Page 41 of Deep Down
“Here, let me take it.” Blake reached forward for the bag, and Craig let him take it; otherwise, he’d never hear the end of it on the journey home.
“Thanks.” Craig peered at Alex, who shifted from foot to foot, hands deep in the pockets of his white coat. “Thank you for everything, Alex. I appreciate it.”
“You’re welcome. Keep in contact, okay.” Alex glanced at Blake briefly. “Safe journey.” Alex twisted around and left the room.
“Wow. What was all that about?”
“All what about?” Craig’s gaze was lasered on the empty doorway.
“The tension in the air. You could cut it with a knife.”
Craig rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Let’s go.” Trudging along the corridors, Craig was unaware of his surroundings, except to take note of the exit signs. Could he do this? Could he eventually go back home? He supposed he had no choice.
****
When Craig had enquired about going home to fetch some things, Blake had informed him their parents had packed up some belongings and had already taken them to his childhood home. Inwardly, Craig sighed with relief, his muscles sinking into the seat surrounding him as he stared at the scenery flying past the window.
There were three cars in the driveway of the house when they arrived back, including his own. Craig’s gaze followed the landscape, seeing everything as it had been on his last visit several years prior and smiling as he reconciled his memories with the proof before him. Serenity. And a safe haven. Craig breathed in deeply and exhaled harshly, pushing away the negativity he’d been harbouring. He would always be welcome at this place right here. And that was all he needed to know.
Craig unclipped his seatbelt and exited the car, eyes drawn to the front door which was opening.
“Craig! You’re here!” His mother rushed down the path to him and engulfed him in a hug—a gentle one, at least—before pulling him towards the house. “Everyone’s here to see you! Come on!”
He briefly closed his eyes, knowing who she meant by everyone. Fucking hell. Craig pasted on a smile and accepted hugs and handshakes from his brothers, their wives or partners. At least the kids stayed away, most of them gawking at him, clueless. Which was understandable as he had not seen them for over three years, or at all for the younger ones.
“Right, everyone. Dinner’s ready. Come find a plate and a place to sit. Kids, you know where you normally sit.” His mum’s voice broke his concentration, and the stampede of people heading to the kitchen made him smile.
Craig excused himself to the bathroom and took his time, reacquainting himself with his surroundings.
“Craig! Dinner!”
His mother’s shrill tone took him back to his childhood. He spun around and strode back to the kitchen. Entering, he saw the place was heaving with bodies, and he squeezed past several to get to his mother.
“Ah, there you are. Here you go, sweetheart.” His mum pushed a plate towards him and indicated the table where there was one seat left.
Craig chewed mechanically during the meal, not conversing, not looking at anything other than his plate. His thoughts were a million miles away from the house where fifteen people currently sat.
Someone dropped next to him, disturbing his musings, and he realised people were leaving.
“They’re all going home. They wanted to see you were okay.” Brandon answered Craig’s unasked question. His youngest brother had an affinity for other people’s emotional states. It was why Brandon had gone into social work, and it suited his empathetic nature well. It was how he met his husband, Matt, who he now had two children with: Willow, who was six, and Sutton, who was four.
“Oh, okay.” Craig couldn’t get up the enthusiasm to say goodbye to them in person.
“You alright?” Brandon asked.
“Yeah. I’m good. Tired is all.” Craig could bullshit with the best of them, although possibly not to Brandon as easily as his other brothers.
Brandon nodded. “Okay.” He stood.
Craig sighed.
“See you soon.” Brandon ruffled his hand through the top of Craig’s hair as he used to do when they were younger. Craig might be older by two years, but Brandon was taller.
Once everyone had left, his mother busied around tidying up, refusing his offer of help. She told him to get to bed and sleep. “I bet you’ve hardly slept in the hospital, have you? Go on, get to bed.”
Craig carefully got changed and slipped into bed, laying on his back in the single bed he had slept in as a teenager. He ordered his body to relax, especially his shoulder, but it wasn’t listening. Plates clinking as they were stacked and footsteps moving around in the house outside of his bedroom door, created a tension he couldn’t shake. Despite the different surroundings, he expected Darren to walk through the bedroom door any minute.
He focused on the various trinkets, pictures and objects he could see in the lamplight, reminding himself where he was. Craig laid in bed, allowing memories to shuffle through his head until silence descended. Sunlight beamed through his open curtains, waking him slowly. He was surprisingly rested, although his shoulder twinged, and he needed more painkillers.
He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop as he wandered to the bathroom, but he overheard his dad and his brothers talking about him.
“—fight back? How did it get to this stage? He’s not a wimp, so how did he end up as beaten up as he had?”
Craig retreated to his bedroom, pain relief forgotten, and sank to the floor against the door, forearms resting on his bent knees. He stared at nothing.
Whyhadn’the fought back? Darren had hurt him, and he took it. Had he needed to fight back? Was it as bad as everyone seemed to think, or had it been blown out of proportion? Darren had every right to be pissed off at Craig for not telling him about Alex. Could they have talked it through? Craig had thought they could, but now he wasn’t sure.
Craig shook his head and stood. He needed a distraction, and he could get some work done in the process. Two birds, one stone. Hopefully, his mother had thought to bring his laptop with them.
