Chapter 28
28
FIVE DAYS AFTER I LEFT HER
I look at Mac, my fist clenched as though all of the words I want to say are held tightly inside. We eye each other, all sidesteps and punches waiting to be thrown.
‘Why didn’t you say anything?’ I ask Mac.
‘I’m not the one trying to hide anything. Why didn’t you say anything when you turned up at my door, Mr I’m-a-writer-from-York?’
I’m still standing. The photo clutched in my other hand. I turn my back and stand it on the bureau. From behind, Caesar yawns and shifts. ‘I didn’t know if… if you’d slam the door on me.’
‘Shut the door on my son? Why would you think that?’
I turn back round. He looks genuinely confused.
‘Oh I don’t know, Mac.’ I flex my hand. ‘Because you walked out on us, when you never wanted to be in our life. And you lied too. I asked you if you’ve ever lived anywhere else and you said no, so you can get right off your high horse.’
‘No, you asked if this had always been home. I answered you truthfully. This is my home, the only one I’ve ever had.’
‘And what about the house you shared with us? ’
‘That was never home.’
‘Well that’s just great. Thanks for clarifying that for me. I feel much better about my father walking out.’
‘I didn’t walk out; I was pushed.’
I laugh at that. I barely recognise the noise that is coming out of my mouth. I imagine Mum trying to force this great hulking man through the door. She’s about seven and a half stone wet.
‘You could have written, visited, sent birthday cards.’
‘Aye.’
‘So why didn’t you?’ There is such venom in my words it feels like I’m spitting them out.
‘Because you were better off without me.’
‘Better off? Are you serious right now?’
Mac rubs the space between his eyebrows. I lower my voice a notch remembering the laboured way he had climbed the stairs.
‘I’m sorry for that,’ he says.
‘Yeah, well. It’s a bit fucking late for that now isn’t it?’
‘Now is not the time to talk about this.’
I snort and shake my head. ‘Right, well. You just find a space in your diary and let me know when you can pencil me in.’
‘Pencil you in?’ Mac shifts up the bed. ‘Do you want to get off your own high horse for a minute, eh? Let me catch my breath? Pencil you in .’ He rolls his eyes. Actually rolls them. ‘Look, I’ve got a bastard migraine, I feel half dead and so this is no conversation to have just now. I can talk to you later, when you’ve had time to calm down and I don’t feel like I’m about to puke my innards out, all right?’
I take in his appearance. He’s pale, and the grey hairs of his beard stand out amongst the black. I take a breath. ‘Fine. Get some rest,’ I say.
‘That’s what I was trying to do until you started throwing your arms around like an air traffic controller. ’
I don’t respond. Instead I stride over to his bedside, pick up his glass and refill it from the bathroom tap. When I return, he’s already asleep. I stand there looking down at him.
‘I can’t sleep with you standing over me like a fishwife,’ he says.
‘I’m going. I’ll… I’ll talk to you tomorrow.’
‘Aye, you will no doubt talk at me, but you might want to take a moment to listen too.’
‘Just…’ I want to say more, but all that comes out again is: ‘get some rest.’