Will We Talk?

49- Caught

Locating myself around with crutches in a shop, minus any help, was proving to be quite the challenge. It was just days until Zara and Zander's birthday, and I had to treat my god babies for their first birthday, but I'd not gotten anything for them yet. As much as they're entirely different, to make things easier for myself, I'd just planned to get them everything matching.

Sam was away in London doing press or something with the lads, so the lack of guidance meant finding my independence again. That's why I was struggling so much and embarrassing myself in the middle of the shops. It would be easier to just not have came out, but I was bored shitless and was losing my will to live- something that was slim prior to injuring myself.

Having a cast restrict my movement from the knee down was so difficult. I've been sleeping on the settee for the past four days, and Sam's actually been sleeping with me some nights. He's the perfect little skivvy. Except for the fact he's completely ditched me for a couple of days. But work's work, and I can't blame him for going along- no matter how much he'd been complaining to me about it for the weekend.

"What are you doing here alone missus?" a voice alerted me from behind.

I twisted my neck to see who was there, even though the sound of the voice was so obviously my dad. His eyebrows were furrowed and his lips were in a straight line. He wore the face he'd wear to tell my brothers and I off when we were younger. And that- let me tell you- remains petrifying to this day.

"Alreet dad? Fancy seeing you here." I spoke through gritted teeth, completely angered with myself that I forgot my own father worked here.

His lips formed a grin, "You're fooling no one, pet." he chuckled, "What do you need and I'll bring it along to yours after work."

"No, dad, I'm doing alright myself." I blatantly lied.

He laughed even more, "Tell that to my CCTV." he latched a cupped hand over my shoulder, "You're hurting yourself, you've just got to be patient."

"Aye well I'm not patient am I?" I snapped, "I'm getting the bairns their birthday presents."

"Are you? Here's the deal, I'll clock out of work and tek you to wor's. But first, I'll help you get the stuff." he offered.

It was a deal I'd have to take. My filter was wearing thin, and I felt like I could hit anything. My ankle was starting to hurt as I was due my next round of pain killers. It was a no-brainer.

I nodded, defeated, "Go on then. But can we go along the coast for ice cream?" I asked, genuinely wanting to spend some time with dad- which was something I didn't often receive.

"In this?" he pointed out of the windows toward the sound of rain slamming against the windows.

It wasn't often we had lush weather up north, and today wasn't one of those days, but I wanted to talk to my dad. I needed to talk to my dad.

*****

I'd sat myself on a bench, hood over my hair that was beginning to expand into it's natural state. Dad had eventually gave into me- like usual- and we found ourselves at Tynemouth. I was waiting for him to return with my ice cream.

The waves crashed against the sand, the colour of the water rather disturbing. The sand shuffled as the sea hit against it, making a loud clash as they collided. The rain dropped into the water, causing droplets to rise and drop back into the sea.

It felt normal. It felt soothing. It felt like home.

Dad being alongside me was a bonus.

"So," my dad started after taking a chomp of his ice cream, "why've you brought is here?"

"Wanted to spend time with my dad, why like? You not too keen?" I teased through licks of my ice cream.

He tutted and rolled his eyes, "I just mean its weird having you ask me to come out. Something's obviously up. What is it?"

"I'm just sick of it." I shrugged, my back contacting the back of the bench.

"Go on. I divnt kna what you mean kidda." he said, his nose scrunching up in confusion.

"Where do I start? Let's be honest." I chuckled dryly.

"At the beginning."

I looked at my dad who had made himself laugh, "Funny." I huffed, "Things are just strange now."

"Well, you've got a massive plaster on your foot, of course its gan be strange you doilem." he scoffed jokingly. I tapped my foot, not knowing what to say, but knowing exactly how I'm feeling. "Let it all out, love. I'm all ears."

"Reet." I sighed, "I'm working again, and I'm working with kids. I don't mind it like, but its just a reminder. A reminder of what I could've had. But, I feel like I should've moved on, and its so tempting to get back into old habits. I'd do anything for a night out alone and on the lash- gannin' absolutely overboard so I don't feel like utter shite."

He rubbed my soaking thigh, allowing me to continue however providing comfort to let me know he's there.

"Sam." I coughed.

"How is he?"

"Honestly, dad, I couldn't tell you." I smiled, looking up, not meaning my smile at all, "That's the problem. He doesn't even know how he is himself, and he doesn't tell me anything. We've had our fair share of disputes, but its just not getting in his head that we need to be able to talk. Even for two seconds, letting me know how he is."

"It's hard, y'kna, Eves." he defended Sam.

"Promise me, I know." I shuddered, "I'm the same."

"So what you complaining about him for then?"

"He's been proper distant, dad. Sometimes I feel like he's only with me for how I look. I know its a selfish way to think, but we barely speak about feelings. Its something you don't want to hear, but we're intimate more than we talk." I complained, feeling my throat bubble up, "I love him. I really... really fucking love him. And I don't want to let him go or risk owt, so that's why I don't talk to him."

"Oh, Evelyn." he soothed, allowing me to just cry.

"And this ankle. This bloody ankle. It's more restrictive than Joseph- believe it or not." I sniffed, "I'm so trapped. I'm sick of feeling like absolute shit. Sometimes, I don't even feel at all."

All the things I've thought are now out in the open. All the things I want to change. All of my problems. They were out there. And I felt slightly better through telling someone. Dad didn't have to say anything to help. I just needed to tell someone- anyone.

My shoulders were relaxed. My ankle stopped hurting as much as it did. My breathing was regular. I didn't want to drink. I wanted to talk. I didn't feel sick anymore.

A sun began to glimmer over the northern sea, offering as a glint of hope in life. The sun had a purpose. It wasn't one of those warm suns though, it was a wintery sun. A wintery sun in the early days of spring. The rain had packed in. My tears were dry. My tears were a mistake. My tears didn't have a purpose.

I felt better now.

Like a balloon that a child let go of, twirling buoyantly and floating itself into a better place. A better place than here.