Page 57 of Fake Rocks
And what was now, more than likely, over.
What I didn’t expect was his reaction. At a least a little sympathy for how things had worked out would have been nice. Instead there was a coldness with which he greeted my admissions.
“Don’t know what you’re doing mixing with people like that, Tris. They’ll only screw you over.” He finished his beer. “Should stick to the good guys, ones like us. True friends who’ve got your back.”
I almost choked. “Friends who’ve got your back?” I repeated. “What, like blood relatives who do a runner with their cheap, tacky girlfriend at the first sign of hardship? Where the fuck were you when I got sent down? Were you there supporting me through possibly the worst experience of my life? No, you’d scarpered with Donna.” The anger I’d kept in check for the majority of the evening, since the first run in with the other guys, came bubbling to the surface. “How’s any of that having my back? Being there for yourownson?” I spat the last word at him, spittle landing on his cheek.
He swiped it away with the back of his hand. “Don’t speak about Donna like that. She needed me.”
“Ineeded you.”
“Look, son…”
“Don’t you dare call me your son. You don’t care about me.”
He winced. “Look,Tris, if you need somewhere to stay now, you can always come and doss down with us for a few days, until you get yourself sorted. The cash whatshisname gave you ought to see you right.”
All of a sudden it clicked. I knew exactly what he was doing there, and it had absolutely nothing to do with me and his sense of parenthood. The moment he knew I was doing well for myself, with someone like Saff, all he could see were the pound signs. Money was all he’d ever cared about. Not me. Not mum.
“I don’t need anything from you.”
“Tris, what would your mother say?”
“She’d probably be proud of me for finally seeing you for who you are. A money grabbing, disloyal douchebag. Everything you were to her.” I pushed my chair back with such force it clattered on the floor. “I never want to see you again.”
Without another word I stalked straight out the door, not looking back.
Once outside, I realised it might not have been the best of ideas. I had no way of getting back to Uncle Col’s, unless I wanted a very expensive taxi ride and going back to Saff’s wasn’t an option.
Walking along the street, it wasn’t long before I found a cheap budget chain hotel with vacancies, right next door to a twenty-four-hour convenience store. I went into the latter first and marched up to the counter, purchasing a bottle of whisky without a flicker of disapproval from the cashier. I figured she was used to it. I received a similar level of apathy from the receptionist who readily took my money for a room.
Once inside, I switched on the lamp, placed the bottle on the bedside table and stripped down to my boxers. I turned on the TV finding some late night rubbish reality show to watch as I drowned my sorrows, one swig at a time.
The enormity of the evening’s events hit me. The earlier, happy memories of Saff writing and singing a song about me, mixed in with the anger I’d felt protecting her which had increased at the sight of my father. And bitterness at how he’d ruined everything for me.
I took a huge swig of the drink, grimacing as the amber liquid burned a path down my throat. It wasn’t long before I wasn’t feeling any pain, it had been masked by the alcohol.
I reached for my phone.
No new messages.
Nothing from Saff.
Against my better judgement, I started to write to her.
Saff, I’m so sorry for this evening. For everything. Can we at least talk about it? xx
I got the read receipt almost immediately, staring at the screen until I saw she was typing something back.
It was going to be okay.
Wewere going to be okay.
Don’t contact me again, Tris. Jonas will be in touch to terminate the contract. We’re done.
Bile rose in my throat and I leaped off the bed, only just making it to the bathroom in time before the contents of my stomach reappeared. I sank down onto the cool tile of the floor and rested my head on the toilet bowl.
I was fucked.
