In the Absence of Light

28

Isaac

"I don't agree with that," I tell Ivy. "My mum wouldn't have had to marry my dad if it wasn't for me."

"What do you mean?" she asks.

"She was 19. She met my dad in high school. They already had a kid together."

I can't believe I'm about to tell this fucking story. I swear I haven't even discussed it in years, not even with my sister. And here I am, practically confiding in someone I barely know, and its Ivory fucking Ferrari of all people.

I feel like such a fucking pussy.

"But they weren't together anymore?"

"Nah, he didn't want to be a father. He left my mum before my sister was even born. He just... came back a couple of years later," I shrug. "He said he'd changed his mind, that he wanted to be together as a family. My mum didn't want anything to do with him, but he eventually threatened legal action to get custody of my sister, and I guess that just scared her. So, my mum met up with him in a diner and, well... that's when it happened. He drugged her and she woke up naked in her bed."

"Shit."

"She went to the police but insisted he didn't do anything wrong—that they were a couple so he should be allowed to fuck her whenever he wanted."

"As if that makes it okay," she scoffs.

"Exactly. But the cops agreed, so they never took it further."

"They never do," she mumbles under her breath, but I don't think I was meant to hear her. I agree with her, though. Most cops are abusers themselves. And that's not just my opinion. It's a fucking fact.

"My mum got pretty depressed after that. She got into a car accident a few weeks later. She wasn't paying attention and drove into a tree. The ambulance took her to hospital, and that's when she found out she was pregnant," I explain. "She didn't want me, of course. But abortions were illegal, and she wouldn't have had the money to pay for one anyway. She was a foster kid, you know. She didn't have a family to fall back on. She was already couch surfing, working at Walmart just to get food on the table."

"Isaac..." she shakes her head. Is this too intense for her? She's lived a privileged-ass life. She'll never know what it's like for the other half—for people like me. She shouldn't be surprised, though. She's privileged, not sheltered. She must know shit like this goes on, and it's pretty fucking common, too.

"She didn't know what to do," I continue. She couldn't raise two kids on her own and work on top of that. But my dad was still trying to get custody, and he had a decent job at a car dealership. She didn't know how else to survive, so she gave into him. They got married months before I was even born."

"Shit," her eyes widen. "That's... a lot. I don't even know how you'd cope with all that."

"Do you see what I mean?" I ask. "It's my fault she had to marry him."

"No, it isn't," she frowns. "She could've sued him for child support."

I stifle a laugh. Is she joking?

"Come on, Ivy," I scoff. "Things aren't that easy. Maybe for you, but not for people like me. She couldn't even afford groceries, let alone a fucking lawyer."

She looks down. She looks almost ashamed of what she said. She shouldn't be, though. She was just trying to help. It's not like she can relate to what I'm telling her.

We come from completely different worlds. My family has never had anything. We've had to work for everything we've ever wanted—and not fancy-ass office jobs like her family. We do the dirty stuff. People like me are the cleaners and the labourers and chefs. We're the type of people Ivy and her family would hire. She comes from a world of luxury. She's never had to worry about money. She's always had more than enough, and always will. For people like me, that's a dream. We're lucky to have a thousand bucks in our savings. We don't have a safety net like she does.