“Oh, you want facts? I’ll give you facts.” My voice is harsh and a lot louder than usual. “Here’s a fact; Ihadto go, okay? I didn’t fucking want to move. My life was here. I had to go, ‘cause I couldn’t let my mom go by herself. Her family and friends are here, she hasno-onein Sydney.” I’m spiraling and getting louder and louder. “You don’t know what she’s like. I couldn’t stay here and fucking well let her go on her own.”
He stands still and considers me. He looks surprisingly calm, considering I’ve yelled and word-vomited at him.
When he talks, his voice is quiet. Low and melodic, like it always is. It gives no hint of the gravity of what he’s about to say. “So, if she has no-one in Sydney, why’d you think she moved there?”
I’m still on a roll from before, so I don’t pause or think through what I’m saying. “You know damn well she moved there to get me as far as possible from my dad.”
My mouth drops open as soon as I hear my words. It’s the truth. I know it is. Of course it is. I’ve always known it. It’s just that it’s one of those things I’ve stepped around for years. I’ve averted my eyes and I’ve shuffled past it. I’ve made a point of not looking directly at it and not talking about it. I’ve avoided it for so long and so hard, I’ve allowed myself to forget it exists.
Luke leans back against the desk. “It has a name, you know. It’s called parental alienation. It’s a type of abuse.”
Rage engulfs me so hard and so fast, I can hardly get words out. “My mother…neverabused my dad. You don’t fucking know her. She…”
“She hurt your dad, but that’s not what I mean. You’re the one she abused.”
I’m so angry I can’t see. My hands shake as I push past Luke. He follows me back to the guest house, trailing a few feet behind me, calling my name. I slam my bedroom door and when he knocks, I press my back against it and slide onto the floor.
“Don’t come in.”
“I won’t, but I’m here if you need me, Jess. Take all the time you need.”
I sit there for ages. Hours. Not moving. Mind racing. I stay there until I hear him go into the main house when our parents get home. I feel tired. I’m exhausted. I feel like I’ve been tired for years. I’m tired in the base of my neck and in my skull. When I finally get off the floor I lie down on my bed and close my eyes. That makes it worse. It makes my thoughts louder and uglier, so I open them quickly. I pull my phone out of my pocket. I send my mom a couple of messages.
She doesn’t reply.
I wait for a while. I give her as long as I can. Longer maybe. Longer than it’s reasonable to wait when someone you love leaves you on read.
Then I start googling parental alienation.
It’s late when Luke comes back to the guest house. He heads straight for the shower and when he’s done, he raps on my door and says, “Time to get ready, Jess, Chase is going to pick us up soon.”
I don’t answer and I don’t move. There’s no way in hell I’m going out tonight.
He moves around his room, crashing into things and closing doors loudly, like always. I know the sounds he makes when he gets ready so well now, I recognize the individual creaks of each of his wardrobe doors. He opens the middle one first. That’s the one he keeps his underwear in. He opens the one near the door next. That’s pants and jeans. I try not to picture him getting dressed, but I’ve seen him do it so often, it’s hard not to. He does this ridiculous thing where he steps into his underwear with one foot and pulls them up a bit too high. It makes it hard for him to get his other leg in, so he has to do this little hop to get into them. He does the same thing with his pants. I’ve been meaning to rib him about it, but I haven’t gotten around to it yet.
I’m smiling because it’s stupid, okay? Not for any other reason.
He taps softly at my door. “You ready?”
“I’m not coming.”
The door handle dips down.
Fuck! I knew I should have asked my dad to put a deadbolt on the door.
I sit up and swing my feet onto the floor. “I’m not in the mood, okay, Luke? I don’t feel like being around people. It’s not a big deal. I’m completely fine, I just…”
My throat goes bone dry and I lose my train of thought completely. Completely. Like, totally. I can’t remember what I was saying, or what I was thinking.
“That’swhat you’re wearing?” My voice spikes up at least two octaves.
He shrugs lightly, but the subtle movement ripples down his side, engaging his abs and making one pec swell and relax. He looks pale. The light overhead is bright and the black mesh of the tank he’s wearing contrasts strongly with his skin. The top clings to his chest, tiny gaps in the fabric form a delicate web over his upper body. His jeans are black too. Ink black. Form fitting in a way that highlights his hips and hints at the musculature of his legs.
“I, uh…”
“I just wanted to check how you’re doing. Chase will be here soon. We have to pick Gould up. He’s running late, it’s this whole big thing.”
Gould?
