Jason squinted at her in disbelief. ‘I’m not trying toavoidanything, Karla. Trust me, Iknowwhat the problem is: me, clearly.’
‘Oh, this is ridiculous,’ Karla snapped. ‘I try to have a sensible discussion with you about our financial situation and you start acting like a temperamental adolescent.’
Well, that pretty much summed up her opinion of him. There really was no point talking to her, was there? Jason stared at her, disbelieving. ‘Fine, whatever. Think what you like about me. What your father is, though – that’s fact, Karla. Ask some of the women who work with him. Ask your mother’s friend’s daughter. He was standing so close to her at the bar, he was practically breathing down her neck.’
‘I don’t want to!’ Karla glared at him, her eyes blazing. ‘He’s my dad, Jason! What do you wantme to do?’
Jason had no idea how to answer that.
‘There’s nothing I can do, don’t you see? But Icando something about this. About us.’ She scanned his face, her expression now beseeching. ‘Why do you do this every time I try to talk to you? I don’t understand.’
Jason took a tight breath. ‘No,’ he said, more quietly, ‘and I don’t understand why you think I would want to be indebted to the man, Karla. Honestly, I don’t.’
Karla said nothing for a second, and then, ‘I can’t do this, Jason. Not tonight. I’m tired.’
Me too, he thought.Very. He sighed heavily behind her as she walked away.
Three
KARLA
I feel the dip in the bed as Jason climbs in beside me. Desperate to avoid further argument, or worse, obviously not speaking, I’m tempted for a second to feign sleep, but I think he probably knows me well enough to know when I’m faking it. But he doesn’t know me, I remind myself. Not all of me. Not the secret I keep.
He’s right about my father. Everything he says is true. What my father did to the person who was once closest to my heart opened my eyes to this fact years ago. The awfulness of it haunts my dreams. I wish I’d told. Made him tell. I was young, too young to realise the significance of Sarah losing consciousness when she fell, but my father would have. My mother would have. Had she not been by the bedside of my dying gran, she would have been there. She would have done something. I should have rung her at the hospital. The number had been there on my father’s desk. I should have said something.Heshould have.
I wish I could go back. See my sister again, hold her. Tell her that, no matter how much we argued, I loved her. That I’m sorry.
I would have told,Sarah whispers in my head.
She would have. Had it been I who was unconscious, Sarah would have stood up to him. Always the more confident one, she wouldn’t have allowed herself to be silenced by him. I was weak, but I gathered strength as I grew, began to see my father for who he really was: a man who would instil fear in a child. His own child. Who thrived on the fear he could instil in other people. I fought for my daughter. I fought for Jason. I will always fight for him, though he doesn’t realise that’s what I’m doing, trying to secure his future. Our future. I didn’t fight for my sister.
Squeezing my eyes closed, I hear Jason breathing. He’s lying still, flat on his back, staring at the ceiling. Sometimes he will throw an arm across his forehead and drift into a fitful sleep. More and more lately, he will toss and turn, pummel his pillow. When he does finally drift off, he will wake with a jolt, his own troubles haunting him. I so wish he would let me help him. Yes, it’s my father’s money, but it will be mine one day, after all. Surely putting some of it to good use now, when we need it, makes sense.
I feel him stir then, drawing a deep breath into his lungs, sighing it heavily out. ‘Sorry,’ he murmurs.
And my heart aches for him. It’s not his fault. It’s mine. I should have known better. Raising the subject of him taking a loan from my father was inevitably going to lead to us arguing. Jason wants to make things right, of course he does. But how can he? The bank has turned him down. We’ve already raised money against the house. He has no other options. He doesn’t stand a chance of raising the capital he needs to clear his debts and get someone else with the relevant computer science experience on board.
‘I know,’ I answer. I want to tell him it’s okay, but I can’t. Things feel far from okay right now. I feel as if the sand is shifting beneath us. As if we’re drifting apart, rather than reaching out to each other at a time when we need each other most. We’ve argued in the past. With two children, both now heading alarmingly quickly towards the dreaded teens, there’s an argument on average once a day in this household. But we’ve never been distant like this.
Jason doesn’t speak for a minute, and then I feel the mattress move under his weight as he turns towards me. ‘I really am sorry, Karla. I’ll fix this,’ he promises, sliding an arm around my midriff, easing me closer. ‘I just have to work smarter.’
I place a hand over his. He has nice hands; strong, with long fingers and clean fingernails. I wish he wouldn’t try to be so strong sometimes. Wouldn’t try to do everything himself, as if he has something to prove. I smile ironically at the idiocy of that thought. Of course he has something to prove. In his eyes, he’s in competition with my father. He always has been. But he needs to succeed on his own terms. To provide for his family. I get where that comes from, that it’s some inbuilt caveman instinct – though I daren’t say that to him – but it doesn’t make me feel any better. I’m scared. Scared I might lose him. That my father will eventually win the battle he has waged against him.
‘Bear with me,’ he whispers, pressing a soft kiss to my shoulder, another to the base of my neck. His hand strays lower, moving around to trace the curve of my hip, and my heart flutters, like a frantic butterfly in my chest.
I can’t do this. I try to quell a ridiculous rush of panic. Jason’s a good lover – a tender, caring, adventurous lover. There’s nothing I want more than the connection between us, the closeness it would bring, but now all I can see is my father. Worse, I can hear him, snoring as he lies by the side of my sister. And Sarah, I can’t hear her at all. My panic rises, twisting my heart in my chest. Guilt, too; expanding unbearably in my throat.You should have told.
I couldn’t. I catch Jason’s hand as it slides over my pelvis, dipping below the waistline of my shorts. ‘Don’t, Jase,’ I say, a shiver running through me. ‘I’m so tired…’
I stop as he freezes, feel his frustration as he pulls away from me. Turning to him, I see the silhouette of his arm as he rakes a hand through his hair. ‘Jason…’ I reach for him, but he moves swiftly, rolling away from me. Sitting up, he plants his feet on the floor and yanks himself off the bed.
‘Where are you going?’ I pull myself up as he plucks his phone from the bedside table and heads for the door.
‘Not far in my boxers,’ Jason assures me, his tone short, as if he would quite like to go as far away as possible.
‘Jason, don’t,’ I implore him. ‘I want to,’ I say weakly. Even I’m not convinced by the sound of my voice. ‘It’s just that I…’
‘Don’t,’ Jason finishes as I trail off, a weary edge to his tone. ‘I won’t be long,’ he adds, with a despairing sigh. ‘I just need some space… to think.’
