Chapter 52
I walked along the beach.My ribs still ached but that was it. My other bruises and swelling had disappeared. What hadn’t disappeared were Max’s last words.
Jasmine wasn’t like my mother. She’d shown me that over and over again. The way she treated her children was nothing like I’d experienced. She’d protect them with her last dying breath. Whereas it had been my job as a child to protect myself and my brother. And the one day I did more than just play my father’s games was the one day I realised I could be just like him.
It was just my father, Steve and me sitting at the table. My mother was sick in bed. She hardly got up these days. Her chance of treatment was gone the day he stole the money that had been donated to her. Steve had cooked us dinner, but he’d made a mistake with the recipe.
“What the fuck is this shit?” my father yelled as he threw his plate. It hit Steve’s jaw and fell to the floor breaking into pieces. “You can’t even cook a simple fucking meal.”
He stood up and stormed toward Steve. Fear took hold of my heart. His tempers had become worse and worse over the past few months. I never knew what he was capable of anymore.
I shoved my chair back. It crashed onto the floor. Steve was holding his jaw. Blood was seeping through his fingers. I couldn’t get around the table fast enough.
“Don’t touch him,” I screamed.
My father paused for a moment. I’d never spoken out like that before. That pause was all I needed. It gave me time to take the last few steps to get between him and Steve. I stood eye to eye with my father. Size was the only thing on my side.
He punched me hard to the side of the head. I wobbled. I watched, stunned, as my father pulled Steve out of his chair. Steve’s eyes were round and full of tears. He was smaller than me. If my father punched him with the same ferocity as he had me, he could really do some damage.
I shook my head to clear it and pushed Steve away. Then I hit my father in the head, over and over again. I couldn’t stop. White hot rage filled my veins and powered my fists. I yelled at him as I hit him. I don’t even know what words I said. But they were pure hate. Sixteen years of pure hate escaped.
Blood spurted from my father’s nose and his eyes were swelling shut in front of me.
“Ethan, stop,” my mother said. Her soft voice stopped me mid-punch. “If you’d cooked instead of Steve, then your father wouldn’t be angry.”
As soon as the words left her lips, she collapsed. Steve went to her and tried to rouse her. But she was gone.
My father’s laugh was mirthless. “You idiots have killed your mother.”
Steve bowed his head as I stood in the middle of the room, my fists covered in my father’s blood.
Steve.I went to the office, logged into my computer and called him. His face came on the screen almost immediately. I shifted in my seat and winced.
He studied me. “Man, you look like shit. Did one of those sea lions attack you?”
I shook my head. “Jasmine’s ex came back.”
“Shit.” He moved closer to his screen like somehow that got him closer to me. A mere inch when we were thousands of miles apart was minuscule. “Are you OK? What about the others?”
“I’ll live. Cracked ribs are the worst of it.”
“And the others?”
“All OK. The kids got out to safety before he got into the house.”
“And Jasmine?” he persisted.
I sighed. “She’s OK. Thankful. Relieved. He won’t be getting out of jail anytime soon.”
The assault meant his parole had been revoked and he’d gone straight back to prison. Add these new charges and he’d be there for years.
“I wish Dad had gone to jail,” he said. “We might have lived in peace.”
I’d thought that once too. “Probably not. Mom would have brought another man into our lives, and it would have been the same.”
He nodded. “Gran and Gramps said that too.”
If only we had gone to live with them earlier.
“But Jasmine’s not like that,” Steve said.
That’s true. She didn’t need a man in her life to feel fulfilled. She didn’t need me. Now that Max was gone, she definitely didn’t need me.
“No, Jasmine is nothing like Mom.”
Steve watched me in the silence. “That’s a good thing, right?”
“Of course it is. Bailey and Rose feel loved and protected.”
“But what about you?”
“What about me?”
“Do you feel loved and protected?”
I shrugged. “What does it matter? I’ll be leaving in two months.”
Steve frowned. “Stop hiding behind the time.”
“I’m not.”
“Ethan.” His voice was firm. “We never lie to each other.”
I sighed. “I don’t know. I don’t know how serious she is.”
“How does she make you feel?”
Now or before? And why was it different now? Because of what a psychopath said? Or because of my deep-seated fears?
“I felt seen and understood.”
“Do you still feel the same?”
No lying, right? “No.”
“Why?”
“I’ve never felt loved like that before. I don’t trust it.”
“I love you.”
“You’re my brother.”
“It doesn’t mean I need to love you.”
I laughed. I’m sure at some point in our lives he didn’t love me.
He gave me the dad look he was a master at. “You need to talk to Jasmine. Tell her how you feel.”
I nodded.
“Maybe record it for posterity. You know, the day Mr Buried Feelings actually lets them out.”
“Ha ha. Funny.”
He waved me away. “Off you go.”
I walked back to the house. Jasmine was on the porch watching the kids and Timmy on the beach.
I sat beside her and took a deep breath. No point hiding anymore. “When I was younger my dad would go on rampages. Not all the time. Usually, he just resorted to mental abuse.” I reached for Jasmine’s hand. She gave it to me without hesitation.
Trust.
“Mom didn’t protect us like you protect Rose and Bailey. She always thought he’d changed. Every single time I could see it coming, and she didn’t.”
Rose and Bailey laughed at Timmy. The freedom in the sound warmed me. I held Jasmine’s hand tighter.
“I’d hide with Steve. Sometimes there wasn’t enough time for us both to hide, so I’d let him get away.”
I shivered. It would be twice as bad for me when that happened.
“Mom would always tell me it was my fault, and that I made it worse by trying to hide.”
I don’t know why you’d say that to a child instead of trying to protect them. I could try to turn things over in my mind. I’d done it a thousand times. But my mother’s actions never made sense.
“At first, I argued with her, tried to make her see reason. It made no difference. Then I stopped. I stopped sharing my thoughts and feelings. The only person I spoke to was Steve. I co-existed with everyone else on the basis that I had no choice.”
I still did. I knew now that I was the major contributor to the failure of my marriage. Audrey hadn’t had much to work with.
“My grandparents didn’t force me to share, so I didn’t. And I didn’t want to, until you.”
Now for the ultimate truth. It came pouring out. Every last moment of that fateful day. “I hit my father over and over again. Just like he’d done to Steve and me a hundred different times. And I didn’t want to stop. I was just like him.”
I’d just shared all of that but what was the point? They were just facts, a part of my history. I was supposed to share how I felt now. I sighed. What was the point? Honesty was the point. Love was the point. But I didn’t trust love. Not when the people who were supposed to love you didn’t.
I didn’t know what to say or where to start. So, I didn’t. I just sat there staring at nothing.
Jasmine squeezed my hand to get my attention. “Thank you for trusting me enough to share.” She paused, letting the words sink in. Trust. It was all about trust. “I’m sorry for not protecting you like you protected us.”
I hadn’t said all that for her to feel guilty. No wait, I needed to use my voice. Say the words out loud. “I didn’t tell you all of that to make you feel guilty.”
“I feel guilty every day for not stopping Max sooner. I didn’t want you to get hurt. I’d never want that. I love you too much. I don’t want you to ever feel that I wouldn’t sacrifice myself for you.”
I tried to grasp all of her words. But got stuck on one.
“I’m not sure I know what love is.”
She cupped my cheek. “Ethan, love is what we have. Two people who are scared but willing to try. Trusting each other not to give up. Sharing ourselves piece by piece.”
I nodded. “Love is us.”
She leaned over and captured my lips with hers. She kissed me gently. Her lips held promises I’d never even dreamt of. Touching parts of me I never knew existed.