In one way, I could see why Dave hadn’t given me a heads-up before his girlfriend Mandy had turned up for dinner.Because if he had, I would’ve made up an excuse not to come.
There was only so much of her bullshit I could cope with before wanting to make a run for it.
What made it worse was that my brother was falling for all her guile.Could he not see she was sensationalising her tales of woe just to get a reaction?So much of what she said didn’t add up.
And if that wasn’t bad enough, she was a smoker who tried to mask the stale smell of cigarettes with too much perfume.I felt my stomach lurch as I held my breath, desperately trying not to breathe her in.
As the seconds ticked away, my pulse raced.I needed to get away from her.Not just because she made me feel sick, but because of her calculating gaze — pinging around the sitting room like she was scoping out the place.
Jeez, could my brother pick ’em.
If Dad were here, he’d have had no problem telling Dave that this woman was a harpy, out for what she could get.
I was silently praying Dave wouldn’t ask me what I thought.His people-pleasing personality was his Achilles’ heel.His willingness to do anything just so people would like him made him open game for scammers and piss-takers.
And here was another example.
Yet he was oblivious to it.Which pissed me off even more.
Yeah, I know why he’s doing it — because he feels that if he doesn’t, they won’t want anything to do with him.It’s sad that he sells himself short all the time, but there’s nothing I can do about it.
Standing by, watching him being led on again, is just...excruciating.
But whatever I say just bounces off — like he’s got some kind of force field that deflects any words he doesn’t want to hear.
After dinner, I was standing in the sitting room, wondering if I could sneak out to my car without being seen, when the perfume hit me again.
Fuck me.How did Dave stand to be so close to her — let alone kiss her?
“You know,” she said, waving a manicured hand toward the display cabinet, “I was just telling Dave he should de-clutter some of this stuff.”
Oh, really?De-clutter?
Was that what she was calling the removal of Dad’s collection of car models?The ones that technically were mine now — that Dave wouldn’t let me have?
Not because he wanted them.Just because he wanted to keep everything as it was.The way Dad left it.Like a fixed moment in time, he refused to move forward from.
“Well, those are actually mine, so...”
Her face changed so fast I almost missed it — from smug and flippant to comically aghast.Jeez, was she trying for an Oscar?Because that performance was worthy of a Golden Raspberry.
“I was just thinking out loud, you know,” she said, voice suddenly sweet.“I just think there’d be more space if there were fewer things in the room.”
I didn’t care what this bitch thought about the size of the room or the things in it.And I couldn’t stop the words from slipping out.
“Ah well, then, it’s a good job you don’t live here, isn’t it?”
With that, I turned on my heels and escaped to Dad’s little office, the one place I knew Dave wouldn’t follow me.
Pulling in a lungful of perfume-and-nicotine-free air, I slumped into the desk chair.My mind reeled with mixed feelings: frustration at Dave, disgust at his girlfriend, and the strongest one...
Resentment.
Resentment that it was me dealing with it all.
I wanted my father back.I missed his guidance, his wisdom, his hugs.The way his eyes twinkled with laughter at one of my silly jokes.The way he’d smile and hand me a toasted teacake dripping in butter — knowing how unhealthy I thought it was, but also knowing I loved them that way.
Just as fast as the surge of anger swept over me, it vanished, leaving me to push down the rising tide of emotions threatening to engulf me.
