28. Ryan
Ryan
I didn’t go home that night.
Going home would have meant seeing the bed I shared with Dominic. Watching the window, unable to decide if it would be better or worse if he didn’t appear.
There was no reason for him to now. We were over. Finished. Whatever had existed between us had been extinguished by his lies.
If anything had truly existed at all.
Dominic loves you, a small voice whispered in the back of my mind. He loves you. Not Max.
I just wished I could be certain. Truth was, I’d never understood what Dominic saw in me. Wasn’t like he’d ever paid me any attention until I got on my knees for him. Maybe Max was right, and my more fluid sexuality gave Dominic everything he’d ever truly wanted.
Max at his side, and his carbon copy in his bed.
That’s not true, my heart screamed. It bombarded me with memories of Dominic. Moments we’d shared together. Secret conversations and private jokes.
Secret. Private. Because that was what we’d been. Well, as far as I’d been aware, anyway. Pointless really, given Max had known the whole time.
I turned the arguments over in my mind as I walked. I revisited every word Max had said. Every word I’d said. Every word Dominic had said.
There’s something to be said for walking. As the hours passed, the anger, the confusion, the frustration, it all washed away. The weariness in my bones didn’t allow for anything other than the facts. The facts, and the knowledge of how I truly felt.
Of what I truly wanted.
As the sun rose, it took away the darkness that had been festering in my heart. Dominic was right. This was just a stupid argument. Why did we have to end? It didn’t matter that I wouldn’t see him for months at a time—it was better than never seeing him at all.
Really, nothing mattered apart from one fact.
I loved him.
I loved him, and maybe that made me a fool, but I had to try. It might’ve taken me all night to reach that conclusion, but now that I had, there was no budging me from it.
Dominic wanted to try, and so did I.
I fought the urge to run to his house and start hammering on his door. I’d never met his dad, but with everything I knew about him, I suspected waking him barely past dawn wouldn’t go down well.
Talking with Dominic could wait a few hours, I reasoned, turning my feet towards home. There were two weeks before he left. Plenty of time for us to talk. To decide together how our future might look.
For me to apologise for thinking he was in love with Max. Deep down, I knew that wasn’t true. It didn’t explain why Dominic had betrayed me, but I knew he loved me. He’d never choose Max over me.
I opened the front door quietly, expecting everyone to be fast asleep still. But as I stepped over the threshold, I spotted movement in the kitchen.
“Oh, Mum,” I said, my heart bleeding. Once again, she was crying at the table. I leaned down to hug her. “I know it’s hard, but it’s not like he’ll be gone forever. And we have two weeks before they leave.”
I was saying the words as much for my sake as hers.
“He’s gone,” she sobbed. “My baby has gone.”
I rubbed her shoulder consolingly. “No, he’s going on August third, remember? He’s not gone yet.”
She lifted her head wearily, eyes swollen from crying. “No, sweetheart, he’s gone already. Didn’t he tell you?”
My heart stopped. “What?”
“He and Dominic left last night, quite late.” She dabbed under her eyes with a tissue. “They’ve decided to spend their last two weeks of freedom travelling together.”
Numbness crept over me. No. That wasn’t possible. Dominic had said he wanted us to be together. That this wasn’t the end.
“Not that I can blame them,” Mum continued, unaware of my bleeding heart. “Nothing separates those two, especially when they’ve set their minds to something. I did try and persuade them to wait to speak to you, but they refused.”
I didn’t say anything. I was in shock.
Mum patted my hand. “I imagine it’s a bit of a surprise. The three of you have grown closer recently.”
If only that were true. Max and I had never been further apart than we were now.
Once again, because of Dominic.
I’d been wrong. He would choose Max over me.
He had.
He hadn’t wanted to stay and fight for us. For me. It was just as Max had said—Dominic could say whatever he wanted, but his actions proved how he truly felt.
“I tried to insist you’d be upset, but they said you wouldn’t be,” Mum said. “Seemed pretty adamant about it, actually. Where have you been, anyway? At a girl’s house?”
“They were right,” I said, my voice oddly calm as I ignored her question. “I’m not upset.”
Upset was too big a feeling to deal with. Anger though? That was easier. I let it burn through me, wishing I had an outlet for it.
How could Dominic just…leave? Had everything he’d said last night been a lie? Had everything between us been a lie?
That was when I realised I did have an outlet for my anger. I couldn’t yell at Dominic, but I could yell at someone else. Someone who’d hurt him. Whose actions had set this whole fucked-up train in motion.
‘ Another few months in that house might kill me. ’
Through the haze of anger surrounding me, I was vaguely aware of kissing Mum’s head. Of telling her I’d be back soon.
Then I was out of the house.
And I was running again.
I’d never felt fury like this before. It wasn’t hot. No, it was like ice. Freezing me in this moment, threatening to never let me leave it.
I’d never been to Dominic’s house before. He always came to ours. And I knew why. It wasn’t that he didn’t want me in his space.
It was that he couldn’t stand to be there himself.
I didn’t give a shit about the time now as I hammered on the front door. Didn’t care that I was likely disturbing the neighbours. I knocked and shouted as loud as I could, refusing to stop until the door finally swung open under my fist.
“What the fuck d’ya think you’re doing?” Dominic’s dad glared blearily at me.
For a moment, I was too stunned to speak.
It was like looking at a warped version of Dominic.
A version he might become if he spent the next couple of decades actively running his life into the ground.
His dad’s eyes were rimmed in red, massive bags underneath them.
Stubble covered his face, and not the designer kind Dominic sometimes wore;the kind that suggested his dad couldn’t be bothered to shave.
Ratty, stained pyjamas hung off his rail-thin frame.
I knew he was only in his forties, but he looked decades older.
I reeled back a step, not in fear, but because of the rancid smell of his breath. “Me? What the fuck doyou think you’re doing? Where do you get off, treating your son like that?”
“Get fucked,” his dad muttered, trying to close the door. “And fuck off before I clock you one.”
The ice in my veins deepened. I wasn’t scared of him. I probably should have been, but there was no room in me for fear. There was no room for anything other than anger.
I shoved my foot against the doorframe, not even wincing when the door slammed into it. “No.”
“Whatever.” Dominic’s dad turned his back and stumbled down the hallway. From how he ricocheted off a wall, he wasn’t sober, even now. “Don’t have time for this shit.”
“Well you’d better make time,” I seethed, following after him. When I looked back on this, I’d probably question where my courage had come from. “Do you even know what you’ve done?”
“Nope.” He burped, cracking open a can of Stella. “Can’t say I give a fuck either.”
Up until last night, I’d never punched anyone. Now, I was having to fight myself to not lamp Dominic’s dad. “Dominic’s gone. Because of you.”
“He’ll be back. He always comes back.” He took a swig of beer. “He likes to go off and have a sulk, but it doesn’t stop him reappearing.”
“Not this time,” I said through gritted teeth. It didn’t surprise me that Dom hadn’t told his dad his plans either. Having met the prick, I didn’t blame him. “He’s signed up. Gone off to join the army.”
His dad blinked, his eyes suddenly clear. “He’s done what ?”
“That’s right,” I continued. “Dominic’s gone and he’s not coming back.”
He’s not coming back.
The pain rose like a tidal wave, threatening to pull me under. I used the anger to hold it back. It wouldn’t last forever, but I’d tread water for as long as I could. “He’s not coming back, because of you .”
He took another glug of beer, nodding slowly. “Good. That’s good. He’s nothing but a waste of space. Maybe the army will teach him some discipline.”
I was across the kitchen in a second. It took almost no effort to shove his dad back against the wall. My arm went over his windpipe, pressing hard. “Dominic is ten times the man you could ever hope to be.”
His dad grunted. “Move your arm, kid, before I break it.”
I pushed harder. “Fuck you. I’m not scared of you. You’re three sheets to the wind and it’s not even six a.m. It’s no wonder Dominic left.”
“Don’t try and lecture me. You know fuck all about our lives.”
“I know more than you think. I know you’re a waste of space who cares more about where his next drink is coming from than putting food on the table. I know you blame Dominic for his mother’s death. That you wish he’d died instead.”
If his face weren’t so similar to Dominic’s, I might’ve missed it. The flicker of guilt that implied his dad wasn’t as unaffected as he was pretending to be.
“Now he’s chosen a career where he might actually die,” I ground out. “All because he couldn’t see how else to get away from you. You made his life a living hell, and if he dies because of it, you’ll have to spend the rest of your miserable life knowing it was your fault.”
I let him go. He sank to the floor, staring up at me, dumbfounded.
I shook my head in disgust as I surveyed the room. The endless mounds of rubbish. Dishes caked in mould. “It’s no wonder Dominic couldn’t wait to escape this place. What kind of life are you leading?”
“The only kind I know,” his dad choked out. A tear slid down his face, but it didn’t evoke sympathy or pity. If anything, I was glad he was suffering. Suffering the same way he’d made his son suffer. Good. “Nothing’s worth living now that Sally’s gone.”
“Your son is worth it!” I roared, spittle flying. “Your son. Dominic was a goddamned child who lost his mother. Instead of being there for him, you killed his father too.”
His dad blinked in confusion. “I’m still here.”
“You are, but you’re not his father.” Disgust dripped from the words. “No father tells his son he wishes he was dead. No father lets his child go hungry. No father puts himself before everyone else.”
I crouched so I was eye level with him. “You weren’t a father to Dominic, and thanks to your actions, now you don’t have a son. He won’t ever come back to you unless you sort your fucking life out.”
In reality, I doubted Dominic would ever come back here. I wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t.
“You’re pathetic,” I continued. “And you know what? I’m glad your wife is dead. If she were alive, she’d hate you for what you’ve become. She’d despise you for how you’ve treated Dominic.”
The can in his hand crumpled. “You don’t know anything about Sally.”
“No, but I know her son,” I told him, just as I’d once told Dominic. “He’s caring, loving, and so bloody protective that he’d throw himself into the line of fire to save someone he loved.”
Please don’t let him actually do that.
I got to my feet, glaring down at his dad. “Seeing as he didn’t get those traits from you, I know they came from his mum. Which means she’d be just as disgusted with you as he is.”
His dad stared off into space, his body limp. When he spoke, there was no heat behind his words. “Get the fuck out.”
This time, I listened. Not because I gave a shit what he wanted, but because I was done. I’d said my piece. I doubted it’d have any impact, but at least I’d tried.
Maybe one day, if Dominic did come back, his dad would realise his son’s true worth.
Or maybe neither of those things would happen. The one certainty I had was that Dominic was gone.
He was gone. All along, he’d had his plans. Plans that had never included me.
It was time I worked out what my own would be.