Page 62 of Open Water

“Breathe, Pumpkin,” Matteo whispers. His eyes on me. He doesn’t even give Lukas a second glance.

I can hear Lukas’s footsteps up the stairs behind me as I sink to the floor. Waves crashing into me from every angle. Cold water running through my veins. Ice encrusting my brain to the point that I can’t even think clearly. I don’t know why Matteo is still here. How he still holds onto me. How he loves me this much.

Because there are warm soft kisses being pressed to my forehead. My temples. His hands around my face, holding my body upright. I need to breathe. That’s what he is telling me. Breathe, Pumpkin. Breathe with me. Nice and slow.

I can’t feel my fingers. Or my toes. They are just static tingling things that seem removed from my body. My hands aching with the lack of oxygen in my limbs. Too much carbon dioxide swirling around in my system when I hyperventilate like this. I try to lick my lips, but my tongue is bone dry. My throat constricting.

Then, my Dad is there, placing his arm around my stomach, shouting for Lukas to get a paper bag from the hat rack by the door. He keeps a stack there, so I can always grab one when I leave the house. Always prepared. My Dad.

“You are doing fine, Pumpkin,” Matteo whispers. Stroking my cheek. Not even letting go. Sandwiching me in between himself and Dad.

I sit there on the floor, a pathetic waste of a person. I can’t even look after myself. I’m seventeen years old and I am sitting on my Dad’s lap on the hallway floor breathing into a paper bag with my boyfriend stroking my hair. My face. Trailing the side of my neck. Soft strokes over my fisted-up fingers. Any piece of skin he can reach outside my clothes.

“I should go,” Lukas says. I grasp that bit, with the roar of the sea still deafening in my ears.

“Stay,” I try to shout.

“Don’t go,” Dad says. His voice sounds so sad. I did that. I fucked it up, again. Me meme.

“You need to calm him down, I’ll ring you later.” Lukas is stumbling into his shoes. I can kind of see it in the corner of my vision. Not that I can see much through the tears. Yeah. I’m crying now as well. Fuck my life.

“FUCK!” Matteo screams. “Dinner is on fire.”

Well, that makes Lukas move his arse. In the right direction. Because he disappears into the kitchen with Matteo hot on his heels, my arms flailing in the air trying to keep Matteo to stay with me. I’m so fucking needy. Me meme.

Yeah, then there is more shouting. More screaming. Matteo hurling abuse at Lukas. Lukas calling Matteo names. Or maybe he’s calling the dinner names. I don’t know how I didn't notice before, but now the air is full of the acrid stench of burning and the scraping of utensils and there’s some laughter. Which makes Dad squeeze his arms tight around me. Like he has been holding his breath the whole time.

“I think it’s okay,” he says. Calmly. “They’re laughing, so it must be okay.”

No, I think. Nothing is okay. Because I fucking ruin everything.

* * *

TOM

Tom should be thrilled. He should be smiling from ear to ear, but he can’t. His son is his priority, and he has obviously let things slide. He should have put a stop to all this, because there has been so much change in too little time and he should have seen this coming. His son doesn't cope well with stress, or changes in his environment. His anxiety peaks around new people, and situations he can’t easily control.

Tom is a shit father, because all he has been thinking about is himself, when he should be concentrating on moving Max through the pitfalls and hurdles of negotiating a new relationship. His first romantic involvement, something that will hurt and bruise if he doesn’t tread carefully. Tom knows, because his own first love almost destroyed both of them.

Because Lukas is skittish like a frightened bird, and Tom doesn't even know how to cope with his own erratic feelings, let alone the fragile boy in his arms.

“We need a new packet of mince.” Lukas’s voice is calm… ish. He looks like there is nothing else he would rather do than run out of the front door and never come back.

“Do we still have a kitchen?” Tom is trying to be humorous here. When all he wants to do is ask Lukas to come sit down on the floor with them. Lay his head against Tom’s shoulder and tell him it will be fine. That they can do this. That at least they can try.

“Yeah, and Matteo is scraping out the pan, we just need to do the mince again. I’ll go get some if you can just tell me where the nearest shop is?”

Maybe that is what Lukas needs? Just a brisk walk to clear his head? Is that what he is asking, or is this a way of running away and never talking to Tom again?

“I can go,” Tom offers. Please stay. Please stay with me.

“Max needs you. Matteo has the rest under control,” Lukas says, stepping back into the shoes by the door.

“Left on the main road, two blocks up, there is an ICA.” Tom sounds as resigned as he feels. Like this is it. Like this is the end of the road.

“I’m only going to the shop,” Lukas says. And there he is bending down next to the two of them. On the floor. Trying to calm them all down, because the tension in the air is so thick with anxiety that it’s no good to anyone. “I’ll be back as soon as I can, so we can get some grub into these kids.”

“Stay for dinner. Please. I just need to talk to you. We can’t leave things like this.” Tom wishes his voice was stronger. He wishes he could be more honest. He wishes a lot of things.

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