The Hog

Chapter 8

"Is it possible to feel this way?" Jeremy asks me as we look through boxes in his room for his birth certificate.

"In love?" I raise an eyebrow.

"Yes. No. The pain that comes with the love. How can there be so much pain?"

"I don't think I know anything but pain. I've only ever known pain."

Jeremy looks at me for a while.  A concerned look passing his features. I try a smile to tell him it's okay. He nods and we continue with our search.

********
I look at Frank. Drunk Frank, standing by the wall.
Thomas hasn't said a word since I came downstairs. I roll my eyes, I grab his hand and lead him outside with me. He doesn't resist.

I close the door behind us and head toward his jeep. I indicate for him to get inside and I back up towards my house.

His hands are on my shoulders.  He pulls me close to him. His face is so close to mine a few more centimetres would have us lip locking. Not that I want to do that with him- ever again. His hands are hot and shaking. Is he shaking?

"Who the fuck is that up in there?" his voice is venomous.

"Oh Frank? He's my father."

I didn't think it was possible for someone to look even more angry at Thomas' point but he does. Did I say something wrong? He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

"Don't tell me you live with him." he looks at me for a reply, I just nod. "Alone?" I nod. His grip on my shoulders tightens. It's not painful but it's an iron grip, like he'll never let me go again.  I want to be angry at that but I'm not. I feel a warmth in my chest. Does he care?

"You live with that piece of shit alone? He reeks of booze and he said..." he shakes his head as if trying to get rid of an image.

"What did he say?" I ask. I could probably guess but I want to hear what Thomas says.

"He is your father and he said things...things a father shouldn't say about his daughter. I'm sorry." he breathes out.

"For what now? You aren't my father. " I roll my eyes.

"He calls you Hog. I call you Hog.  We all call you Hog. That's why you hate us...why you hate me. That's why I came to your house.  I figured it out while standing in that random supermarket aisle so I came to apologise then I met him. He called you Hog and I...I broke. Did I sound as hateful as him when I called you that."

I shrug, at least I try to but it's difficult with heavy hands weighing me down. "It doesn't matter."

"It matters Francisco, it matters a whole lot."

I don't even try to stop the tears from falling. His hands move from my shoulders to my waist in a hug.

I gasp as I make contact with his chest. Never in my life did I think I'd be hugging Thomas Greyson.  Never in my life did I think that I'd be comfortable enough to cry on Thomas Greyson's chest. Never in my life did I ever think that anyone from school, apart from Jeremy, would use my name. Francisco.  Least of all Thomas Greyson.
The reality of this situation is unbelievable, I'm standing outside my house crying on Thomas Greyson's shirt.

****

I walk out into the passage. Frank is sleeping outside his door. He couldn't even make it inside his room. I tip toe towards him-my barefeet silent on the floor.
"Dad!" I shake him.
"Dad wake up!" I use more force.  He won't move. His chest is moving up and down in a heavy manner but that's the only movement he's making.  I shake him again. But nothing.