Hello

Rough Justice

I pounded the hardy wooden door with my fist, the walls beside it vibrating with every strike. I was furious and my blood was fire.

"Open the goddamn door!" I screamed, hitting it harder. The door flew open and a woman almost identical to me stood in shock. Her white-blonde hair was as straight as a ruler, her eyes were Crystal blue and her jaw was square. She was 45 then and a complete stranger to the elegant beauty she was when she gave birth to me.

"Where is he?" I demanded, stepping into the house. My Scottish accent had returned in full-force.

"Oh, Ivory. You've grown up so much." She whispered, closing the door. Hearing my old name sent a shiver down my spine, not the kind I get when Roger... No. We simply cannot continue that sentence.

At 40, my biological father was the definition of a disappointment. He stalked out of the bedroom in jeans and a tank shirt, eyeing me like meat. His shaved head, his murderous green eyes, the cocky smirk. It all used to scare me as a kid.

"Next time you get sent to hospital for a drug overdose, make sure the nurse you attack isn't my best friend!" I yelled, folding my arms over my chest.

"Good to see you, dad. It's been so long." He mimicked my voice, completely ignoring me and walking into the kitchen.

"Don't you dare walk away from me, Terrance Porter! If you go near Vivienne or any of my family again, I'll tell the cops everything. Your attack against Vivienne is enough to get you in deep shit, where you belong! I'm sure all the drug and abuse charges will only make it easier for you to get bail."

"You tell the cops and I'll finish you off." Terrance threatened, obviously at a loss. He looked past me and to Angela at the door, furious.

"You have to do better than that. I'm not afraid of you anymore!"

That's where I made my mistake. I made threats. In a flurry of movement, he had come to my side of the bench and pinned me against the wall. Angela yelled from the other side of the room, begging for him to get off me. I struggled against his force, getting nowhere fast.

"Now you listen here, Ivory Quinn Porter. I've put you in hospital once, I'm not afraid to do it again. You made the decision to move out when you were 15, how about you stick to it. You wouldn't want our names bruising your pretty reputation, now would you?"

I remained calm because I knew he was right. I made the decision to be a different person, to take a different name. Ivory was the one bursting in and yelling, not Lucy. I stopped fighting him off and stared at him. He let go of me and walked away.

"Brian's my real father. You never loved me." I whispered. He swung around with a slap aimed for my cheek. Aimed, but poorly.

There are certain moments in life when you question how much your life has changed and whether or not to lie to your significant other.

I was shivering driving Roger's Mercedes. I hated being in control of such an expensive vehicle. The anxiety of travel was gone. My head was reeling, the wind was silent.

As I pulled into our driveway, I came to a stop and looked in our bedroom window. Roger had his back to me, Henry's head on his shoulder as he cried. I watched them for what seemed hours, stealing glances at the side of Roger's face when he turned to make Sure Guac was okay. It made me even dizzier to look at how I lived compared to this.

Roger turned completely and spotted me, gently grabbing Henry's hand and waving it. I waved in return, grinning at them. Roger disappeared from the window and I slowly rolled the Benz into its usual parking spot. When you walk into our garage/barn, there are two rectangles spray painted on the cement flooring. On the left, a yellow outline for Roger's Merc. On the right, blue for my BMW. I parked in the yellow and slowly got out. Closing the door gently, I decided to take a look around the room. I was only ever in here to get in or out of a car, so sightseeing was damn near impossible before.

Roger and I are photo collectors, me more than him. On my side of the parking spaces, half a dozen photo frames sat elegantly on the wall: Queen from every haircut era, photos from Live at the Rainbow, and one of my favourite photos of Roger ever taken; sitting behind his drum kit, grinning like a child, signature black sunglasses over his eyes. In his pyjamas, he didn't look like a rockstar. He looked like a regular goofball boyfriend. Walking away, I stopped next at the refrigerator and workbench. Roger wasn't exactly the most manly and coordinated handyman in the UK, so most of the mess was mine. I kept it unclean as a reminder to myself that not everything can be fixed and that it's okay. As I ran my fingers down the cold metal of the fridge door, a sound made me jump.

As tin cans crashed to the floor, I jolted and turned around. Roger was standing himself back up, picking up the mess as he went.

"Sorry, I didn't want to disturb you." He laughed as I walked towards the side door to greet him.

"Henry won't settle down. I think he just needs you. Your ear is really red, what happened?"

This was the moment I was dreading. Do I lie to him, make him feel like everything is fine? Or do I tell him the truth?

"Oh, I reckon I'm just getting sick again. Nothing too sinister." If there was an on-screen description of me at that very moment, it would probably read "Lucy Pakyl May, lying through her teeth". I felt disgusting. I had never lied to him before. Not like this. It's a revolting feeling. He looked at me with a frown, eyebrows knitting together.

"If you say so." He shrugged, hugging me. I stood up on my toes and hooked my head over his shoulder, feeling his head against mine.

"You love me, don't you?" I whispered, wrapping my arms around his neck.

"Of course. You're the most amazing person I know, no matter what."

"Even if I did something really stupid?"

"Babe, what did you do?" I released him, stepping back onto my flat feet. I put my fingers on my bottom lip and confessed everything that had happened. The rage in his face was instant and intense.

"I should drive over there myself and give him a good punch in the teeth." He grunted, pacing the cement floor of the garage. He was furious.

"Sweetheart, it won't change anything. It will only make it worse."

"He hurt you, Lucy! How can you expect me to stand back when someone hits you and damages your ear further? What will you do if you lose all hearing in it? What then?"

He paced faster, tempted to throw something across the room. I stood in front of him and he stopped, staring down at me. I didn't say anything, I just kissed him slowly.

"It's all gonna be okay. I promise."