Page 3 of Into These Eyes
He checks his watch before staring at my chest. Never my eyes. Not since Mum died. He won’t let me in and it’s killing me.
Dragging a hand down his face, he hesitates. “Listen, Gav … you’re a mature kid. You understand what it means to be an adult, right?”
Has he forgotten my eighteenth birthday a few days ago? I suppose, if he’s feeling anything like I am, it’s possible, so I don’t poke him about it. “I guess. Why?”
He sighs heavily, turning as if he’s about to leave. When he stops, his fingers thrum against the doorframe before he faces me again. “I’ve invited someone over. I thought you’d be at training.”
“So?”
“It’s just, well … I suppose it’s time you know. I’m seeing someone.”
I freeze mid-stretch. If I hadn’t observed Dad so closely over the last few weeks, waiting for a moment to open up to him, I might believe he’s joking. But more and more, I’ve noticed his melancholy act slip. When he thinks I’m not around, I hear him humming, even singing along to the radio. I’ve tried to understand, to rationalise that maybe Mum’s death has eased something inside him. That maybe he’s relieved she no longer has to suffer. Those thoughts are hurtful enough. I haven’t considered that he has another reason to feel good.
“Look,” he says, “I know it’s a shock, but—”
“Mum’s only been gone a month!” I yell, hating the high pitch to my voice.
“It’s not that simple,” he says, staring at the floor.
“Bullshit!”
“Lower your voice, Gav.” Even though he refuses to meet my lethal stare, he keeps his tone gentle, cajoling.
“Who’s gonna hear, huh? Mum? Because I hope she can!”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
My hands ball into fists. “Far as I can tell, you’re the ridiculous one. What is it? Can’t handle being on your own for two seconds?”
He straightens, filling the doorway.
“Are you sleeping with her?” I grind out.
“That’s none of your business.”
“That’s ayes!” My jaw clenches so hard, I’m surprised my teeth don’t crumble to dust.
“Listen, Gavin. You don’t understand. If you’d just let me ex—”
“No! You’re a pathetic fuck!”
While my chest feels like it’s being constricted by a python, he’s calm. Maybe if my heart stops, I won’t feel anything. That’d be better than this.
“Maybe so,” he says softly. “And if that’s how you want to see me, then go right ahead. But my life hasn’t stopped because your mother died, and neither should yours.”
I scoff, wanting to let fly, but something in his posture stops me.Nowhe wants to talk? Why? Because he’s desperate to get laid?
As I push that revolting thought aside, his words finally register.
“My life hasn’t stopped either,” I spit, “but at least I have the decency to grieve like a normal human being. What’s your excuse? Did you even give a crap about Mum?”
He advances into the room. “Quit it. Right now,” he warns.
I square my shoulders. Just because Mum’s dead doesn’t mean I can’t stand up for her. “I hope you’re ashamed of yourself. And I hope your … yourslutis too, because I can only imagine what sort of bitch jumps into bed with a man when his dead wife’s body isn’t even cold.”
Eyes flashing with rage, his face reddens. “Watch your mouth, Son.”
I’m pushing him to the brink, and I don’t give a fuck. I’m already over the edge.
