‘Dennis?’ I called out, dropping my handbag onto the hallway table. He didn’t respond, which wasn’t unusual. I checked my watch – six-pm. Yep, he’d be halfway through some sort of epic video game campaign by now, shouting at his buddies to cover his flank and provide NDIS support coordination… or something.
Except, I frowned to myself, kicking my shoes off on the hallway rug, I can’t hear any shouting.
I called out his name again, but got nothing back. His car had been in the driveway, I remembered, so it wasn’t likely he was out. I did a quick sweep of the house, and finally found him in our bedroom, headphones on and watching something on his tablet.
‘Honey!’ I called out loudly from the doorway.
‘Whoops, sorry,’ he grinned, ripping the headphones off. ‘Got distracted.’
‘By what?’ I asked, suspiciously.
‘Not that,’ he rolled his eyes. ‘I was watching a news report.’
‘You were… a news report?’ I frowned. The words felt wrong in my mouth. ‘But you don’t watch the news.’
‘I’m trying to!’
‘Why?’
‘To become a more rounded person?’
‘Why actually?’
He sighed. ‘Davey told me there was a funny video of a panda at the end of this one.’
‘There we go,’ I nodded. ‘All is right in the world.’
‘But this is such an interesting story anyway!’ he insisted. ‘It’s about this positive behaviour support program, near Adelaide.’
‘What’s that?’
‘I’m not fully sure,’ he admitted with a frown. ‘But there are lots of old and disabled people smiling, so I think it’s a good thing.’
‘Shove over then,’ I gestured, shooing him to the side so I could climb in next to him. He hit play and I watched over his shoulder.
‘Doesn’t it look wonderful?’ he asked, almost choking up.
‘Dennis, that’s not the news,’ I groaned. ‘That’s a pharmaceutical commercial!’
‘What?’
‘Hit the skip button, idiot!’
‘Ohhh,’ he mouthed. ‘That would explain why it keeps asking for my credit card.’
‘DENNIS!’