“It’s not about that. It’s, you know, I need a man—”
“Bloody hell, Mum, then get yourself a dildo!” Her face tells me I may have gone too far. “I’m sorry. It’s just they’re all so vile. So unlike Dad.” And there is my issue with everyone she has been with since him. They’re not him.
“That’s why, Jake. Don’t you get it? There will never be anyone like him. I don’t want anyone else like him.” I’m blown away by her words. Her honesty.
“I get that, Mum, I honestly do. But you’ve got to have some self-respect. You deserve better. We deserve better. I don’t want you to spend your life alone, pining for Dad. I might have done a few years ago, I admit, but I want you to be happy. And you can’t tell me that you’re happy. Not with Jim.” There is a moment where I think I’ve finally got through to her, that she will let me help her sort her life out.
“What are you saying? I’ve got to get rid of him? You can’t go issuing ultimatums, you know. You’re not in charge here. I am.” Reluctant to end the discussion in an argument that sees me leave, for who knows how long this time, I relent a little.
“No, I’m just saying I love you and I worry about you.” I take a deep breath. “And I want to come back home. This is your house, Mum, not his. Please, say I can come back.” I know I’ll beg if I have to. It’s not just about Grace and Josh. It’s also about Mum. Maybe, if I’m around more, I can help her to see the light. Help her live again.
“You’ll need to apologise to him first.” What the hell? But then I view it as a test. This will prove how much I love her, love Josh and Grace. And prove to Dickhead that I’m the bigger, the better, man.
“All right. Does it have to be in person?”
“What?”
“Well, can I send a text? Write him a note?” Maybe he can’t read. I wouldn’t be surprised. “When is he back?”
“He’s not here tonight. I’ll send him a text telling him the next one’s going to come from you.” She picks up her phone and taps out her message before handing it over to me.
Jake wants to come back. PLEASE let him. He’s going to text u now x
Reading her words gives me the extra encouragement I need to do what I don’t really want to do.
Sorry for hitting you. Was having a bad day. Won’t happen again.
“Do I need to wait for permission from him or can I get my stuff?” For the first time in ages, my loaded question is answered with a confident voice.
“No, we don’t need his permission. You’ve done your part. And, like you said, this is my house. Go and get your stuff. I’ve got a pizza in the freezer, if you want it?”
“That will be great. Thanks.” I walk over and hug her. The strength of the hug she returns, and the way her arms stroke my back, bring tears back to the surface.
I leave to pick up my things from Bill’s, hopeful that things will get better.
Well, as good as they can get without Neve in my life.
Good?
Less bad?
Less empty?
Less.
Neve-less.
I woke up? pinned to the wall by Mickey’s not-so-small body. The intimate cosiness of sharing the single bed with Jake was just bloody uncomfortable with Mickey in there instead. Creeping my body along the wall was enough to stir him and he jumped up, almost giving me a black eye in the process.
“Where? What? Umm?” Mickey wasn’t a morning person, that was clear. His blinking eyes and confused face made him look like a mole, disturbed from his underground home.
“You stayed over, remember? After Seventh Heaven? After Garrett…” Mickey hadn’t had much choice about staying over, seeing as I begged him not to leave me, paranoid and alone. He reached out a hand and smoothed my hair.
“Oh, yeah. How are you this morning?” I didn’t know how to put it into words. Scared. Worried. Pissed off. All of the above?
“Glad I’m going home for the weekend. I need some space away from all things Garrett.”
“I know, honeybun. But I’m going to miss you.” His face twisted into the sad, pouty look of a five-year-old trying to get more sweets and I couldn’t help but laugh. “What time is your train?”
As I’d been feeling stronger, I’d told Mum and Dad that I could get the train home to save them the long return journey. Now I was faced with several hours of sitting still, trying not to think about what had happened last night.
“Two-thirty. And I’ve still got to pack before my class at eleven.” I got off the bed and stretched, feeling the pleasant ache of last night’s dancing. Looking at my arm, I could see the not-so-pleasant bruise from where Garrett had grabbed me.
“Let me help and I’ll leave with you. It’ll save me the walk of shame!”