All I hide

Chapter 4

Instead of heading straight back home, I take a detour and go to the park. It's usually busy with all the neighbourhood children playing and running around but since it's a Monday afternoon, everyone is still at work or school. I let the cool November air calm my mind and try to just appreciate the nature around me. The trees are almost bare now, only a few scarce leaves stubbornly holding on. I guess they're like me in a way. It would be so much easier to let go and be free, seeing where the wind takes us, yet we refuse. Except that I don't know which one would mean I'm giving up. If I let go will I be succumbing to my feelings or will I be no longer letting them control me? Why is this so confusing?

I stop by a bench facing the lake. The water is unmoving, quietly biding its time as if it has no worries. I wish I could do that. I wish I could not have to care so much or feel so much or stress so much. If only my biggest worries were about my studies or what to wear or forgetting to wash my hair, and not about Alex learning the full truth of what happened or Dad deciding to come back.

My gaze crosses the lake to the tree on the hill. Alex and I played there all the time. Sometimes Catherine and Jacob would join us. Other times Mum would invite Anja and her kids. It was so much easier when we didn't know. We were blissfully unaware and just happily playing together like children do. Why did it have to come crashing down?

I'm at my desk finishing my homework while John is lying on my bed, browsing on his phone. A car pulls up in the driveway and I smile as my father gets out. He's home early today.

"My dad's home," I tell John then head downstairs to greet him. What I'm not prepared for is my mother's distraught expression as she sinks to the floor, a shocked Anja looking between them before she helps my mother up.

My father is staring at both women, his expression unreadable as he wipes his hand across his mouth. He seems to be lost for words, not knowing what he's supposed to say.

"Dad?" They all turn to me and this confuses me more, my fourteen-almost-fifteen-years-old self knowing something is extremely wrong but unsure what. "What's going on?"

"Dad?" It's John's voice. I didn't realise he'd followed me.

Wait. Dad? But this is my father.

"Anna come! I want you to meet my dad." Alex and Anna come running from the living room and stop short when they see all of us.

"Alex this is my dad," Anna laughs, her five-year-old mind not comprehending the gravity of the situation.

"But he's my dad too," Alex says quietly, his gaze dropping to the floor. He releases Anna's hand and takes a step away from her.

Anja nods her head at John and he picks Anna up then puts his hand on Alex's shoulder. "Let's play in the garden. Sam you too."

I follow them without a word, not looking at any of the adults.

Once we're outside, I force myself to smile and laugh, playing silly games with Anna and Alex. John does the same. Neither of us talk about what just happened. The crying and shouting inside the house gets louder but we keep playing, keep laughing, keep smiling.

Nothing is wrong. Everything is fine. We totally weren't being lied to our whole lives.

To this day, neither of us have addressed the issue. He's tried so many times but every time I had somewhere else to be or something else to do. Maybe I should've agreed to speak to him today. He's right. How much longer will I keep avoiding him? It's unfair to him and hurting both of us.

Moreover, Aunt Kathleen hasn't denied Alex or me a relationship with Anja's family. She acknowledged that they were good to us and Anja wasn't to blame. In fact, she's become pretty close to Anja recently. It's all me. This distance and coldness is all me. Another thing that's my fault.

Why is this so hard? Objectively speaking, if I take all the feelings out, this is simple. Talk to him. Acknowledge that I need help and am struggling alone. Stop pretending that all is good. Maybe go find my father and talk to him too.

It's not so simple when feelings are involved though and at the moment my feelings are what make this all matter. Had I not felt anything, I wouldn't have cared. I wouldn't have put Alex before myself and kept my promise to Mum to be there for him no matter what. I wouldn't be so hurt and angry thinking about what Dad did. I wouldn't be hating myself for giving Mum those damn bottle of pills.

There's a faint rumble in the sky, grey clouds beginning to weep as if they can sympathise with my turmoil. The raindrops are like soft cool kisses on my skin but I should go home before it gets heavier. Leaving the park, I make a quick pace, keeping my head down and pulling my coat tightly to my chest. The splash of rain on the concrete and the rushing of cars and people distract me from my thoughts. Though the walk is only fifteen minutes, it's fifteen minutes of peace. Fifteen minutes of absentmindedness as I focus on the sounds around me and the journey I'm making, blocking out everything else.

Only Catherine is home when I walk through the front door. She's sitting at the kitchen table with her earphones in as she works on cutting out something for her journal. It's a hobby she's had ever since she first learnt about it. Maybe I should find a hobby.

I go to the fridge and take out a bottle of water, leaning against the worktop as I drink it.

"John stopped by earlier," she says carefully, stopping what she's doing to gauge my reaction.

"Oh? What for?" I try to keep my tone neutral.

"He dropped that off for you." She points to a parcel on the worktop behind her.

Nod and act like this doesn't hurt. Don't show that you still care about him. Don't show that the guilt has been hitting you harder recently and all you really want to do is run away from it all.

"Sam have you tried talking to him? He seemed pretty upset."

Of course he did. We were best friends before finding out we're related and instead of working through it together I ditched him. I'm horrible...and selfish. So so selfish.

"Sam-"

"I'll talk to him," I cut in, going to the opposite worktop to grab the parcel.

"Sam, I didn't mean..."

"I know. I know but I should talk to him. You're right." I give her a smile then leave the room.

I don't open the parcel when I get upstairs. I collapse on my bed and try to block it all out. It's too much. The weight of this struggle is too much and for once, letting it crush me doesn't seem like a bad idea.