The Winning Ticket (Circle of Friends #1)

39. Should Never Have Made My Dream A Burden For You

JAKE

39

When I finally make it home, the sun is dipping below the horizon, and Dad’s ute is parked out the front. I pull into my driveway and kill the engine, listening to it tick as it cools. I avoid the confrontation with my father for as long as I can.

I run my eyes over the front of the house and vow to myself to start working on tidying the place up. To start making it a haven instead of a prison cell.

“You planning on coming inside, or are we eating out here?” Dad appears at my window, and I jump, having been so lost in thought that I hadn’t noticed him walk towards the car.

“So I’m cooking for you and dealing with a lecture?” I ask, feeling the resentment start to rise.

“No. I got us pizzas from in town. And beer.”

Well, at least he wasn’t being completely presumptuous.

I grumble my thanks and he follows me inside, grabbing the pizzas and carton of beer from the front porch. “I thought you’d have let yourself in?”

“I didn’t want to let myself in uninvited,” Dad replies with a shrug, and I raise an eyebrow at him.

He’s got a key to my place and has often let himself in over the years.

“Why the sudden use of manners?” I ask, dropping my keys in the bowl I keep by the front door.

Then, I get to work, removing my work boots. Dad bends to do the same, and I notice him wince and grip his back.

“I’ve always had manners. And normally, I don’t have to send you home because you’ve thrown a tantrum, so I figured I had best wait until you were here to let me in.”

I ignore the swipe about throwing a tantrum and eye him closely. “How long has your back been playing up?”

“A while,” he responds, his tone short and gruff.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” I ask, crossing my arms.

“Because then that would be just another thing you resent me for if you’re forced to do even more work,” he snaps back, pushing past me to take the pizzas into the kitchen.

I stay where I am for a moment before following behind.

“What do you mean, another thing for me to resent you for?” I’ve never voiced my feelings about being forced to work out here, but I guess I haven’t done as good of a job hiding it as I thought.

“I haven’t missed how you’ve dragged yourself back here these last few months. I know you feel obliged to be here, but it was never meant to be a prison sentence. If you knew I was starting to have back problems, that would just cause you to hate me even more.” He moves around the kitchen, getting plates for our food while I stare at him, dumbfounded.

“I don’t hate you, Dad.”

“You could have fooled me lately, son. Every time we’ve spoken, it’s either been about work, or you’ve been snapping at me.”

I feel like absolute shit, but I also figure if I don’t air my grievances now, things are never going to get any better between us. I accept the plate he hands me and throw a couple of slices of pizza on it, even though I’m not particularly hungry.

Neither of us speaks until we’re sitting at my small kitchen table, and Dad cracks open a beer for me before opening one for himself.

“So. Are we going to discuss all this nonsense once and for all, or will you continue to lie to me about being happy out here?”

This is honestly the most I’ve heard my father speak in years, and I take a moment to look at him before I finally speak up.

“I guess, since I won the apartment and came back into contact with Bri again, I have resented being out here more than I used to. But,” I take a mouthful of beer to try and give myself a moment to gather my thoughts properly. “I have never known what I wanted from my life, and I felt like I wasn’t given a choice. You were so adamant that I come and work for you like Sam was supposed to, and I didn’t have anything planned, so I just rolled with it. But I’ve missed my friends in Brisbane and watching them get on with their lives back there while I felt like I was just stagnating here… It got worse the more I went back. And dealing with Dylan’s bullshit at times makes me frustrated, along with everyone in town seeming to be watching my every move. The women here, for the longest time, treated me like I was fresh meat, and I hated that. But the hardest thing to deal with is not knowing who I can trust.”

Dad eyes me closely as if waiting to see if I am done talking, and I nod at him stiffly.

“OK. So that was a lot. I’ll start with the last part first. What do you mean by not knowing who to trust?”

I take a deep breath, preparing to discuss the one thing we have always avoided. “We never knew who it was that bullied Sam so badly that he thought his only way out was to end it all. So I’ve struggled to make friends out here properly because I don’t know who was involved.”

Dad stares at me for a moment, seemingly lost for words. I don’t think he’d expected this to get quite so deep. Neither did I, to be honest.

“Jake… You were only young when everything happened with Sam. He was five years older than you. The kids you hung out with back then had nothing to do with Sam. He chose to keep himself cut off from everyone here and not make friends because he was depressed and didn’t know how to talk to me about it. I know I am not the most talkative of people, but I have always been here for both of you boys. I harboured a lot of guilt for a long time after what happened with your brother, but I’ve learnt that when it comes to mental illness, you can’t force your loved ones to be okay. I see I’ve made the same mistake with you that I did with him. I’ve not asked you to talk to me because I thought you’d tell me if there was a problem, and I didn’t want to push you, but if we’d had this conversation years ago, perhaps you’d have settled here a little more.”

My stomach sinks when I see the tears shining in my father’s eyes. I’ve never had issues talking about my feelings because Mum insisted on raising me to be open with her, but I’d never felt that luxury with Dad, and now I’ve gone and made him cry.

“I never blamed you for Sam, Dad. I know he chose his path. But I think I resented that you expected me to fill his shoes. I don’t recall ever wanting to be an electrician; it was just expected that I would come and work for you.”

Dad nods stiffly. “For that, I am sorry. That was never the intention. My father never gave me anything, and it was always my dream to have this business and be able to hand it to one of my two sons. But I should never have made my dream a burden for you.”

“It’s okay. Although I don’t love working in the heat, I know how lucky I am to have had the opportunity to learn a trade when I didn’t know what else I wanted to do with my life.” I stare at the label on my beer, which I have been slowly peeling off throughout the entire conversation, while I channel my nervous energy into my hands.

“What about your music?”

My head whips up, and I stare at Dad. In my twenty-five years, he has never once acknowledged my love of music and playing the guitar, and now he’s just asked about it so casually.

“Um… Well, I have no intention of becoming a rock star, so I just play for myself now.”

“A few guys are always playing at the pub for fun. Why don’t you talk to them about joining them?”

We have officially entered the twilight zone now. “Maybe,” I mumble, and Dad chuckles.

“Well, you should try and find some way to use it as a creative outlet. Your entire world can’t be about working out here. That would be a large part of the issue. I know you miss your friends, but you’re getting to the age where those friendships will change once they start settling down with their families. If you’re not careful, you’ll end up a grumpy old man, with the local kids avoiding riding their bikes past your house cause you’re yelling at them all the time.”

That is an oddly specific description, and I narrow my eyes while I look him over. “Are you saying I’ll end up like you?”

“Well, not exactly like me, but yes, you’ll end up a grouchy old bastard, and we already have one of those in the family.”

I laugh and shake my head before finally taking a bite of pizza. “Can’t have another grumpy Boyd stomping around town, that’s for sure.”

We eat quietly for a moment before Dad speaks up again. “What happened with Brianna?”

I sigh and take another mouthful of beer. “We’ve put the brakes on our situation for a while.”

“Seemed like a hell of a lot more than a situation to me,” Dad replies with a raised eyebrow.

I shrug. “Honestly, I hope we’re working towards something more, but she’s got a lot going on, and I don’t want to put any pressure on her.”

Dad watches me for a moment before shaking his head.

“What?” I ask.

“Just seems like you’re not so good at putting yourself first, Jake. Talk to her. She deserves to know how you feel.”

I stare at my father, unable to believe where this conversation has taken us.

By the time he’s ready to leave, we’ve cleared the air, and I promise not to be an asshole to Dylan the next morning.

Watching my father drive off down the street, I mull over what he said and realise he’s right. I never put myself first. Maybe it is time I’m honest with Bri and see what she says.