“I have the right to have time off,” I said sternly.
“Which is why you’ve not gone back to work. Which is why your teammates are texting your kids and wondering where the hell you are. Which is why Deepak rang Auntie Patel because you’re not answering your goddamn phone, Dad. He was just wanting to check if you were okay. Watched the show and all that.”
Ah. Yeah. Great. Fuck.
“I’m not proud,” I said softly. “And this has been…a lot.”
“You don’t say.” Ed sighed.
“I’m… I’m…not ready.”
“Oh fuck off, Dad.”
“Ed,” I shouted.
“DAD!” Cal could be stern when he wanted to be.
Silence. The goddamn silence. I wanted the floorboards to creak. For someone to take my side. I wanted… Fuck knows what I wanted.
“Dad, we grew up in this house. Do you think we’re stupid? It’s a three-bed semi. Do you think there were secrets? We had no fucking secrets; we lived with Mum! Have you suddenly completely erased the past ten-odd years? Dad! For fuck’s sake.”
He leant back and shook his head.
“Sorry, Ollie. It’s a lot,” Ed continued. “I get it, but Dad here? He sometimes needs a reminder of who he is. And that his kids are not complete tools.”
“You are complete tools,” I said. I meant it. Seriously?
Obviously.
“Mum and Dad have always said it. Open and honest. We don’t have secrets because secrets are fucking messy. Dad had some. Then he didn’t, and then we all laughed about it. Mum made sure of that. It’s not that complicated, and now he’s sat here pretending like it’s a big fucking deal. Back in the closet, are we, Dad?”
Talk about ripping the bloody plaster off.
Silence. And Oliver just looking down at the tabletop. His fingers slowly gripping the edge.
“Outing people is not on,” he said sternly. Then he stared at Cal. And then he looked at me.
And yes. He was right. Because I? I hadn’t learnt a fucking thing.
And that’s when the ceiling light went out.
We should have been laughing about it. We should have… This? This was too much. Far too much. Which was why I stood up and took myself out of the equation, the stupid fool I was.
I bumbled upstairs and put myself back where I belonged. In my old bedroom, which was still a mess. We’d never redecorated despite saying we should. Instead the old sofa was up here, along with a TV and a million leads crisscrossing the floor. Speakers. Some empty games boxes in the corner. And me, huddled up under the large bay window like a small child. I was still shaking. The debilitating muscle spasms making my body move on its own. I had no control. None.
I’d sat here before. On the floor, and I could almost picture Mary next to me, arms around her knees like she always sat.
“Sometimes the floor is the best place,” she would say, smiling at me. She smiled a lot. Even when times were bad. Even when I thought we’d ruined things forever.
“I’ve done it now, haven’t I?” I almost said it out loud, as she shook her head. I could see her, so clearly, right next to me.
“No, darling, you haven’t. They’re just as rattled as you are. These are big changes, again, and you know what we said.”
“Yes,” I answered back into the empty room. “I know.”
“You’re just who you are. You can’t change anything about that.”
“I wish I could.”
