Chapter 34 #2
My father’s face is blank. “It was in the sixth form. Al had just got his driving license and his dad let him drive his second car. There were five of us—your mother, two other friends, him, and me. It was a Saturday night and we’d gone into town for a few beers.
Al wasn’t drinking, but on the way back to school, I persuaded him to let me drive.
It was a country lane, never any traffic.
He didn’t want to, but everyone else thought it was a laugh.
He gave in. I wanted to impress your mum, show off to him and the others.
And then this deer ran across the road. He tried to grab the wheel, but I wouldn’t let him. We hit a tree beside the road.”
He falls silent. I stare at him, I don’t know what to say. Even though I have a thousand questions.
“Your mother and the other two weren’t badly hurt.
Mild concussion, maybe, but nothing serious.
Me either, but Al . . . The impact crushed the passenger side of the car like a fucking concertina.
The footwell was just gone. Shit, I’ll never forget the way he screamed with pain.
I was just glad when he finally blacked out.
Later, they said he’d been lucky they didn’t have to amputate his leg. ”
The yearbook photos. Mr. Ward suddenly missing, then back again but walking with a stick. And my dad who disappeared altogether.
“Did you get expelled?” I have no idea where this calm voice is coming from. Was the music stuff just an excuse, not the real reason he never finished school?
“I ran away before they could throw me out. I was seventeen, I was scared. I’d almost killed my best friend, I couldn’t cope.
The doctors said he’d be able to walk again but not like he used to.
He’d been one of the school’s best runners.
He wanted to study sports science; it was his life, and I smashed it up, just because I was trying to be cool. ”
He wanted to study sports science . . .
Mr. Ward’s eyes when I run with Henry in the early morning. The tension between him and Mum.
I want to ask Mum why she never told me. I want to shout at her, accuse her. But I don’t. Not here, not in front of Dad.
They were friends. There was an accident. My dad was to blame. That’s why Mr. Ward is so bitter. And the daughter of the man who wrecked his future comes along to his school, reminding him of what he’ll never be able to do again.
“And did you never apologize?” I ask slowly.
My father shakes his head.
“Why the hell not?”
“Because I’m an arsehole, Emma,” he says, more loudly than I’d expected.
“I mean, look at me. I’ve got nothing. I walked out on your mother and I’m just a disappointment to you.
Back then with Al, I was scared, I was out of my depth.
I ran away like a wuss instead of facing up to my mistake and asking my friend to forgive me.
I did everything wrong in life. I thought I could run away, but the past always catches up with you.
I realized that when I met a couple of people from our year.
They said he wasn’t doing well. He did get a degree, but not the one he’d wanted.
He was bitter and was chugging pills like they were Smarties because of the pain, which never stopped. ”
The pills in his office. Mr. Ward’s nervous expression that time we saw him in the pharmacy at Irvine’s. Hold on . . .
“You mean . . . ?” I pause.
“I’ve seen a few people in the business get hooked on morphine. Especially in the States. You think you’ve got it under control, but it’s the exact opposite. It destroys you.”
Morphine. Painkillers. Strong painkillers . . .
Mum nods when I look at her. “I wasn’t sure if you’d noticed at the parents’ evening. But I was afraid Al was on some kind of drug.”
I stand up. Dad lifts his head. “Thank you. I . . . You’ve been really helpful,” I manage. “Sorry, but I’ve got to go.”
“Sure.” Maybe I’m only imagining it, but there’s a flash of disappointment in his eyes for a second.
It’s too much for me. Because today he’s so different from the last time we met.
Regretful, resigned. As if he wasn’t as uninterested in me as I thought.
Maybe because he’s sober today. I have to think about what that means.
Some other time, in peace, not now. Mum stands up too.
“How long are you staying?” he asks her.
“I don’t know, Jacob,” she says, reaching into her handbag. The cash she leaves on the table, like the unbridgeable chasm between them. “I wish you all the best.”
He stands up, saying nothing. You shouldn’t feel sorry for your own father.
But I do when I grasp that he’s the one who made choices he’ll regret his whole life.
It’s not my story. I shouldn’t judge. Accidents happen, people make mistakes.
I should know. But my parents’ past became my present when Henry and I were unwittingly caught up in something that could have been prevented.
And now I have just one job: to get justice done, to salvage our future.