Page 17 of Ajax

By the time I’m out of bed, the clock tells me it’s just after ten. It’s surprising that Dad and Tyler haven’t harassed me for breakfast yet.

The kitchen’s empty when I walk into it, and instead of just the usual toast, I open the fridge and grab bacon and eggs.

Before long, the bacon’s sizzling and I’ve scrambled the eggs.

“You’re cooking bacon?” Tyler asks.

“Uh-huh.”

He claps his hands together and takes a seat at the dining table. “Guess you had to make up for not cooking dinner last night.”

“No, this is because I feel like it.” I smile. Nothing’s getting me down today. I won’t let it.

Dad joins us, but says nothing. Maybe he’s sulking because I left them to fend for themselves.

I sit down once the food is on the table, and we all dig in.

“This is so good, love,” Dad says.

His praise doesn’t make me feel good anymore. I think every child wants to impress their dad, but when you feel taken advantage of, that disappears real fast.

“It should be. It’s not like there was dinner last night,” Tyler grumbles.

“What do you mean? I told you there was plenty of food.”

Dad places his hand over mine. “We agreed you’d cook before you went to work.”

I lean back in my chair, crossing my arms. “When did we agree that?”

His expression blanks. I can’t believe we’ve never discussed this. After Mum died, and Dad persuaded me to stay, I just fell into the role of homemaker. But not just homemaker. It’s like I’m the mother to both of these men, who take advantage of the fact that I love them.

“I …”

“We never agreed to this, Dad. You used to help Mum around the house, but neither you nor Tyler do anything. I wanted a life. I wanted to go to university and study and be more than this. Butyoutalked me into staying. And what for? I feel like Cinderella, but you’re my own blood taking the piss.”

Tyler gapes at me. I’ve never stood up for myself like this. I never wanted to hurt Dad. But I’m done being hurt.

“But you take such good care of us, Ivy,” Dad says.

That’s it. That’s the voice he uses to manipulate me. It’s so clear now.

What would my life have been like if I’d left when I wanted to?

Tears prick my eyes.

“I’m done. You sort yourselves out.”

I grab my purse and jacket and head toward the door.

I’m not really sure what I’m doing as I get into my car, start it, and then drive down the road. But it soon becomes clear what direction I’m going.

Ajax’s farm.

It might be a short drive, but I pull over a couple of times to wipe my eyes when the tears get to be too much.

I’m not a hundred per cent certain of the address, but I know what road it’s down. I slow as I approach the farm I think is his, and take a turn down the long driveway.

Please let this be it. I don’t want to text Ajax and give him a chance to turn me away.

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