It was with a heavy heart that he set out on his shopping trip to find an anniversary gift for his parents, well, for Monica; he had already given Tessa some money to buy a bottle of vintage brandy for Michael, what he wanted for Monica would take hours of sorting through pawn brokers and second hand shops, he exhausted every avenue but was pleased with his finds, he was weary and grimy on returning to his Grandparents house, wrapping the gifts before allowing himself a long soak in a hot bath.
With his skin tingling pleasantly from the hot water and wrapped in a towel, he sat on the edge of his bed and, steeling himself, called Carmen. He relaxed when the first thing she did was apologise for shouting at him the previous evening and he offered his apology in return only to become irritated when she berated him for turning off his phone, his mood turning sour when she once again began to point out Monica’s failings as a mother.
“Aren’t you going to say anything?” She asked upon realising that the protestations on the other end of the line had stopped.
“I don’t think I have anything to say.” He sighed “I don’t want to argue Carmen but you must know Mum was only trying to protect me.”
“And in doing so, she ruined my career; I have been suspended from my job pending an investigation. The police are in regular attendance here and at the school and now the local press have got hold of it, she’s made me look like a paedophile.”
“I’m sure it wasn’t her intention, I’m sorry for all the trouble I’ve caused.”
“So you should be, I told you this was a bad idea from the start,” she snapped “You’d better be prepared to start supporting me as it’s looking highly likely that I’m going to lose my job.”
“That’s fine, you know I will support you,” his reply “I want to see you.”
She replied after a short silence “I’d like to see you too.”
“I’ll see if I can get someone to drive me up.”
It was her turn to sigh, the fact that he was too young even to drive bringing home how young he was “You are such a child” she whispered, she had meant it kindly but Paul took a firm grasp of the wrong end of the stick and gave it a thorough shake
“I was man enough for you.” He spat.
“Paul, you took that the wrong way, I wasn’t having a dig.”
“How was I supposed to take that comment?” He growled, he raked his fingers through his hair, jumped up from his bed and began pacing his room, “I’m going to go before I say something I shouldn’t.”
“Fine, you do that, you made your feelings more than clear last night, I hadn’t realised you were such a Mummy’s boy.”
“Ah, you know what Carmen, out of the two of us; it’s you who needs to grow up, not me. Call me when you are in a better state of mind.” Tiring of pacing, he sat once again on his bed, his head in his hands, admitting that the situation he was in was a little too much for him to deal with on his own, he needed help.
Only a few short hours later, his family arrived for the opulent meal provided by his Grandparents. Studiously ignoring his father, Paul managed to get Monica to one side;
“Happy anniversary Mum.” He said, presenting her with a sizable box “It’s from me and Matt.” He finished; he would have to tell his brother later what they had bought their Mother.
“It’s heavy,” she took the box from him, placing it on the kitchen table, she began to break through the wrapping, opening the box to reveal vast amount of packaging material, delving into the polystyrene quavers, her fingers connected with smooth cold china. Freeing the first of many cups and saucers from the box, she gasped as she recognised the pattern “Paul, where did you find these?”
“I’ve been searching since we broke them,” he explained as he removed further items from the box “They’re the same pattern and batch number as the pieces of the tea set you already have so they should match perfectly.”
“Thank you,” she reached for him then, hugging him fiercely “You shouldn’t have.”
“I’ll keep looking until you have a complete set again.” He told her.
“Matthew doesn’t know anything about this does he?” she asked, willing him not to lie to her.
“No.” He answered “I meant to tell him but I forgot, don’t say anything to him.”
“I won’t.” She smiled, he had spoken the truth.
“Mum, can we talk?” he asked, shuffling his feet.
“Of course.”
Paul opened his mouth to speak but before he could make a sound, Jackson called her name asking her to join them in the living room.
“Can you keep it until later?” She asked, he was deflated as he nodded at her and followed her out of the kitchen.
“You ok?” Matt asked as he flopped onto the sofa next to Paul.
“Yeah,” Paul grinned at his brother “We have started replacing Mum’s china by the way, we got her some bits as an anniversary present.”
“Cool, you are the best brother a guy could have,” Matt heaved a sigh of relief “So what you been up too?”
“Work mainly. I got a new mobile; I’ll give you the number before you leave.”
“So you aren’t coming home anytime soon?”
“I don’t know,” he shrugged “I love it here but it’s not the same as being at home, I miss my bed and the sound of you farting the night away.”
Matt laughed “I aim to please.”
Monica surveyed her family gathered around the table. Her parents at one end and Michael’s at the other, her brother, seated opposite her had resisted the urge to bring his current conquest with him and was therefore seated next to Paul who had Matthew on his right followed by Michael holding court with Charles and Penelope. Tessa sat next to her with Kay completing the party on Tessa’s other side.
As always with one of her parents’ parties, the food was opulent and the wine flowed freely along with the conversation and laughter. She appraised each of her children as they held their own in the conversations around the table, Tessa, mature and sure of her opinion but prepared to listen to an alternative point of view, considering it before she put forward her reply.
Matthew, smiling, taking comments lightly and bringing his sense of humour to the forefront of his replies, his face was red and Monica realised that he was slightly drunk; she leant forward and got his attention before softly telling him to lay off the wine and eat a little more.
And then there was Paul, her troublesome son who she loved to distraction, he was quiet today which was unusual when near his Spanish family as the knowledge that his father couldn’t understand a single word he said usually buoyed him up and made him a lively contributor to conversations, but not today. He used the fork in his left hand to push the food around his plate but not once did he lift it to his mouth, his right hand was wrapped around his wine glass, his eyes lowered as he watched the food move from one side of his plate to the other.
He drained his wine glass and reached for the bottle, upending it over his glass and sitting back in his seat, he murmured a reply to some comment John made, the jist of which she didn’t quite catch but whatever it was brought a frown to her sons’ brow. She wished she had made the time to talk to him when he had asked her for he was obviously on the verge of what his sixteen years would consider a great revelation and she knew from experience that his brooding silence was never a good thing.
“Paul? Perhaps you would like to come home tonight?” She asked, her hand touching his as he reached for another bottle of wine
“I think you should know the whole story before you make that offer.” Unsurprisingly, he had answered in Spanish.
The discussion at the other end of the table had become loud and heated in the exchange between Charles and Michael. As usual, they were talking about the direction Charles had seen his company heading in before Michael had taken over the former now berating his son for his slow action and lack of forward planning, he proceeded to tell his son in no uncertain terms to pull his finger out and put the plans into frui
tion and that perhaps he would someday actually be man enough to run the company without his added assistance, Charles was, after all, supposed to be in retirement.
More than a little drunk and with his manhood in question, Michael raised his voice above that of his fathers’ and let rip with a steaming diatribe of what made a man, which according to Michael’s philosophy included running one’s own successful business, make enough money to support oneself and sire a child.
To each point his father had made, Paul had replied, again in Spanish, “Done that, doing that and huh, hatrick”
Monica had shot Paul a warning look as he answered each of Michael’s comments in turn, nearly choking on the food in her mouth at the last word.
“What did you say?” she asked, speaking English.
Knowing he had allowed the alcohol to loosen his tongue and he had said too much, Paul backtracked “Nothing, I was just amusing myself.”
“You said hatrick when your father mentioned children.” Monica hissed but by now the conversation had died down, she had everyone’s attention.
“It was nothing, I was messing about.” Paul replied to Monica in Spanish, painfully aware that all eyes were on them.
“What are you talking about?” Michael’s voice broke the silence in the room.
Monica cleared her throat, tearing her eyes from her son, she addresses her husband, “We were just discussing the points you made Michael, would you mind repeating them?”
“I was merely saying my dear that in order to be considered a man, one should have a successful business.”
“Done that” Paul answered, in English this time.
John hastily lent towards his nephew telling him that he needed to find another answer to the third part of Michael’s statement to which Paul had shrugged and easily switching back to Spanish said “What’s the point, it’s out there now.” while Michael continued; “One should also make enough profit from said business to support oneself.”
“Doing that” Paul reached for the wine, filled his glass and downed it quickly.
“And of course, the ultimate proof of manhood, sire a child” Michael sat back, pleased with himself.
“As I said before.” Paul stood and looked at Monica “Hatrick.”
“What do you mean Hatrick?” Michael asked confused “Sit down boy, you are making a fool out of yourself.”
“Well Dad.” Paul started, he stumbled slightly as he pushed his chair away, the wine rushing to his head, “I run my own successful business, I do make enough money to support myself and I have, with the help of my older, school teacher girlfriend, sired a child so I guess that makes me a man doesn’t it?” He asked the silent room, taking a further stumbling step away from the table, he turned to face them, “Ladies, I apologise if I have spoiled your afternoon,” he was slurring his words now “But fuck this, I’m going to bed.”
“He’s going to regret those wine filled balls very soon.” John sighed.
“You’ve done WHAT?” Michael shouted also on his feet and making quick strides towards his son, there was a commotion on the other side of the table as Monica extricated herself from her seat and was encouraging Paula to move out of her way. Michael had Paul pinned against the wall by his throat by the time she reached them.
“Michael, he’s drunk, he doesn’t know what he’s saying.” She protested.
Ignoring his wife, Michael addressed Paul “Not only have you brought shame upon this family from your endless fist fights, you have in the past been expelled from school and now you take up with a teacher and get her pregnant, how much more do we have to take from you boy? You have been trouble from the day you were born, I saw it, it amazes me that no one else has and that they repeatedly defend you but this is the last straw, you are no son of mine.”
“That’s fine.” Paul slurred “But according to your little speech back there, I am a fully fledged man, I am successful and people do genuinely like me so perhaps you,” he poked Michael in the chest “should show me a little more fucking respect.” His reactions slowed by alcohol, Paul didn’t actually see the fist that knocked him out cold.
Michael felt something snap inside his head, the fact that his very first blow knocked Paul out cold only served to fuel his rage, by the time John, Matt, Charles and Jackson managed to pull him away from the beating he continued to give his unconscious son, he was sweating profusely and panting from the effort of it.
“Who the hell does he think he is to speak to me like that?” He howled as he was dragged out of the room.
“He’s a child Michael and he needs our help, you only make matters worse,” Monica screamed at him “Don’t you ever touch him again.”
A few hours later, Paul opened his eyes and very quickly closed them again; the pain in his head was similar to a jack hammer, intense white noise accompanied by throbbing;
“Ow.” he murmured, his fingers pressing into his eyes, trying in vain to still the pulsing light that flashed behind them.
“I take it your hang over is in full swing?” John asked from his perch on the side of the bed.
“Uhuh,” Paul replied “pain killers would be really helpful right about now.”
“Dude, you are my hero.” Matt’s voice now “You fronted up to Dad big time, his head almost exploded when you told him to show you some respect.”
“I did what?” Paul sat up, clutching his head and groaning at the intense pain in his head the movement had caused, as the duvet fell away, he saw the bruises that were starting to form on his body “Why the hell did you let me say that?” he asked his brother.
“There was no stopping you, you were on a roll.” Matt told him “Mum’s in shock at your revelation.”
“Will you stop talking in riddles?” Paul snapped “Just tell me what happened, I don’t remember anything after talking to you yesterday afternoon.” And by the time John and Matt had filled him in on the afternoons event, Paul felt nauseous, sitting with his head in his hands, he groaned “I have seriously fucked up,” he threw his legs over the side of the bed, wincing as he felt the bruises across his ribs accommodate themselves to the movement, standing in front of the mirror, he surveyed the damage and was surprised that it was remarkably less than he had received before and his face only had a few marks across his left cheek bone and a slight split in his lip “Where’s Mum?” He asked, taking the shirt that Matt held out to him.
“Downstairs.” Matt replied.
“And Dad?”
“He went home with Tessa.”
“I have to talk to Mum.” Paul told the men in his room.
“I’m not sure that’s advisable right now,” John spoke “She’s reeling, she knew you had something else to tell her but she never guessed that it would be a potential grandchild.”
“There’s nothing potential about it,” Paul’s shoulders sagged, “It’s going to happen.” Sighing then, he reached for the door handle “If I’m the man I proclaim to be, I have to tackle this head on.” He told them.
Monica looked drained when he approached her, for the first time he noticed the strands of grey in her hair and her usual graceful stance had disappeared.
“Mum?” He said softly “Do you feel up to talking?” He asked, painfully aware of his Grandparents watching them.
“Let’s go into the garden,” she left her chair and led him outside, down the garden to the pergola where she sat heavily in the wooden chair.
“I’m so sorry.” Paul blurted sitting beside her.
She didn’t answer or look at him for a very long time, lost in her own thoughts, the sound of him striking a match and lighting a cigarette bringing her back from the turmoil of her mind.
“You should have told me sooner.” She said quietly
“I know. I wanted to. I just didn’t know how to go about it.”
“Blurting it out in a drunken stupor seemed like the best idea did it?”
“I don’t even remember doing it,” he admitted “Mum. I need your help.”
&
nbsp; “Yes you do.” She looked at him then and saw that the strain of keeping this secret had taken its toll on him “You are too young to be a parent.”
“I know but it’s going to happen, there’s nothing I can do about it and I don’t want to be one of those guys who doesn’t take responsibility for his actions.”
“What were you thinking when you went with her?”
“Like I told you before, she was hot and she made it a challenge, clearly I wasn’t thinking with my head.” He admitted the hint of a smile on her lips wasn’t lost on him.
“You told me you loved her.”
“I do,” he pushed his fingers into his hair, a gesture she loved and she felt her heart begin to melt “It’s difficult being apart from her and we have been arguing a lot,” he took a deep pull on his cigarette, blew out the smoke then stubbed it out “I have to talk to her face to face at some point.”
“So do I.” Monica told him, holding up her hand to quiet his protests “Paul, if you want my help, I will have to talk to her, especially if you are set on being a father to this child, we will need to arrange visits, maintenance etc etc.”
“I intend moving up there after its born.”
“Absolutely not! I forbid it and you are not to argue with me on this. Believe it or not Paul, I do know what’s best for you and if you are prepared to listen and work with me on this, I will help you as much as is humanly possible. First things first, you pack your things, you are coming home.”
“Do you think that’s a good idea as I have clearly visible bruises?” He asked,
“I want you home. Your father and I will discuss it when you are there but I warn you Paul, if you do anything to provoke him, you will receive a far harsher punishment than any you have had so far.”
“I don’t want him to have anything to do with this.” Paul put his foot down.
“He knows of course but I will ask him to leave it to me to sort out.” She confirmed. “You should have come to me sooner.”
“I know, I wanted so badly to tell you when I realised I had actual feelings for her but it’s so difficult to tell your parent that you are banging your school teacher, are madly in love with her oh, and have possibly got her pregnant.” He sighed “Where do we go from here?” He asked.
Prodigal Son (Jensen Family #1) Page 21