SHIFTED.✔

10

I went home to another family fight. My brother hadn't come home the night before. As I walked into the garden I realised something was up because our car was in the drive and it wasn't five thirty. I made my way up the back stairs. I could hear my father and brother arguing. Kerry's bag was thrown against the kitchen wall. I figured she'd come and left straight away.

"You're nothing but a mongrel dog!" My father was yelling at Jake. I heard the sound of knuckles against flesh.

There was more swearing, as Jake retaliated. He called my father an 'F' n 'C'. I didn't know what to do. Mum wasn't home and she was the one who stopped them from fighting. It seemed like every day they were fighting over one thing or another. I stood in the doorway and watched as my father landed a blow on my brother's face. Blood spurted from his nose. I screamed at the sight of it and yelled for them to stop. My father turned to look at me and bawled at me to get to my room. The distraction was enough for Jake to bolt passed my father and out the back door. Dad was furious.

"You! Stupid! Fat! Lazy! Bitch! Look what you've done now!" I ran to my room. Locked the door. Hid my head under my pillow and took myself to my princess place.

When Mum came home I heard Dad telling her in angry tones what had happened, "That prick of a son of yours got drunk last night and rode off his fucking car!"

"Bernie why is he always my son when he does something wrong?"

He didn't seem to hear her.

"Do you know how much that fucking car cost? How much that mongrel has just thrown down the gurgler?"

I heard Mum sigh. I could hear her moving around the kitchen preparing the dinner. "Where is he now, Bernie?"

Dad's voice quietened, "I don't know and I don't care."

Then Mum's voice sounding like she was on the verge of tears, "Isn't it bad enough we've lost one son, without losing another like this...because you can't hold your temper?"

"Hold my fucking temper. Why am I always the bad guy here? Did that dickhead consider he might have been killed? How would you feel Janice...hey...to lose another son like that? You're lucky I didn't kill the bastard myself."

I could tell by the sound of Mum's breathing that she was crying. I walked into the kitchen hoping my presence might stop the fight. Dad turned on me again.

"Finally you've come out of your room! Look at you. No wonder you've got no friends." It wasn't the first time he'd said things like this to me.

"Bernie, leave her alone! She's the only one who's never done anything wrong and you want to push her away with your temper!" Mum gasped for air. I took the potato peeler out of her hands, bit on my lip and turned towards the sink.

"You're a stupid, stupid man, Bernie Johnson. You're a self-righteous prick. Where do you think your son learnt to drink? Who do you think he learnt from?"

She thrust her face at my father. "I'm glad Jed's dead! Glad he's somewhere you can't touch him; ruin him like you've done the others."

It was the first time I had heard her say Jed's name since he died. It hurt to hear her say it like that.

That she was glad he was dead.

Dad didn't say anything. I kept my back to them and heard him leave the room, then the television being switched on. Kerry must have been hiding down stairs because she came through the backdoor five minutes later. She put her arms around Mum and whispered, "Jake's okay. Dad punched him in the face but he's okay. He's downstairs."

"Help your sister," Mum wiped her hands on a tea towel and went down to Jake.

We snuck some food to him. Mum told him to wait until Dad went to sleep, then to come and have a shower and get into bed. She told him it would all get worked out in the morning.

Which it was.

Jake continued to make car payments on a car he no longer had.

Jake went back to riding his bike.

I have to say for all the fights, name-calling, the swearing and the drinking that my father did, I learnt his love, our love, was unconditional.

This was how our family operated.

No matter how bad you were or how bad things seemed, it always got sorted eventually.

Don't get me wrong there were still wounds.

The kind words make.

Wounds, which never heal.

They scab over.

Wait in that peaceful place for it all to begin again.

To reopen and ooze their horrid pus on another day.

Thanks so much for reading Shifted.  It means a lot xoxo

Copyright © 2017 by Donna Fieldhouse. All rights reserved.

This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This book is based on real life events which the author has chosen to fictionalize.  Characters and incidents which are fiction are products of the author's imagination. Any resemblances to actual events or persons, living or dead, are entirely coincidental.