Knowing 12 - Boys of Tommen

2.

patrick

My mind was scrambled during morning practice. I could barely keep my head on my shoulders, much less my focus on the game at hand. Cap doesn't let much escape his notice when it comes to rugby, he was no more lenient today.

"Pack it in, 12!" He yelled, after I missed a perfectly good throw. He swiped the rugby ball off of the ground and threw it up field, shooting me daggers with his eyes.

Kav shouldn't be playing with our mediocre team, he should be playing with men. But I respected him and his drive. It didn't matter that I didn't have the same passion for rugby as him, I tried to put my all in when I stepped on the pitch, but today I was just off.

Yesterday I had to cancel my plans with the guys. This wouldn't be the first time. The farm was slipping and at this point I didn't know if it was worth it. No matter how much effort I put in it's borderline pointless. My Dad couldn't care less, even as he's slowly dying, he couldn't give a shit about me.

He was sick, got diagnosed with liver failure sometime last year. I wish I could say I didn't see it coming but I would have to be blind and deaf not to notice that my father was a drunk. Maybe it didn't used to be that way when my sisters were still in the house but it had always been that way for me.

He went through treatment but he was no better, he was getting worse. My Mom was trying to hide it from me but I was no idiot. I could handle a lot more than they would ever know. I was angry at them, both of them, but I didn't have the energy to show it.

Practice went on and the rain started to pour down on all of us. Cap was shouting out orders and half the team wasn't listening. In my mind I was nowhere near the pitch, solely focused on my father's words.

Yesterday was a bad day, one where he realized just how little time he had left. My Dad wasn't an angry guy, he was just generally disinterested. I did everything to make him take notice of me when I was younger. I always helped him with things around the house. I never talked back or caused problems at school. I started playing rugby a little later than the other guys but quickly caught up to their level. My Dad never wanted me to play but I got to the point where I was tired of seeking his approval.

I replayed the events of last night, while trying to focus on Caps words.

"Get in here, boy!" he yelled, slamming his hand against the wall.

I made my way down the stairs, not quick to uphold whatever demand he would make of me this time.

"You need to go wash the horses and clean out their pins."

"I already did." I say, keeping my distance. I can smell the alcohol.

My mom would be out of her mind if I told her about this.

He gripped his abdomen and winced as he stood up.

"Well find something useful to do, there's always work to be done, boy."

His grey hair is balding and his skin is blotched and weathered by his old age. He heads into the kitchen and looks out of the window. He never has a pleasant look on his face. Well, only when one of my sisters show up.

I trudge out of the door and catch the look that he throws my way.

He thinks I don't know.
I do know.
He would remember the words he spewed at me if he wasn't drinking his life away.

I'm back on the pitch and I just overthrew a ball. The rain is beating down on my face, soaking through my jersey and my hair. I run my hand through the mess and try to catch a breath.

"What's up, lad?" Hugh says, catching my attention as he sprints past me. Kicking up dirt in his wake, it's splattered over everyone.

"Just tired." He doesn't stop watching me, trying to catch my eyes.

"I'm grand," I finally say as another balls flys past me, one I should have caught.

"Do you want to be here! I sure as fuck would love to go home if no one is going to put in the work!" He addresses everyone but his eyes shoot to me, searing me deep.

But it's what I need to hear. I push all of the thoughts out of my head and keep my mind in the game. Until all I think and breathe is the next pass and catch of the ball.

...

When we all file into the locker room, pulling our soaked jerseys over our heads, Hugh claps me on the shoulder.

"Come on, what is it? I've never seen you so thrown."

I look at Kav across the room, talking to Gibs, no doubt about the shit performance I just showed.

"The old man." I say as an explanation, he nods in understanding.

Hugh doesn't exactly know everything. He doesn't know about the sickness.

But he does know it's strained between the two of us. My parents had me when they were older, all of my sisters were pretty much grown, and then I came alone. The mistake.

He knows my Dad drinks and that's why I don't like partying with everyone else all of the time. I've always been the designated driver, the responsible one, the patient one, quiet Feely. Hugh knew the most about me of all the guys but he didn't know it all.

"Out of his head?" he asked, while running a towel through his blonde hair.

"Yeah." I answer, sitting down on the bench to slug my rugby cleats off. My legs are smudged with mud and bits of grass.

"It looks like we'll be here for a while, waiting for the showers to clear." Hugh says, gesturing to the fourth years hogging the showers.

I rest my head against the lockers, thinking about the long day ahead of me. I'm already tired.

...

i hate writing the first few chapters but don't worry it's going to get better.