Sunday roast with my family's still something I'd wish on my worst enemy. I don't care. Somehow, the food's gotten worse. Maybe that's what's giving me a headache.
Or maybe it's the constant talking about Gavin's law degree. Which he doesn't even seem that excited about.
"Tom, pass the chick'n," Mum says before taking finishing off her wine. She goes to the kitchen for the other box.
I pass it and just leave it in front of her plate. I don't have anything to eat. I'm not hungry.
Noone's asked me about why my face's fucked up. They see it. It's kind of hard to miss. There's a giant purple bruise on the side of my head, the yellowish bruises on my nose and chin, and the red chafed skin around my neck from where that asshole grabbed me. They still don't ask.
"How's uni, Gav?" I ask.
Michael'sstaring me down. I'm waiting for him to complain that I'm not eating.
"Fine," Gavin says too quickly. He doesn't look at me when he says it. His eyes are glossy. He hasn't smiled once since I got in. Not even the fake ones he gives Mum when she compliments him.
"Should've seen 'is recent marks, Tom," Mum says, cutting into the dry roast chicken drowning in watery gravy. "Well, I am proud, wasn't I?"
Gavin nods. No smile. He doesn't even look at her.
"Tom, you remember that tutor from Year 4?" she asks.
No.
"Ms. Clarke?"
I just want everyone to shut the fuck up.
"She taught literacy?"
"Oh yeah." She was a cunt.
"Well, I ran into her at the shops. She asked about you." Mum pauses, like she's waiting for me to ask. Which I won't. "She remembers your'avin' a way with words. Y' remember tha', Michael?"
Michael nods, then says something I catch two words of. "Desk" and"studies".
"What a gifted writer you was," Mum says, sighing. She goes back to eating. Well, drinking while eating.
I take a sip of my water. My head hurts. I feel sick.
My phone buzzes.
Oh thank God.
M: Steve told me to message you to ask if you
needed an exit yet?
M: Though I don't know why you would, I love
having dinner with my family
Already off to a bad start, considering I wouldn't think Murph'd be a good liar unless he was
Actually, this might work.
T: Just call me and say you need me for some
bullshit thing
T: my flat's on fire
T: steve's dead
T: JUST CALL ME TO GET ME OUT OF HERE
M: OKAY OKAY
M: Calm down, I'll call you.
I put my phone away.
My phone buzzes, but I can't check it just yet.
It buzzes again.
I groan. "'scuse me," I whisper, standing up to head to the toilet.
M: Wait.
M: Okay, hold on
M: Do you want something serious, like your
mom's passed away? Because if so, I need to
know who you're NOT having dinner with right
now.
M: Do you want something a little lighter, like it's
the bank calling because of some suspicious
activity on your credit card(s)?
M: Do you want me to pretend to be your landlord?
I can't do a British accent.
M: What constitutes "lighthearted" enough that
you need to be called away for something?
YOU ARE READING
SomeWhere On... (BXB)
Romance[ A VERY Slow-Burn, Long Distance LGBT+ Romance ] The gay bars in London are busy, and Tommy's only goal is to pick up that cute guy at the bar. Except this American doesn't seem to realise he's being flirted with. Told through a series of locations...
