faraday possessed the fascinating skill of asking incredibly sensitive and personal questions in an off- handed manner.
“It seems pretty obvious,” he replied pertly. “Which is actually why I’m here. I can’t afford to take any more time off work.”
She looked offended.
“Daddy! Daddy!” Eleanor, dripping and elated, threw herself onto Matthew’s lap.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” said he said quickly. “It’s just… well, its been hard… readjusting.” He was struggling to speak over Eleanor, who was attempting to push his mouth closed with her wet, podgy fingers.
“I understand. So you’d like us to drive Marcus to school from now on?”
“I… Eleanor, stop it!”
She was wriggling out of his grasp. “Daddy,” she repeated urgently.
“If he could also stay here with Ricky after school for a few hours… well, it would make things so much easier. Of course, I’d pay you for petrol and your trouble.”
“Da…ddY!! Daddy! Daddy, daddy, daddy…”
“What is it, Eleanor?” Matthew demanded finally, exasperated.
She gave a lopsided grin. “There’s a rainbow in the sprinkler.”
“It’s quite a lot you’re asking, Matthew. Marcus is a good boy, but it’s an extra mouth to feed, extra responsibilities…”
“Just for an hour or two in the afternoons. And as I’ve said, I’m quite happy to pay you. It’s just that…well, Marcus is friends with Ricky, and he knows the house. It’s bad enough that Eleanor is in daycare. Eleanor, for heaven’s sake!”
She was pinching his face. “Daddy, I told you. There’s a rainbow in the sprinkler. It’s got all the colours.” She began to sing. “Red and yellow and… daddy, are you listening? Red and…”
“I’m not making any promises without discussing this with my husband first.”
“Pink and green!”
“I’d appreciate it if you would, Gayle.”
“Purple and… daddy! Purple and…” Eleanor’s voice was growing higher and more insistent.
“Eleanor!”
“Orange and blue!” she roared finally, before happily trotting off.
Gayle had already made her way onto the balcony, and was talking to her husband in a quiet, hushed tone.

Matthew looked down at his trousers, which were now sopping wet. If the Faradays didn’t do this…well, he didn’t even want to think about it. It wasn’t just about Marcus.

He didn’t want to stay in the house any longer than he had to. It was, after all, theirs—Alice’s and his own. And now that it didn’t belong to her any more, he didn’t want anything to do with either. Eating there, sleeping there, living there— felt like a dream. A horrible dream, and nothing more. Certainly anything but real.

The sun disappeared, and Eleanor began to bawl. “Daddy! Why is it gone?”
Matthew scooped her up. “It’s just hiding behind a cloud, Eleanor. It’ll be back again soon.”
“Not the sun, daddy! The rainbow! Where did it go?” she demanded.
Matthew, listening to her wholly for the first time that day, realized what she meant. But he didn’t feel like explaining the spectrum of colours to a four year old. “The rainbow comes with the sunlight, sweetheart. When sunlight shines on water, you see a rainbow,”
“So where is it now?”
“It’s not anywhere,” he said absently.
Eleanor considered this. “How can something not be anywhere?”
“I don’t know,” he said despairingly. “Go and play.”
“Kids!” Gayle called from the patio. “Come and grab a sausage sandwich!” She paused and smiled at Matthew. “Make sure Marcus is ready to go at eight- thirty, Monday morning. We don’t want to be late.”

***

The younger ones were on the floor of the playroom, watching the Disney channel.
Matthew was managing to participate in the light- hearted, idle suburban chit- chat that he found so painfully boring.
“What did you think?” Jim was saying. “Not a bad bottle of red. Great with those sausages.”
Matthew resisted the urge to point out that the sausages were so charred he couldn’t taste them anyway. “It was lovely— today was lovely,” he said politely. “And I can’t tell you enough how grateful I am to you both. Your help means so much… I don’t think we could get by without it.”
“It’s our pleasure, Matthew. Our qualms were never with Marcus; he’s a very well- behaved child…”
“Of course,” added Jim, finishing Gayle’s thoughts just as Matthew used to finish Alice’s. “It’s just that we take our responsibilities seriously.”
“Absolutely.” Matthew stood to leave. “Thank you so much, again.” He shook Jim’s hand and gave Gayle a peck on the cheek. “Kids! We’re leaving!”
Eleanor practically flew down the stairs. “Daddy, you were wrong!” She was holding something firmly in both hands.
Matthew sighed heavily. “Wrong about what, sweetheart?”
“About the rainbow! It’s here! I knew it had to be somewhere.” She held up the clear, polished piece of quartz that had been given to Ricky last Christmas. “See?” Her face suddenly contorted with fury. “Where’s mummy, then? She can’t not be anywhere! You were wrong about the rainbow and you’re wrong about her!”
The silence in the room was electric. A four- year old child had rendered three fully- grown adults utterly speechless.
Marcus jumped the stairs two at a time and unwittingly broke the tension.
“We’re leaving, kids,” said Matthew quietly.
Eleanor looked incredulous. “Daddy!”
“I said, we’re leaving!”
His tone of finality spiraled her into a tantrum. She threw herself at her father’s ankles and raged at him in every way she could.
“Get our coats, Marcus,” Matthew ordered. With one arm, he picked up his screaming, writhing daughter. With the other, he opened the door.