by TL Dyer
The tea calmed him down, stopped him from shaking. He had tried hard to hide his tears from me, and I acted like I hadn’t seen them.
‘She watched you from the doorway. And do you know what she said? She said to me that sometimes she thought you were a better mother to him than she was.’ He looks down into his whisky, gaze going deeper than the bottom of the glass. ‘Or at least, one he accepted more readily.’
When his head comes back up, there’s a vacancy in his eyes that’s greater than I’ve seen there before. But it’s only fleeting before it’s gone. Banished as soon as he breaks out a smile.
‘Isn’t it amazing, though, really, when you think about it? That you should be mum to both of my boys. Protective, caring. You, Sacha. What a beautiful person that’s turned you into.’
The room is silent other than the low rumble of his voice. A rumble that takes me back. Strong arms around my waist pulling me to him, his reassurances in my ear that everything would be alright, that I was more than capable of dealing with whatever came my way. That I was already enough.
I reach for the glass and take a sip of the whisky. It’s lukewarm in my mouth but passes like fire down my throat. Returning it to the table, I think of Eliza and imagine those same hands that had soothed me doing the opposite to her. Hurting her. Instilling fear into her. Controlling her, body and mind. Is that what he did to me? What he would do, if he had the chance? Or was all that just another one of Lauren’s lies, a carrot to draw attention to herself? Some people do that, don’t they? They like the drama.
‘Are you listening to what I’m saying to you, Darren, about Jake?’
‘Yes.’ He nods emphatically. ‘Yes, I am.’
‘And so you agree?’
‘I do.’
‘For the time being, any visits you have with him will be with me there, and in an environment he’s familiar with.’ I hold his gaze, but if he’s disturbed by my words he doesn’t let it show. ‘That means he won’t be coming here, to the house. You see him in his own home, with me, at my convenience. At least until he’s accepted his granddad’s leaving. And accepted you.’
He’s quiet for a long moment, but his expression remains unchanged. He watches me closely. And if this is a test of nerve, then I won’t back down.
‘It was good, wasn’t it?’ he says, voice rough with either emotion or the whisky, or both. ‘Back then. All of us in the house. You kids upstairs, talking and laughing and playing your music. You brought such delight to our home, Sacha. You were like a breath of fresh air. Yes, you. You look surprised, but you must have known how much we loved having you here. All of us. You made my kids happy. And that made me happy.’
He’s lying, I tell myself. That’s not how I remember it, not how I saw it. It was them who made me happy, them I looked up to. Idolised, even, if I’m to be truly honest. But if he is lying, then he’s more masterful at it than I’d thought, because the vacancy returns to his eyes and I see it now for what it is. Sadness. A bottomless, empty hole in the darkest part of him. The worst thing about it, though, is I recognise it.
‘I wish I could have saved him,’ I find myself saying, my voice a whisper as that same sadness seeps out from somewhere it’s been lying in wait for a moment like this. It draws out of me, filling the space between us, the room, the years I’ve ignored its existence. Because it’s not that I wished I had done something a year ago at the time of my friend’s death, but that I had acted much earlier than that, when I still could have made a difference. When I had the influence over him his father seems to think I had.
‘But you did save him, Sacha. You did.’ Darren reaches out to cover my hands with his palm. I should pull my hands away but I want to know what he means. How could I have saved Craig when every part of me screams that I let him down?
He shuffles on the sofa cushion until he’s facing me. And like a parent comforting a child, he tilts his head and fixes me with his full attention. ‘You saved him many times by being a friend to him. No, not just any friend, someone he could talk to, trust. He could be himself with you. We would have lost him long ago had you not been there for him. But then, Sacha…’ He grips my hands harder, urging me to listen. ‘Then you saved him again… Actually, no, we both did. You and me. We saved him in Jake.’
I take my hands from beneath his. ‘Jake’s not Craig, Darren.’
His lips press together and he sighs through his nose. ‘No, of course not. I’m not saying that. But just as part of Craig lives on in his sister, so he lives on in his brother too. We have to believe that, Sacha. We have to believe that his unlived life goes on in others who share his same genes. How do we bear the loss otherwise—’
His hand draws down over his mouth, cutting off the words and the shake of his voice that runs through them. It’s the first crack of his cool exterior I’ve seen, the first sign that no matter what else he may or may not be, he’s a grieving father, and that makes him just as vulnerable as anyone. But I can’t let him use my son to fill the void Craig’s left him with.
‘We just do bear it, Darren.’
I get to my feet. But as I do, his eyes glaze with tears. The fresh stubble along his jaw is dark with the lamplight behind him. And in stark contrast to a few moments ago, he couldn’t look any more lost and alone.
‘Don’t go. You don’t have to,’ he says, and I can’t look at him. It’s like seeing a once swift and powerful cheetah felled by injury, its strength bleeding out of it to leave only a shell. Or like watching someone ravaged by an illness so cruel and unrelenting, it strips them of their features, the very make-up that you recognise them by.
‘Please, Sacha.’
He catches up to me as I reach the door, and his hand locking around my wrist is so sudden and unexpected that I’m slow to respond, reacting only with a gasp of shock. Immediately he lets go and backs up a step.
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you. And the other day too, it wasn’t fair of me to act the way I did.’ His gaze goes to the floor and his fingers pinch the bridge of his nose. ‘I’m an idiot sometimes. You probably learned that a long time ago. My children certainly thought so. But it’s just that this house…’ He pulls in a breath as his eyes go to the ceiling first, then around the room, with a weariness that suggests he’s stared at these walls for longer than he can stand. ‘It’s so empty with everyone gone. I should get a pet or something, I don’t know.’
His head snaps back to me. ‘Hey. Maybe Jake would like a pet. We could both take care of it. Don’t you think that’s a good idea? Oh, and here, let me show you something.’
‘Darren, I have to go.’
‘No, no, it won’t take a second,’ he says, already brushing past me to go down the hallway. He beckons me to follow. ‘Seriously, come on. I just thought of it. Really quick and then I’ll let you go.’
While I have plenty to say, I bite my tongue. If I’m to keep Jake from him – at least until I have proof of what he did or didn’t do to Eliza – then I can’t give him anything to use against me. I can’t leave here with him sensing animosity between us. Animosity he can use, manipulate. But if he thinks we’re working together, I’ll be in a stronger position to take the upper hand.
‘Here, look at this,’ he says, when I step into the kitchen. He disconnects his phone from its charger on the countertop and comes around the table to show me. ‘It’s someone at work, she breeds them. Aren’t they cute? Imagine what Jake would think. He’d love one, right? I’m not sure what they are, Retrievers or something. But we could figure all that out, how to look after them and everything. Jake and I could figure it out.’
I’m looking at a photo on his phone of a batch of pups only days or weeks old bundled up next to their mother, and the only thing I’m really interpreting is that he hasn’t listened to a word I’ve said.
‘So what do you think? I mean, it’ll be a few weeks before I could bring one home. They have to stay with their mum a while, but—’
‘I think you shouldn’t rush in
to anything.’ I hand him back the phone. ‘We should take things a step at a time.’
He drops his gaze to the photo, looks at it a little while longer, pins his bottom lip between his teeth, then says, ‘Yes. Maybe you’re right.’ He swipes the screen to clear it and puts the phone on the table. ‘No, you are. You’re right. Listen, before you go, I just want to say thank you. You really have been patient with me. I’m not always the easiest to get along with. Or so I’m told. But you mentioned something before about us both working together, for Jake’s sake, and I agree one hundred percent. We’ll have our differences, of course, but Jake should be our focus. I want you to know that I truly mean that, Sacha, and I’ll do everything necessary to make this work, even if I may sometimes get it wrong. When I do, promise me you’ll tell me, so I can put it right.’
In the big empty kitchen, he reveals to me yet another side of himself I’ve never seen. I don’t know if it’s the drink or whether this really is Darren Isaacs opening up to me in a way that our past relationship wouldn’t have warranted. But now there’s Jake. And because of that, maybe what he sees in me is not the young naïve girl I was, but the person I’ve had to become.
I nod my agreement and his shoulders drop as if he’s been bracing them. He breathes out a long sigh and cracks a smile. ‘Thank you, Sacha.’
When he takes a step towards me, I tense, but this doesn’t stop him. His arms go around me as he thanks me again. Surprise has me hesitate for a moment, and then as I move to release the awkward embrace his grip tightens. His aftershave is the same as it was back then, the strength of his grasp the same, the warmth of his skin through his shirt. For a second, I’m there in the car, my whole world disintegrating and he’s the only one holding it together. His hand cradled my head then, as it does again now.
‘We’ll be alright, Sacha,’ he says into my hair. ‘I’ll make it alright. You and me, we’ll be good. Just like it was before. You remember, don’t you? You remember how good it was?’
His hand slipping down my back to my waist is when I snap my eyes open and push against his chest. But his arms are still firm around me and he lowers his head, his gaze on my lips. ‘It’s okay. You’re alone. I’m alone, too. But we don’t have to be, sweetheart. We can take care of each other.’
His voice is as low as it was that night. His face draws closer. I try to nudge him away again, but he’s stronger than I am.
‘Darren, let go,’ I protest, but his arms tighten around me the more I squirm to get loose. ‘I said let go.’
He’s still not listening, so that when his lips near mine, I use what I have. Drawing my head back, I launch it forward into his face. I don’t get much leverage, so the impact of my forehead against his nose isn’t that hard, but it’s enough to compel him to react. He pushes me aside with such force that I stumble sideways, lose my balance, and fall, my jaw slamming against the edge of the thick, handmade wooden table on the way down.
‘Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck,’ Darren curses behind me. ‘What did you do that for? You stupid, stupid…’
Instinct has me scrambling across the cold, hard floor to get away from him and up on my feet before he can come at me again. But down on his knees, dabbing at his nose with the back of one hand while the other stretches out towards me, his palm up.
‘Hey, settle down. I won’t hurt you, for goodness sake. Let me look at you. Shit.’
Whatever he sees, he doesn’t like. He gets to his feet and goes over to the sink. Now would be a good time to get out of here, but the blood’s draining fast from my head and my legs shake, my vision narrows. I’m either going to pass out or throw up, perhaps both. I drop my elbow to the floor to steady myself.
‘Here,’ he says, ‘put this on your chin to stop the swelling.’
Without looking at him, I take the wet cloth he holds out and put it to my face, first my jaw, then my forehead which is cold and clammy. A shiver runs through me, and I brace against it. Is this how Eliza felt? Did she lie on this same floor, her face bruised and sore, her body broken by his punches, her mind warped by his words, her soul destroyed by what she’d become? Is it happening to me, too? Or did it start years ago, on the rear seat of his BMW, me drunk and upset, and him playing me like he plays everyone else, except how easy a target was I?
Is that the real reason I never told him about Jake? Did I know even then, subconsciously, that he hadn’t slept with me because he cared for me and he wanted me to feel better, he’d slept with me because he could. I opened the door for him. Refusing to tell him Jake was his son was my way of slamming it shut again.
‘There was no need for that,’ he says, his voice drifting over from where he sits on the floor with his back against the breakfast bar, a towel pressed to his nose. He checks it for blood, then drops his hand to his lap. ‘We’re entitled to enjoy each other’s company, Sacha. Maybe even have a little fun, who knows.’
The blood returns to my cheeks and the dizziness passes. I pull myself upright and lean my shoulder against the leg of the table. Out of the two of us, I wonder who would win this particular battle in court if I were to report it. He would, most likely, being as I was the one to attack first. He could say he pushed me in surprise, self defence, my wounds inflicted through my own fault, not his.
‘There’s no blood, at least,’ he says, as I refold the cloth and press it again to my face. ‘You won’t be giving Jake nightmares tonight. Which reminds me, you still haven’t told me what that fear of his is about.’
All out of fight, I drag my eyes to his and only stare. I have no more words left to say. The moment I’m able, I want to be as far from here as I can get.
‘Sacha, don’t look at me like that. You were the one who hurt me; what did you think I would do? Just take it and not retaliate? You took me by surprise. I wasn’t expecting it.’
I reach up to grip the corner of the table and haul myself to my feet. He does the same, coming towards me, but I stop him with a hard glare.
‘I only want to make sure you’re alright,’ he says, dropping his voice. ‘That’s all. I promise. No matter what you’re thinking, I didn’t mean for you to get hurt. I wanted to be close to you, and I thought you wanted that too. You did once. But if I misread the signs, then I’m sorry. It won’t happen again. You can trust me, Sacha, you do know that, don’t you? I only want to do right by you. Whatever you need from me, I’m here. Same as I always was.’
I turn from his words that sound hollow in this empty kitchen, and stride to the front door without a glance to the photos on the wall to my right. For the first time ever, I couldn’t care less about the Isaacs. I’m tired of them. But for Jake, and Jake only, I need to know if anything that comes out of Darren Isaacs’ mouth is true.
Chapter 33
‘Where’s Shaun?’
Dad’s lounging in the armchair, watching some late night TV movie when I step into the living room, but he sits upright when I ask the question.
‘In the garage. Why? Oh Sacha, love, not again.’ He gets to his feet on seeing the state of my face. I’d stopped off at home first to wind a thin scarf around my throat and touch up my jaw with make-up. The effect is pathetic, but I haven’t got time for the swelling to go down. I need to speak to Shaun tonight.
‘It’s fine, Dad. It looks worse than it is.’
His sigh is soft but heavy on frustration. ‘At least stay and have a coffee with me. I haven’t seen you properly in days.’
I look towards the door. ‘I can’t. I’ve got to see Shaun and then get to bed. I’m shattered.’
He couldn’t look any more forlorn, so I promise to spend time with him once my next set of shifts is done, then leave before he can ask any more questions.
Shaun’s is the first garage in a row of four at the bottom of the street. I nudge at the wooden side door with my shoulder to open it. It scrapes along the stone floor, and again when I use my foot to close it. He pops his head up from behind his latest project, a Kawasaki something or other in luminous green, and
whips down his headphones to hang around his neck.
‘What the fuck?’ he says, doing a double-take and getting up to peer at me as if I’ve grown a second head.
‘I could say the same thing.’
‘Huh?’
‘Darren Isaacs.’
He flinches. Tongue runs over his bottom lip.
‘Three against one, Shaun?’
For a moment he just stares at me, his brain evaluating the consequences of lying or telling the truth. The latter not what he wants to do, but the former an even steeper mountain to climb.
‘Did you think he’d just keep quiet? That I wouldn’t find out?’
Shaun opens and closes his mouth, the words almost out but not quite. I cross my arms and wait. He runs his hands down over his grease-stained t-shirt and steps over to the workbench to lean against it, mirroring me by folding his forearms over his chest.
‘Has he reported me?’ he asks, fingers digging into his biceps. And as angry as I want to be, as angry as I was after Darren turned up at my door a few nights ago, I have it drained out of me by the defeatist way he watches and waits for me to deliver his sentence.
‘Not yet.’ I step over a sheet of bike parts to get to where he stands at the bench. ‘But what the hell were you thinking?’
He looks from me to his feet, eyebrows caving as if he’s trying to remember. But the answer eludes even him. ‘It wasn’t meant to go that far. I had a skinful in the club after I left yours. Couple of the boys said we should go round there, have a word.’
‘Why?’
‘Just speak to him. I don’t know. I can’t remember.’
‘Can’t remember? Do you remember beating the crap out of him, Shaun?’
‘I—’ He rubs at his forehead with the heel of his hand. ‘I only meant to talk things over with him. But the others laid into him the minute we were in the door, and… I didn’t mean to, alright?’