Before We Say Goodbye

Chapter Eighteen - Fail

Chapter Eighteen - Damon

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So I was thinking today we could go to the park, what do you say?”

I shrug.

He’s got some nerve, pretending like everything’s just fine. That guy just spent the last couple of months drinking and leaping at every chance to be away from us.

What’s with the sudden change of heart?

“Come on. You, me and Paul. Just like old times.”

I don’t want to.

But he’s your dad.

I don’t want anything to do with him.

Give him another chance.

“No, thanks,” I say coldly.

“Don’t be like that, son,” Dad pleads. “I know I’ve not exactly been the best person lately, but you have to understand, it’s been quite hard for me – ”

I laugh aloud at this. “Been hard for you, has it?” I say through gritted teeth. “What about me, Dad? Eh? I’ve been walking round with a massive burn on my face, and I’ve had to put up with stares and cruel words and pointing, and where were you? Drinking beer at the pub with some mates, getting too drunk to drive home, and spending the night at your office. I can understand just how hard all that was for you – it really puts my suffering into perspective.”

He has the decency to look ashamed.

“I’m truly sorry, Damon, like I told your mum and Paul and even Maddie, not that she understood.” He grins wryly. “But I want to make it right, so please, come to the park for a kick about. Paul’s coming.”

I can’t let Paul go on his own, I guess.

“Fine,” I sigh.

Dad grins. “Good lad.”

I narrow my eyes.

This is going to be a big mistake.

Good lad.

*

“So, what’s been going down with my boys, eh?” Dad asks, football tucked under his arm.

“Nothin’ much,” Paul replies, pulling his phone out of his pocket and checking a text.

Dad leans over his shoulder, trying to read it. “Is that from your girlfriend, then? Charmaine, was it?”

Paul shakes his head. “Her name is Shirley, Dad.”

“Oh.” Dad’s face falls, and even in my anger at him, especially since he can’t remember his possible daughter-in-laws name, I can’t help but feel a twinge of pity stirring in my chest.

The truth is, he does regret his behaviour for the last few months. He was having it tough too, and we all react to different situations in different ways.

Maybe it’s got something to do with the fact that he followed me back into the house that night, but wasn’t fast enough to save me.

Or Tingo. My poor feathered friend, died that night.

Maybe I should be kinder to him. He risked his life for me, and maybe he didn’t manage to save me from the burns, but it’s the thought that counts. He tried his best, and in the months that followed, I never thanked him once.

I probably should.

Later. When I’m not so busy being pissed off at him.

“Hey, here we are,” Dad says brightly, dropping the football to the ground and starting to dribble across the grass.

I shiver, looking up at the cold grey sky.

“What’s up, guys?”

“The sky,” I whisper, out of habit.

The sky’s always up.

Sometimes I wish I was the sky. I wish I was up there, away from it all, instead of down here, where all my troubles and worries and fears know exactly where to find me. The sky has loads of friends, too – the stars, the sun, the clouds, the people flying in their airplanes. I’ve got none, other than Sophie and my family.

I like Sophie.

I should probably tell her.

Later. When I’m not so busy trying to thank and forgive Dad.

“Oi, Damon, Paul! C’mon!” Dad yells, waving us over.

I jog forward, and Paul follows reluctantly. Dad must’ve forgotten how much he hates football, then.

“Here, catch,” he says, picking the ball up and chucking it to Paul.

Yup, he’s forgotten alright.

The looks on Paul’s face would make my heart break – if I were soft.

But being a man, I ignore it.

It takes a lot of effort, but I do.

*

We sit in the Caramel Coffee Pot.

I think it’s a sucky name for a place that sells the most amazing caramel coffee, but whatever. Like I could come up with anything better, so I might as well shut up.

“Here you go, boys,” Marley smiles, handing us our coffees.

I ignore her. Dad and Paul thank her and pay. We take out caramel coffees elsewhere.

*

When we sit in the park, we sit in silence.

Dad tries to make conversations – about football, rap music and sports cars. The problem is, for everything he tries to make conversation about, either one or neither of us like. Football – I like it, Paul not so much. Rap music – it sucks. Enough said. Sports cars – I don’t give a damn about sports cars, although Paul is fairly interested.

Dad gives up when he realises he doesn’t really know anything about us anymore.

*

We go to HMV.

Dad gives us a tenner each. I buy a Blink 182 album, Paul buys a Hawk Nelson album. Dad looks shocked.

“What about the, y’know, the Chipmunk? The N-Dubz? The Snoop Dogg? The stuff that all kids listen to today?”

I give him a dirty look. “Don’t you know anything, Dad?”

*

He offers to take us to Jack Wills. If looks could kill, Paul would be doing time for murder. Me too, at that.

*

He asks us if we want to go to the cinema. We want to go home.

*

Today was a fail. Dad is a fail. I wish he would just go away and leave us alone. I know, I know…some people have it way worse than me and I should be grateful for what I’ve got, yada yada yada. But in my mind, all that is forgotten. All I can think about is how useless Dad is.

And I know he’s trying, but he shouldn’t have to try. He should just be ace without any effort.

Because he’s my dad.