Page 11 of The Secret We Keep
“Yeah, what’s wrong with being a bus wanker?” she says mockingly.
“Holly!” Jesus, it’s like she wants to see an argument.
“Listen, Morgan,” my dad starts, his chin curling to his chest as if he can’t look at me properly. “Driving isn’t always safe and is very expensive. The bus isn’t. I gave Mr Caldwell our number, and he said he would call tomorrow. I expect you to at least try and show somematurity and realise that eventually, you have to move on and gain some normality in your life.”
Holly and I exchange a look, her face scrunches just like mine. “Because what I do now isn’t normal?”
Holly mutters something under her breath, obviously thinking the same as me.
“But I love writing.” I ignore the fact I’ve had writer’s block for as long as I can remember.
When I look around the table, nobody is eating.
My mum looks in Holly’s direction, then she covers her face with her hands with a large sigh. “That’s not what Dad meant,” she says. “What he wastryingto say is, life is difficult, we understand that. After we let you take a break in your education for a well needed rest, we feel that now is the time for you to get a normal job and think about your future.”
“I had a normal job—”
“But you couldn’t do that.” My dad’s hand slams on the table, completely out of character.
I jump in my seat, a shudder snaking down my spine. What was that? I narrow my eyes at him before I blink hurriedly. I’m not hungry anymore. But I’m actually grateful. For the first time in ages, somebody said what they feel.
And what he’s saying is that I’m a failure.
Granted, he isn’t wrong, but it still hurts hearing it. “No, I couldn’t. So, what makes you think I could do an office job any better?”
Dad wipes a hand down his face. He’s in his early fifties, but his greys have certainly increased in the past three years. Maybe that’s the stress I’m apparently causing him.
“I’m sorry, okay,” he begins, before he sighs and looks at me. “I just want to see you happy.”
“And you think an office job is the answer to my happiness?”
“I knowwhothe answer is,” Holly says, steering the conversation in the opposite direction completely, loud enough for everyone to hear.
My eyes widen.
“What is it?” Mum asks, her lips pressing into a thin line, her stare steady like she’s waiting for me to say something.
I let out a sigh. No point in lying now. “Holly thinks I should go speak to Paddy. You know, seeing as he’s back.”
My dad’s back snaps straight. “No. Absolutely not. That will only cause you more emotional stress that you can’t handle right now.”
What the hell does that mean?
“Dad, it’s Paddy we’re talking about. Fi tells me he’s a paramedic now. Totally different from how you remember him.”
Mum’s nose tips up like she’s all noble. “We’re only looking out for you, Morgan. Paddy O’Keefe… He’s not the answer.”
I look at her, thinking she’ll elaborate. She doesn’t. “Like, he’s not the answer, period? Or he’s not the answer to something specific?”
Dad glares at Mum, the tiny vein in his head pulsing. “I don’t want her seeing that man.”
“Why are you talking like I’m not sitting right next to you?”
Holly shifts nervously.
Before Dad can say anything, Mum takes a breath. “Because Dad cares about you. We all do.”
Lord help me. I give Holly a look that lets her know I’m not happy about her putting me in the doghouse. “Why would saying hi to our friend’s brother, someone who we grew up around, be so bad?” I actually have no intention of talking to Paddy, but I’m curious enough to know why this apparently is a big deal to them.
