Figuring You Out

Chapter Nine

"Your dad had a bad call from his PR," Mum explains, rather vaguely.

"He's had bad calls before and it hasn't ever caused that," Emily comments, with a slight sneer of hatred behind her voice as she types at her thesis.

"They photographed you and your dad coming out of the school, apparently it's meant to make quite the article. It's not good, Olly but it in no way excuses what he did," Mum continues, flyways of blonde escaping her headband, "And I'm sorry, Olly. I'm so sorry,"

"With respect, that needs to come from Dad not you," I say, fisting at my tearing eyes.

"I know it does, I know," she says, kneeling and placing a chunk of hair out of place back. As betrayed as I am I sink into her touch, if only she knew. I feel Emily press her leg against mine, she was there and she knew and it was irreplaceable.

"What about Baywatch a bag of popcorn and takeout?" Emily suggests cheerily, shutting her laptop.

"What? Until Dad comes in steaming and then throws up on the carpet or starts round two," I spite, Emily places a hand on my shoulder, "no, I seriously don't feel safe staying here, not tonight,"

"Avoiding him isn't going to help," Mum says, I glance up at her and see how tired she is, how frustrated she is at this situation I shake my head because my internal anger takes over my empathy for her.

"And this is? Sitting and pretending everything's normal?" I nearly explode but refrain myself and crack my knuckles, "No, I'm going to stay at Liam's. I'll come back tomorrow provided-"

"Provided I'm not drunk out my mind," I look around to the doorframe and see Dad standing there, he moves from his space and towards us. I tense but don't move, watching him carefully as Emily stands.

"It's ok, Em, I'm not here for another punch up," he says and I can tell he hasn't been drinking now, Dad is a very messy drunk; slurring, throwing up, talking absolute crap.

"James, perhaps this is a conversation better had in the morning," Mum suggests warily, eyeing between us.

"I couldn't sleep-"

Impulse took over and I stand with all intentions of punching the living day lights out of him, clenched fists, nostrils flaring and a hell of a lot of testosterone, only for Emily to grabble with my arms to stop me getting to Dad.

"Oliver!" Mum exclaims, as I back off, anger still bubbling through me. Emily's hands on my shoulder gently pushing me back to the sofa.

"No, it's fine Claire," Dad dismisses.

"Come on, Mum, let's leave them to it," Emily says, pulling Mum away, "I think the punches are done for one night,"

"Sorry," I mutter, not quite meeting his eye.

"It's alright, I think I did a lot worse to you,"

"I'm fine,"

"You're lying," he says with half a laugh, I bite the inside of my cheek as my Dad stares at me, "I can tell,"

"It's just a lot; the rugby, the resits and then A levels and all that,"

"Are you sure that's all there is?" he asks, I nod, not trusting my voice to lie, "I can't quite believe what I did earlier and God, I'm sorry,"

"Where did you go?"

"Just walked,"

"To the pub?" I ask, snapping my head up to him.

"No," he replies, holding a desperate glance with me, I stare down at the floor again, playing with a thread on the sofa, "I just thought about things, decided that I perhaps haven't been the fairest to you over the past year,"

"I don't know I've given you quite a rough ride," I chuckle lightly, he nods in agreement but its light hearted, "Emily and Mum, they don't deserve this, though,"

"No, you're right," he agrees, earnestly.

"Love you, bud," he says, I scoff, "Hey," he grabs the back of my neck, "I do love you and I'm so so sorry,"

"I love you too," I say, resting into him, he squeezes my shoulder. I promise myself, I will tell him, because he loves me and I love him.

Because we are father and son.