Says you haven’t been round in ages and her heart is breaking more by the day because she only ever gets to see you on the telly nowadays.
I was there last Sunday…
I’m just relaying the message, not trying to make sense of it. Don’t be a prat and get here early. And bring Pebble. I miss my niece.
Fine, but I’m going to the gym first.
God forbid you go a day without aggressively dropping a 90-kilo bar on the ground.
*125kg
See you later, loser.
I finish getting ready for the gym, taking Pebble out on a quick walk before I leave, when my phone dings again.
Jade
Only to figure out why I didn’t recognize you before.
To be a fly on the wall when she left the conference room that day. Jade is bold—assertive—and doesn’t strike me as someone who enjoys not having control of a situation. Based on the way she held herself during the team conference, and the fact that she set up meetings with every player to determine needs and improvements, something tells me she’s a hands-on type of leader, not someone prone to error. Seeing me that day must have been a shock to the system. Now, all she sees is a mess she needs to clean up. A headache.
Tieran
I’m sorry if this…situation…created a mess for you. My only intention that night was to provide back up when that wanker wouldn’t leave you alone.
Jade
I know.
Do you regret it?
Insecurity prickles at my neck. I don’t know why I asked, why I feel this compulsive need to know if what I felt that night—what I can still feel writhing under my skin—is one-sided.
But Jade never answers the question, leaving me on read the rest of the night to wonder.
Pebble barrels through the door like a tiny bull, straight onto my dad’s lap, tail wagging furiously and mouth spread wide in a smile with her tongue lolling out of her mouth.
My dad starts in on aggressively petting her, telling her she’s the best girl and planting kisses all over her face. It’s the only time I ever see him openly affectionate with anything or anyone—his family included.
“You spoil her,” I rebuke.
The only response I get is a grunt as he continues to stroke her neck. Pebble soaks up the attention, flipping onto her back and wiggling so much in excitement, she nearly slides off the chair.
Lottie, Charlotte formally, Charles only to me because our parents thought they were having another boy, pops her pastel pink head around the corner. “My favourite family member is here,” she exclaims, barreling past me and over to my dog to lavish her in love.
“No need to say hello to me,” I say to the room at large. I may as well not even be here.
“Did you hear something, Pebble?” Lottie says within an inch of my dog’s face while Dad’s gone back to watching a rugby match between two Northern teams.
“Did you catch our match?” I ask him, feeling like a little boy seeking his father’s approval.
Dad coughs. “I was on the road. Harold said you lost, though.” He doesn’t look at me, doesn’t console me. I don’t know why, after so many years, I still hope for a shred of kinship. It’snot who he is.
Lottie’s looking up at me with a regretful expression. “It was so close, though. I’m sure you’ll ease back in soon enough.”
My sister, ever the people pleaser, always trying to keep the peace.
“Tieran!” my mum calls out. “Come make batter for the yorkies. You make it the best.”
