A New Year's Kiss (BoyxBoy)

4. I Doubt the Carpet can Tell

Jay

New Year's Eve 2015

"JAY"

My thought were interrupted by my mum shouting my name from next door.

I moaned as I rolled off the bed to go see what she wanted.

"I've spilt my beer darling," she said as I walked into the lounge.

"So? I doubt the carpet can tell." I muttered as I watched a new brown stain form to join the others that were already there.

"I don't care about the carpet" my mum spat, "that was my last beer!"

"Well it's not my fault you spilt it" I said, wishing this would be the end of the conversation.

My mum looked at me and for a second I thought she was going to tell me off for being rude, but instead she just said,

"Can you nip to the offy and go and get me some more dear?"

I smiled to myself, wondering how I could have even thought she might tell me off. My mum had stopped being any sort of parent to me a long time ago.

"Sure" I said grabbing my coat, "I'll be back soon."

It was quite mild out for New Years Eve, so I decided to take the long route to the off licence. This was partly to make my mum wait for her next drink, and partly to waste more time.

Speaking of which.....5:05

I walked past a mum with her two children. She was holding both of their hands and they were talking and laughing about something.

I had never had that. My parents have both been drunks for as long as I could remember. My dad was a binge drinker, so he could go for days, even weeks sometimes without a drink, but when he did drink, he just kept going and going, until he was in his own world of self hatred and pity.

And they were the darkest days. They were the days when he would just lash out for no reason. It's not like he intended to hurt me or mum, but we often just happened to be in the danger zone. Like the time he hurled his dinner plate across the room and it hit me in the face. Or the time he ripped the tablecloth off the table and tipped hot food into our laps.

Those days my mum and I spent completely on edge, jumping at every little sound and waiting for the next object to come hurtling towards us.

The days when my dad was sober, they were the best days. Without the drink he could have been quite a good dad. But the booze was only ever a few days away.

My mum was a different kind of drunk. She was the sort that drank every day, but rarely seemed off her face. She needed drink, like you or I needed air to breath. It was her everything, and it didn't take me long to realise I just couldn't compete with that.

Things changed when my dad left. Don't get me wrong, part of me was glad that he had gone, but that day my mum changed.

It was like she gave up on life, and her drinking hit a whole new level. She pretty much drank all day now and I swear that she no longer slept at night, she just passed out.

I'd been wondering pretty aimlessly and before I knew it I realised I was standing outside of "Pit Stop".

Pit Stop was a garage owned by Mr Finley, and where I worked most weekends. Not to sound too cliched, but it was my 'happy place'.

I'd met Mrs Finley first, when she caught me shoplifting in the local charity shop.

But before I tell that story, I need to explain why I was shoplifting in the first place...