OUT

Chapter 57

Friday, May 22nd 2015

'Jack! Jaysus, good to see you. I was starting to think you'd had second thoughts.'

He stood facing his father, who had lost a considerable amount of weight since Jack had last seen him. Not in a bag way, though. For the first time in a long time, he looked well. Maybe he had come off the drink afterall.

'Well, con's atá tú?'

'Go maith, a mhac. Come in,' he said, and Jack followed him into the kitchen.

The place was surprisingly tidy considering his mam wasn't around to clean up after everyone. Molly, their dog, was lying in her basket in the corner of the kitchen, and although she didn't leave it, her tail wagged frantically at the sight of Jack.

'She's getting old,' his father said, 'thought I'd move her inside.'

His mother would hate the fact that the dog was indoors. She had always insisted that no animal would cross the threshold of their house, especially the kitchen, even if there was a blizzard outside.

'She's a good girl,' Jack admitted, petting her on the head and kissing her nose.

'Aye...I voted Yes by the way,' he said suddenly, like he had been meaning to say it since he opened the door but couldn't. Jack smiled. He didn't know what he expected his father to vote. He hadn't given it much thought to be honest. But it still felt nice. It was a simple gesture, but it meant a lot.

'Thanks.'

'Look, all I care about is that you're happy. And if you're happy, I'm happy. You're my son, Jack. And I know I don't say it enough, but I love you. And I accept you, even if I don't fully understand it. You're my only son, and I support you no matter what.'

'Thanks,' Jack felt awkward. He had gotten a bit more used to affection from his friends, but for this to be coming from his father, it felt weird. Uncomfortable, albeit appreciated.

'Fadhb ar bith, a mhac. Tea?'

'Go on.'

Jack sat at the table as his father brought the kettle to a boil on the Agga. He couldn't help but pity his father. Farming was an unforgiving lifestyle as it was, but to have to do that while going through what he did with Jack's mother, and Mick's suicide, must have been unbearable. He certainly understood why his father had turned to the drink. He probably would have too.

His parents met in their late teens and were together since their early twenties. It must have been tough being abused by someone you had practically grown up around, and spent all your adult life with. For so long, Jack thought his father was weak. A pushover. But knowing what he knew now, and how much physical and mental torture he probably went through at the hands of his mother over decades and decades of marriage would've taken serious resilience.

'Milk?'

Jack nodded, watching his father slide the brick that held their fridge door closed across with his foot.

'Still haven't got that fixed?' Jack asked, although he was happy his father hadn't.

'D'ya know what, a mhac? I think it adds character to this place.'

'I think so too,' Jack admitted, smirking a little.

There was something hilarious about it.

'And part of me loved using it as a way to piss her off, as my little way of getting my own revenge.' He smiled, but it wavered as he looked at Jack. 'I'm so sorry. I should've protected you more. I should've stood up to her.' His father's eyes had glazed over, and Jack stared at him in silence. He had never really seen his father express any emotion much throughout his life. His house had been a fairly cold and affectionless environment growing up, especially after Mick's passing, which was probably why Jack found it so hard to express his emotions. He wasn't really sure how to react.

'It's OK. You were battling your own demons with her,' Jack said honestly, as his father placed a mug of tea down in front of him in a KitKat mug he had gotten in an easter egg years ago.

'I remember I used to wake up to her hitting me in my sleep. She used to throw freezing water over me and the bed in the middle of the night too sometimes. I put up with it for too long, but I was afraid of losing you. I thought, surely it's always the mother that gets the child. And I had already lost one son...but the judge has granted a barring order against her, so she won't be able to come near me for the next five years.'

'Good,' Jack said pitifully, almost feeling like his father had become the dependent between the two, reliant on Jack for comfort as though he was the parental figure, 'I'm sorry.'

Then his father gave him a hug and while Jack appreciated the affection, he sat motionless with his arms by his side for a moment. He had never been hugged by his father, or at least had no memory of it. For a second, he didn't know how to react. Eventually, he embraced his father awkwardly, and the two of them remained silent.

The two of them sat in silence and drank their tea, and while it was slightly weird for a moment, there was a strange comfort in it. Sitting in his kitchen, with his father, and childhood dog, at peace. His father finally knew the truth about him, and didn't care.

He glanced around the room and noticed some of the pictures on the walls had been changed. His mother was no longer present in any of them, instead his late brother Mick was. This was also something his mother would never have allowed. She didn't want to acknowledge what had happened, because she didn't want to admit that her household and the environment she had created within it had probably contributed to what happened to her eldest son.

'Where did you get them?' asked Jack.

'I kept a shoebox full of you and Mick's stuff from when you were kids; baby shoes, photos, report cards from primary school...Your mother took most of my stuff and binned it whenever she got her hands on it, but she never found that box.'

Jack got his feet and approached one of the photos. It was a picture of Jack on his first day of primary school. He was standing in the kitchen doorway with Mick, who was also clad in the same uniform, holding Molly in one hand who couldn't have been older than a few months old. Mick was staring at the camera, but toddler Jack was staring at him.

'I miss him,' Jack uttered, 'more and more lately.'

'Me too, a mhac. Me too.'

Jack stared at his brother's innocent face. He must have been about ten in the photo. It was weird to see him at that age, because in Jack's memory he was much older. He was practically a baby in this, with his whole life ahead of him. It made Jack sad to think about how different his life could have been had Mick still been part of it.

'I found the key for his room...Mick's.'

'What?'

'Your mother had it in one of her jewellery boxes. I haven't been able to yet, but you can go have a look if you like?'

Mick's room had been locked by their mother that week he had died and had remained shut since. Jack couldn't even remember what it looked like anymore.

He nodded, and headed upstairs.