Kings and Crowns [under editing/being rewritten]

Begin: Tom

Tom

A number of years ago, a man by the name of Howard Knight stumbled inside an empty diner at the edge of town. This diner closed promptly at eleven thirty each night, so the employees could clean up the day's mess and head home by twelve - when the new day would have already begun. Howard Knight was a tall man of six feet and some height. He took great likeness to his rather shiny brown hair, styled perfectly for any sudden occasion. He wore leather boots, loose black trousers, and a flannel shirt atop a Guns 'n Roses concert t-shirt. 

He walked inside the diner with a purpose - to find someone that could get him something to eat for the long car journey ahead of him. He had been travelling the great lengths of northern Ireland for nothing but a gleeful memory. He was the adventurous type; the type Louisa Lenox was quite attracted to. She had been the only one at the diner that night, while her co-workers had gone home. Louisa was young, hardly nineteen. She had taken one look at Howard and she had known - this was the man she would one day marry.

She was intelligent enough not to peg the idea to him too soon, especially as he drank his chocolate milkshake. They made small talk in a booth with him chattering restlessly about his various escapades while she listened intently. No one she had ever known was as crazy about living their life to its utter best than Howard was. He was different from the other men she knew and she liked that. 

She liked him enough to run away with him, too. 

"Your uncle Graham will look after ya, Tom." Dad said to me as he slipped into his winter coat. "He's excited to be takin' ya in." 

I wheeled myself over to the kitchen, pulling the refrigerator door open. I found the bottle of orange juice I was looking for and instantly downed it. I threw the cover back on immediately, placing the bottle back into its spot in the fridge. Dad never drank OJ anyway. I didn't have to worry about him taking a swig out of my bottle. "I don't understand why I've got to move in with Uncle Graham to begin with." 

Dad sighed, walking into the kitchen. He looked at me with sad eyes. "Ya want the truth?" 

"Yeah, Dad." 

He ran a hand through his dark hair, a complete contrast to my mother's curly blond locks. "I can't take care of ya anymore, bud. Between work and looking after ya, I can't do anythin' for meself anymore. I don't have a life anymore." 

I raised a brow. "So you're just giving me away?" 

"Not givin' away," he told me, though, I knew that's exactly what was happening, "Graham's always wanted a son and he's ready to take ya in. You'll be happier with him." 

"You know you're fucking mad, right?" I said, curling my fists. "Absolutely fucking mad." 

He nodded, like he knew. But he didn't. He doesn't know shit. "I'm sorry, Tom." 

Those were the last words other than 'goodbye' my father has said to me in a year. I'll sit by Uncle Graham's large bay window in the drawing room replaying those three words in my head sometimes when I miss him. It's disgusting that after all he's done, I still miss the bloody bastard. But the truth is, he's all I've got. After Mum died, he was all I had. And he wasn't all that bad for a few years. 

But then I got into an accident one night and everything between us changed.

He didn't look at me like I was his son anymore. Instead, I had replaced Tom Howard and in his place, put a disabled, mouthy know-it-all my father grew to hate. Or perhaps he has always hated me and I was far too blind to see it. 

One morning while I was having breakfast with Megan, Uncle Graham's third girlfriend (or one night stand) of the month, there was a faint knock at the door. Before either of us sat at the table had a chance to go ahead and answer it, my uncle came scampering down the long staircase - the one I never used.