Chapter Text
Cosmo’s father started acting weirdly after ‘The Incident’. That was all they referred to it as. The trip on the boat that he’d been so excited for, and now wished had never happened.
Everyone else was gone, and now it was just Cosmo and his father. His father tried, Cosmo knew he did, but it wasn’t nearly enough. The little hard candies that his father now gave him whenever either of them was feeling particularly sad were the same kind of candies that Uncle Quentin used to give him, but for some reason it didn’t feel the same coming from his father.
When he was younger Cosmo used to love when his father tucked him in, because he made everything an exciting game. After the Incident instead of his father tucking him in every other night, it was now always him, and now he only ever did it the way that mother used to, with all the extra pillows at his back and his legs, making him feel like he was being hugged in his sleep. It was still really cozy, but it felt different when his father did it, and Cosmo didn’t really know why.
He could get used to those things. He knew he probably just missed his family, and father had promised him that it would get easier someday. At least he wasn’t alone. At least he had his father still. They had each other, and even though they were both hurting it made it easier for them to pretend that maybe they were okay.
Cosmo didn’t really want to pretend, because things weren’t okay, and he didn’t know how they could ever be okay again. But his father was trying really hard to pretend, and if Cosmo didn’t play along then his father would get all sad. He would feel like he was a failure of a father, that he should be better. Cosmo didn’t want his father to be sad, so he pretended too, and sometimes he could almost forget that it was just make-believe.
Every day was both a little harder and a little easier than the last. Cosmo was starting to get used to the new normal, but there was one thing that he hated more than the others. One part of this game of pretend that he really didn’t like.
Cosmo sat on his bed, looking at the book in his hands. This was one of Iris’ favorite books. It was full of fairy tales. Cosmo had never been too interested in these kinds of stories that were somehow too scary and too childish for him. But Iris had loved the magic and mystery, and Cosmo loved her. He missed her. And while his father was doing things to help him miss his mother and uncle just a little less he didn’t do anything like that for Iris. He didn’t talk about her. He didn’t so much as mention her. His father wouldn’t even pause to look at her bedroom door with a longing look in his eyes the way that he would do for his own room and the guest room where Uncle Quentin had slept.
Cosmo’s father acted like Iris had never existed, and it hurt so much.
He sniffled and clutched tightly at the book, hugging it to his chest. He laid down and curled up on his bed, snuggling into the blanket that his mother had made for Iris’ last birthday. Cosmo could remember that his sister used to get so mad at him when he touched her blanket. He’d been jealous of the pretty colors and soft fabric. He wanted his own soft blanket. Now he would give up all of his blankets, pillows, and every other soft thing in the house, if it just meant that he could have his sister back.
There was a knock on the door and Cosmo barely had time to throw Iris’ blanket over his head before his father let himself in. He didn’t want his father to see him crying. They had both done far too much crying since ‘The Incident’.
Cosmo hoped that his father would think that he was sleeping. He wasn’t so lucky. He heard footsteps come closer, and then he felt a familiar and gentle touch on his shoulder.
“Are you okay?” Oscar asked. Cosmo just sniffled and buried himself deeper into the blanket. His father sighed. “I know, I know. That was a dumb question.”
“I miss her.” Cosmo said. Lately it seemed like all he was doing was missing someone. Usually he just missed his family as a whole. Right now he mostly just missed his sister. She was his worst enemy and closest friend, and he didn’t know what to do without her. She would probably know how to play pretend for their father much more than Cosmo could.
“Oh, my boy.” Cosmo squeaked a little when he felt his father easily pick him up and settle him on his lap. Even though Cosmo was curled up and wrapped up in the blanket his father seemed to know how to position him just right.
“I miss your mother too.” Oscar said. Cosmo wanted to be relieved that his father was finally stopping the game of pretend and letting himself be just a little sad, but he couldn’t. Cosmo’s heart felt like it broke and he couldn’t keep in his distressed wail. He didn’t know what was going on. It was confusing, and it hurt, and Cosmo just wanted everything to be okay again.
“I-I want Iris.” Cosmo sobbed. He leaned against his father’s chest. “I want my sister.” He knew she wasn’t coming back. She was gone, just like Mother and Uncle Quentin were. But Father was at least trying to keep their memories alive. Cosmo didn’t even get that with Iris.
Oscar was quiet for a minute before he shifted Cosmo and pushed the blanket aside to free the boy’s face. “Are you sick?” Oscar put a hand on Cosmo’s forehead, just like Mother used to when she was feeling for a fever.
“I’m fine.” Cosmo said. His father didn’t seem convinced.
“Maybe you should see a doctor.” Oscar said thoughtfully. “I think you’re a little confused.”
Cosmo frowned and pushed his father’s hand aside. He was very confused, but not like that. He didn’t understand why his father was ignoring his sister. That didn’t mean that he was sick.
“W-why don’t you miss her too?” Cosmo hiccupped and gave a little cough as his sobs were overwhelming. “Y-you’re pretending, and playing, and acting like everything’s fine, but why do you have to ignore her for it to be fine?”
His father was quiet for a long time. He just held Cosmo as the boy cried and sobbed against his chest. Eventually Cosmo’s sobs tapered off to occasional whimpers and whines.
“...I’m sorry.” Oscar said. Cosmo didn’t often hear his father talk to him like this. This was the grown-up voice that adults only used for each other. “I’m so sorry if I’m hurting you, but…I don’t know who you’re talking about.”
Cosmo felt like his heart squeezed. He pulled away from his father and gave him an alarmed look. “W-what?”
“Iris, you said?” Oscar brushed some of Cosmo’s hair out of his face. “Is that a friend of yours?”
Cosmo didn’t know what to say. He was confused. He was hurt. He was frustrated. It felt like his father was playing a really mean game, but that wasn’t like him. His father could be silly sometimes, but he wasn’t mean. Especially not to his kids. He doted on Iris, and he coddled Cosmo. Even if he’d been acting weird since The Incident, this was too far. Too much.
This wasn’t a game. Cosmo was wondering just how much of his father playing pretend was actually just pretending. How much of this did he mean?
“Y-you don’t remember Iris?” Cosmo asked quietly. He prayed to a being that he wasn’t all-that familiar with, that this was all just a really bad dream, or that his father was just tired. Maybe his father was the one who was sick and confused, because nothing else made sense. How could he forget his daughter?
“I’m afraid not.” Oscar said. “I’m sorry.” And Cosmo could tell that he meant it. His father had never hesitated to apologize to his family if he knew that he had done something wrong, whether he’d done it on purpose or not.
Cosmo knew this wasn’t a game anymore, but he didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t want it to be true. He squirmed and wiggled around until his father let go of him. He climbed off his father’s lap and grabbed his hand. He knew his father didn’t remember, but maybe he could be reminded.
Cosmo pulled his father out of the room, nearly tripping over the blanket in his hurry. He pushed open the door to Iris’ room, which had been practically untouched since they went on that boat.
“Look at her stuff.” Cosmo said desperately. He pushed his father into the room. The man just looked confused, as though he had never seen this room before in his life. Tears started falling from Cosmo’s eyes again. “She liked fairies, and scary stories. Her favorite color was sometimes purple and sometimes shiny.” Cosmo had never understood what color, exactly, was ‘shiny’, but Iris had insisted that it was one of her favorite colors.
Oscar looked around, his eyes cautious and confused. He stopped next to the dresser next to the bed and picked up a sketchbook. Iris had just gotten interested in drawing. Cosmo didn’t think her pictures were very good. They were basically stick figures. But she loved to do it, and their father would always compliment her drawings as though she was as good as any artist.
Oscar looked at the drawing the sketchbook was open too. Though it wasn’t recognizable as such, Cosmo knew it was a drawing of their father doing his circus tricks. She had been inspired by their father. She had always looked up to him.
Cosmo had hoped to spark some memory or emotion in his father, but his eyes remained clueless. He didn’t remember his daughter.
“You really don’t remember her.” It wasn’t a question this time.
“Who was she?” Oscar asked slowly. “Iris…Cora always wanted a little girl named Iris.” Oscar slowly looked up from the picture and looked at Cosmo. He was crying a little bit too, but he didn’t really look sad. He just looked a little lost.
“Whose room was this?” Oscar asked.
“Iris’.” Cosmo said. Oscar still looked confused. “She was my sister.”
“Your sister.” Oscar looked around the room, taking in every detail. “I have…I had a daughter?” He sounded so broken, and Cosmo felt bad. He hadn’t wanted his father to feel worse. He had just wanted to understand why they never talked about her.
Oscar sank onto the bed as though his legs couldn’t stand to support him anymore. “I don’t remember her. Why don’t I…how could I…” His voice broke with a devastated cry as he let out a pained wail. Cosmo shuddered. It was a worse sound than when his father had realized that his wife and brother were dead. He sounded like he was never going to be okay again, and it was all Cosmo’s fault.
The boy sniffled, and even through his cries his father heard him. Oscar opened his arms and looked at him, tears streaming down his cheeks. “My boy. My dear boy. I…please. Please.”
He didn’t need to ask. Cosmo ran to his father and threw his arms around him. Oscar picked him up and held him close. It was just a little too tight. It almost bordered on painful, but Cosmo didn’t complain or make a sound about it. He was scared and his heart hurt so much that he felt like he was going to die.
Oscar was holding onto him as though he was scared that if he let him go for even a second then he would disappear not just from his arms but from his memories as well. Just like Iris. Cosmo was scared of the same thing. So he held onto his father, crying and nuzzling against him.
Cosmo didn’t know why his father had forgotten about Iris. Maybe something had happened during The Incident. Cosmo had thought that he’d lost his father as well. His father had been declared dead, but a few minutes later he was up and on his feet again. Some people said it was a miracle. Cosmo didn’t know what to think.
Cosmo didn’t know what had nearly killed his father. Maybe it was drowning. Maybe it was a bump on the head. But he’d heard grown-ups talk about how fragile the brain was. A bump in the wrong place or a run-in with something weird could change the brain. It could make someone act like a new person, or mess with their memories.
He just hoped that whatever had happened didn’t happen again. The pain of knowing that his father had completely forgotten Iris was nearly unbearable. Cosmo didn’t think he could take more of this, and he didn’t think his father could either.
“No more forgetting.” Cosmo said through his tears. “Please.”
“No more.” His father said roughly. “I promise.” And Cosmo believed him, because his father wasn’t a liar. He didn’t stop to think that his father hadn’t tried to forget Iris, and if he forgot again then it would probably be another accident. He didn’t stop to think that while grown-ups were strong, there were a lot of things that were out of their control. All that mattered to Cosmo in that moment was that his father was there, and they were together.
It wasn’t enough. It wasn’t perfect. But it was all they had.