‘I’VE JUST SEEN IT!’
We continue in this manner for a good five minutes. He lies, he shouts and I call him out, so he shouts some more. He isbeyond all reason – and I am beyond getting through to him, so broken and out of ideas that I start shouting too. The result is pyrotechnic.
I feel out of control. I feel irradiated with hormones. I feelhated.
And that’s before our final, atomic exchange, which goes like this . . .
‘Oh, why don’t you just . . . FUCK OFF!’
I gasp. Blood rushes to my head.
And I hear myself say: ‘No,YOUFUCK OFF.’
Even before Leo has slammed the door in my face, I feel a fierce rush of regret. My parenting has hit rock bottom. I’ve got nowhere else to go.
I turn around, dazed, and trudge down the stairs one by one. When I reach the bottom, I put head in my hands. I want to weep, to let it all out, but my eyes just burn and itch.
‘Are you okay, Mum?’
I look up at the sound of Jacob’s voice and see the worry on his face. It needles my heart, not least because it doesn’t feel so long ago that Leo would have behaved just like that.
How did it come to this?
‘I’m fine, sweetie,’ I say, forcing a tearful smile. ‘I’m really sorry you had to hear that.’
‘It’s not your fault, Mum.’
This makes me feel soawful– on so many levels – I don’t even know where to start. As sweet as it is, I don’t want my 10-year-old to try and make me feel better. First, because it feels disloyal to Leo, even if he does deserve it. And second, because it’s not true. Itismy fault. Who else’s could it be? There’s nobody else around here to blame, that’s for sure.
Chapter 39
To-do list
Arrange crisis meeting with Brendan
Torture self with articles about effects of alcohol abuse on teens
Ditto vaping
Install swear box
