Chapter 19 Classic Paddy #2
“Christ, is that why you drew the giant penis in the field?” She tries to hold it back, but a laugh roars out of her.
An involuntary smile breaks on my face. “You think that’s so funny?”
“Well, I didn’t at the time, no.” She wipes under her eye. “I don’t know how many times I had to talk your father out of sending you to military school for that.”
I smile again, this time of my own accord. “I wish he had.”
She looks up at me. “Why?”
I shrug, knowing I’m about to tell her what’s eating away at me. “If I’d been there, I wouldn’t have ended up losing everything, would I?”
Mum sighs, taking a sip of her tea. “Then I’d never see you.” She sips her tea again. “What is it that you think you lost?”
“My home. My girlfriend. Maybe my job.” There’s no way to sugarcoat it.
I watch Mum process what I just said. “I want you to know, this will always be your home.” She taps her finger on the table.
“I may have only seen it once, but that flat, however nice, wasn’t ever going to be your forever.
And I don’t know that you’re really missing that girl you had, son.
From what Fi told me, she was a royal you know what. ”
Listening to her, something cracks open inside me. “You spoke to Fi?” Proof that they care has guilt rising like a wave in my throat, forcing it to burn. I should have been here more.
She nods. “I needed to know you were okay.”
“I am,” I lie, shaking my head, wondering what on earth Fi might have told her, and also hating myself for causing them worry.
“Paddy.” Mum sucks in a breath. “You’re a sensitive boy when it comes down to it—”
“For crying out loud, Mum. Make me sound pathetic, why don’t you?”
“Let me finish,” she sighs.
I sit back in my seat, conceding.
“You have always prided yourself on being the person people turn to when they need something. Whether it’s a laugh, a shoulder to cry on or just needing a friend, you have always been that man.”
I unlock my jaw. “Or a blow job?” I joke, making her laugh. That’s a sound I like to hear.
“Or one of those, yes,” she chuckles, rubbing her head like she’s trying to erase the thought. “It came as no surprise to me that you wanted to become someone who cares for people, son. And it certainly didn’t shock me when I heard that you had a girlfriend that had moved in with you so quickly.”
I nod, leaning my elbows on the table to mirror Mum. “It was fast,” I agree.
Mum taps my arm. “But that’s you all over.” She gets up from the table and flicks the kettle on again. “Only, you’re never like that with one person.”
My eyebrows arch, seeing right through her. “What are you getting at?” I ask anyway.
She turns to face me, hesitating before she says in a rush, “Morgan. You’ve always been so caring and attentive with that girl, even when you were younger.”
I wait for her to elaborate, tilting my head.
“You really like her, don’t you?”
My lips part to protest, but I can’t. “So what if I do?” I mutter, heart rate spiking, admitting my feelings towards Morgan out loud for the first time ever. I’ve only just admitted it to myself, so this feels weird.
She lifts her hands. “I’m pleased for you.”
My head lands in my open palms. I’m suddenly exhausted. The early hour catching up with me where I’m out of practice.
I listen as Mum potters around the kitchen, only moving when she places another cup of tea on the table before she comes and sits beside me. “Is that where you were tonight? With her?”
I exhale and lift my head. “She asked me to pick her up. I took her home.”
Mum’s eyes bounce between mine, seemingly satisfied. “And you were happy driving her? In your car, I mean.”
Fuck.
My heart jumps to my throat. She doesn’t need this stress. “Why wouldn’t I be?” I ask with a glance away from her, like this is just a normal chat.
She leans forward and rests her hands over mine reassuringly. Waiting. Not pushing. Not pressing me. “I don’t know, son. That’s why I’m asking.”
My breathing quickens. My gaze shifts to the table.
Mum watches me. That quiet, piercing way how she used to when we were kids. She cares, but she’s worried. “Patrick,” she says softly, only using my name but with it, letting me know she’s not dropping it.
“How do you know?” Because I haven’t burdened her with this. I haven’t given her any cause for concern when it comes to me.
When I peer up, she looks at me like she’s sorry for me.
Sorry that I’ve been stupid enough to have believed my own mother wouldn’t realise I’ve been struggling.
“I’ve seen you avoid having anyone in your car since you’ve been home.
I could hear you, you know, being sick in your toilet after you got back. ”
Her sympathetic face causes my stomach to constrict. I thought I’d hidden it well enough. Obviously not. “You did?”
She nods. “The only thing that can make my boy sick is his fear. So I’ll ask you again, son. What’s got you drinking whisky in the early hours of the morning?”
Choking on my resolve, I’m unable to swallow down the words rushing out of me like I normally do. “I got a man killed.”
My mother’s eyes glisten.
I want to rewind time and take the words back as I watch her eyes then fill. But with every second that ticks away, and the longer the truth remains out there, instead of the world falling apart, nothing happens.
I breathe in, relief soaking me, then out, as regret swiftly follows.
Because now she knows.
There’s no going back.
I can’t carry this anymore.
I have to tell her everything.
“He was a drunk who had two kids and used to treat the women in his life like shit. I was friends with him before I started hating being around him.”
“Did you know him well?” Her voice barely works.
I pause before I say, “It was Hannah’s brother.”
Her eyes close, tears running tracks over her cheeks. “Is that why she left?”
I nod, but she can’t see me. “She blames me for him dying. Which she should.” My words catch in my throat.
Her eyes open slowly. “Why?”
Swiping at my eye, I finally confess, “Because I was driving him home after finding him on the side of the road after my shift.” Jesus Christ, I can’t believe I’m sitting here, reliving the accident in detail.
My hands shake. I have no idea how Mum’s going to take this.
“He started arguing with me about how I was taking over his family.” My throat rattles.
Taking in air gets harder. “I wasn’t doing that.
I was trying to look out for them.” My voice eventually cracks, same as my heart.
“I know you were, love,” Mum agrees without fully knowing what it was like, her arms wrapping around me as I let my head drop.
I explain through my agony. “He hated that Hannah would come to me when she needed something, or if his girls didn’t want to stay with him. He blamed that on me, but, I mean, how could you blame them for not wanting to be around him? They were young, and he should have done better by them.”
I lift my head and dry my eyes, Mum’s hands loosening their hold. Taking a sip of my drink, I keep unravelling my story like it’s a tightly woven ball of string. With every word, I feel the weight lessen slightly; the words flowing more easily.
“He was pushing me, and the angrier I got, the faster I drove.” Daggers cut me at my core, the pain sharp and blinding. “I only wanted to scare him. But I lost it, Mum.” I picture his face when my foot hit the floor, letting the pain back in. “I fucking lost it.”
Mum’s grip on me is vice-like. She remains silent while I battle my demons, letting them run havoc.
Eventually, I swipe under my nose, unclenching my jaw. “After hitting ninety, I realised what I was doing. I saw the danger I was putting us both in and I slammed on the brakes, but it didn’t matter. Aaron grabbed the wheel, making me lose control of the car.”
Mum sags and her breath escapes on a ragged sob.
Breathing deep and slow, I manage to look her in the eye, releasing a wounded growl. “He knew what he was doing when he grabbed the steering wheel. But I went off the road, and the car spun, only stopping when it collided with a tree on the other side of the bank.”
“Oh my God,” Mum weeps, both hands coming to cover her mouth.
“I think I read about that in the paper. That was you? Why didn’t you tell me?
” Her cries are broken, and I know I’ve made her feel terrible.
She would have been there for me in a heartbeat.
But I had done wrong, and the guilt… it ate away at me like nothing I’ve experienced before.
I couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t eat. Couldn’t focus.
She didn’t need to see me like that.
My heart pounds so loudly remembering my colleagues arriving on scene. Aaron was pronounced dead, and I was taken to hospital with scrapes and a concussion. Fucking concussion. That’s it. It doesn’t seem fair that he died while I walked away unscathed.
“Paddy. You’re lucky to be alive.”
“Please,” I desperately ask of her, my head swimming as I remember the smell of fuel and smoke. “Don’t say I’m lucky. I should have died right there alongside him.”
She steels her spine. “But you didn’t, Patrick.” Wiping her eyes, Mum begs me with one simple look not to take the blame for this. I can see it as clear as day.
“I’ve already blamed myself, hated myself, tortured myself over and over again. I don’t think I know how to stop.”
She shakes her head, eyes filled with tears once more. “I…” She swallows before continuing, “I think you did the right thing taking time off work.”
I raise a small smile to myself. “They actually suspended me on medical grounds.”
Her head drops. “I should have known you’d never walk away.” She glances towards the patio window, our reflections looking back at us in the tall glass. “When does that end?”
“I met with Tom when I went home—back to London—” I quickly correct myself. “I asked for a few hours to keep me busy, which he seemed happy about, but it isn’t his decision to make. There’s another investigation before my return-to-work meeting. I’ll have to wait.”