by Liam Hurley
I walked back into the room and kicked my case over. Fuck.
When morning broke I woke up lying across my mattress with a splitting head ache. I’d spent the rest of the previous night drinking the final stash of stolen booze and then throwing it up into the toilet.
I sat up and dragged myself to the sink to drink from the tap. I grabbed at the tap and my hand seared with pain, I pulled it back, the memories of my failed fight came back to me. I used my other hand to position the tap and ducked my head under the stream of water. The water burned my throat as it went down. I coughed and spluttered. I pulled myself upright and looked around the room. Thankfully, drunk me had had some foresight and had packed up my stuff.
I shuffled towards my pile of luggage and found my phone on top of it. I lifted it up to check the time, 10:21 AM. There was also a message;
Joe Greene
I’m downstairs when you get up.
I began the descent very slowly, my insides lurched each time I took a step down as gravity worked on my stomach lining. I reached the bottom step and creaked the door open into the bar.
It was a mess. There were decorations strewn everywhere and floor was so sticky I had to grab pants and pull my foot loose from a few steps. There were half empty drinks everywhere, a small part of me wanted to reach for one and chuck it down my throat. But I resisted.
I limped behind the bar and pushed the door open to the back room. Joe was stood with a clipboard in hand reading the labels on the cases in front of him. He looked up at me and grunted in greeting.
“Doing a stock take?”
“Yep.” He replied.
“Probably for the best.”
He looked up at me and raised his eyebrows.
“Sorry, too soon.”
He grunted again. The silence hung between us for a few moments.
“Can I have my keys?”
He put the clipboard down and fished around in his jeans pocket. He pulled it out, producing my keys. He threw them towards me. I tried to snatch them out the air but thanks to my hungover reflexes and the fact I had to use my left hand they clattered off my out-stretched fingers and hit the ground.
“Shit.”
I bent over and picked them up.
“You still quitting?” Joe asked as I straightened up.
I’d decided to keep my word, I was stubborn and stupid but I was at least a man of my word. I couldn’t bare the shame of being around the other staff when they inevitably found out.
“Yeah.” I said.
“You’re an idiot.”
“That’s an understatement.”
He looked at me and half a smile crept across his face.
“Where you going to go?”
“Well I was going to my parents’ house for Christmas anyway so I’ll do that then make a plan from there.”
“Okay.”
He picked the clipboard back up and went back to checking the stock. I took this as my cue to leave and turned around. I headed for the bar. Just as I was about to take a step into it Joe called me.
“Jim?”
I turned around, this was it, he was going to forgive me and beg me to stay. I knew it.
“Yeah?” I tried to stay casual.
He looked me up and down.
“Look after yourself.”
I stared back at him for moment. I smiled, nodded, turned on my heels and left.
Chapter Thirteen- Home Truths
Driving home with one hand was difficult. I rested my suspected broken right hand on top of my lap and spun the wheel, indicated and changed gears with my left. I could feel my pulse in the fingertips of my right hand.
Christmas song after Christmas song blared through the radio at me. Every time I stopped at a set of traffic lights I twisted the tuner to the next station to be greeted once more by bells a-ringing. I glowered down at the radio but my frown could not stem the yuletide joy.
The music and the sore hand were making the trip bad enough but to add fuel to the fire, I had never driven to my destination before. My parents had moved during Easter and I’d not been to visit them since. They’d moved to Didsbury, just outside of Manchester and on the upper-class scale. It was typical of the two of them. A big chance for them to show off to all their mates still stuck in our old town. Even though my sat-nav had estimated a 20-minute drive, I was well beyond the half-hour mark by the time I’d made my way to my parent’s, and I guessed my new street.
I slowed down to read the door numbers. I was looking for 184. As I passed each house I gawped at the size of them, they seemed to get bigger and bigger the further down the street I went. I saw 176, 178 and started to slow down. I turned left and pulled into my parents’ driveway. As I did the sun disappeared. I was engulfed by a huge looming shadow. I drew my eyes upwards and looked at the monstrosity in front of me.
The bricks were red and the double garage doors were painted white. Attached to the right of the garage was a giant house. There were literally pillars at the entrance keeping the front door in a constant shadow. It was like a villain’s house in a Disney film. Or a drug-dealers. I suppose Scarface works for both doesn’t it?
My car spluttered and spat black smoke from the exhaust as I pulled up the handbrake. I took a deep breath and pulled at my handle to shove the door open. I stepped out into the shadow and shut the door behind me. I walked to the back of my car and lifted the boot open.
“James!” came a shout from the pillars.
I looked around from the side of my car and saw my Mum walking out onto the drive. She was dressed in jogging bottoms, a t-shirt and a large apron covered in flour.
“Hi.” I said and ducked back into my boot to pick up a suitcase.
“You’ve got a lot of stuff.” She said as she came around the corner.
“Yeah well I’m in between places right now so I’ve got all my gear.” I said with a shrug.
Mum opened her arms wide and dragged me into her for a quick hug. As she held me I could smell cinnamon and spices.
“Been cooking?” I said.
She let me go.
“Mince pies ready for tomorrow!” she smiled up at me.
I reached back into my car and pulled out a suitcase. She dived in and grabbed a second one.
“Leave it Mum, I’ll get it.”
“Don’t be daft.” She said.
I looked up to the house.
“House is… big.” I said.
“I know, come on I’ll show you inside.”
She shuffled ahead of me, dragging one of my cases behind her. I closed my boot with my good hand and followed her.
She pushed the door open and I followed her inside. I was greeted inside by a large marble staircase directly in front of me and two open arches to my left and right. Mum leant my case on the bannister and started to walk to her left.
“Come on.” She said.
I left the case where it was and followed. I turned left through the archway and found myself in an open-plan kitchen. There was a counter in the centre of the room with a few stools dotted around it. A large double door fridge freezer dominated the left side of the room and the right was taken up by a sink and two chrome ovens.
Mum marched up to one of the ovens and pulled the door of it open. The room became flooded with the smell of warm pastry being softly baked. She continued to pull the door until it was at a right angle to the opening of the oven, she then proudly slid it underneath leaving the oven to look like it no longer had a door at all.
“Look!” she beamed, “Just like on Bake-Off”
She smiled widely at me. I raised my eyebrows and smirked back at her. I walked towards her, my eye had been drawn by the semi-circular window behind her which showed a large sloped garden.
I looked out onto the grass and saw that the top left-hand corner had been dug up and the soil was in piles.
“Garden’s nice.” I said. “Why’s all that soil up?”
Mum closed her over and peaked out into the garden.
“Oh, just Dad.” She waved. “He’s been planning for Spring, what to plant and all that, you know what he’s like.”
“But it’s December, is it not a bit soon?”
“Don’t ask, I just let him get on with it.”
“Where is he anyway?” I asked.
“He got called into work.”
“But it’s Christmas Eve.”
“People still get ill, it was an emergency surgery, he’s done well enough to get tomorrow off, it’ll be his first Christmas off in 4 years.”
“Just in time for me to be home!”
“Don’t start, I’m not having you two bicker all Christmas.” She swung a kitchen towel at me.
I jumped backwards.
“I won’t, I won’t.” I said.
Mum took me on a tour of the rest of the house. It was as lavish as expected, there were three bathrooms, Dad’s office was bigger than my old flat above Ronnie’s, and their room had a balcony looking out onto the back garden.
“So, what do you think?” Mum asked as we left their room.
“It’s… yeah… big.”
“And now for the best bit!” she said.
“There’s a secret cave isn’t there? One of Dad’s books opens it up, right?” I said.
She laughed.
“No, your room.”
“I have a room?” I said.
“Of course, you do, why wouldn’t you, where did you think you’d be sleeping?”
“I just thought you’d have a guest room.”
“We do, but it’s not your room.”
She led me down the corridor and took a left at the end. She pulled open a door and we were greeted by another staircase.
“This is nice. Bit Harry Potter, but I’ll take it.” I looked around.
“Shut up, it’s up here.”
She began to climb. I sighed and followed her. Well this was a turn up for the books, I never thought they’d give me a room. But I suppose with a house this big it was just an extra room so they thought why not?
When we reached the top of the stairs Mum pushed the door open and I took a step inside behind her. As I entered my room suddenly I had travelled back in time. The room was almost a carbon copy of the childhood room I’d left behind when I went off to University. I was gob-smacked.
I turned around and slowly took it all in. My Sex Pistols poster was up, my TV had been stuck to the wall, all my games and DVDs were stacked up neatly, even my old homework desk was here! I marched over to it and pulled open one of the drawers. Inside was a notebook. I picked it up and looked through, inside were lyrics for some originals I’d tried writing. I looked down at them for a few moments then back up at the room. I couldn’t believe it.
“So, what do you think?” Mum said.
“I… yeah… it’s all my stuff.”
“Well it’s your room.”
I didn’t know what to say, so instead I strode over to Mum and hugged her, burying my head into her shoulder. I could feel the tears start to flow so I dug my head in deeper.
“It’s okay.” She said.
I straightened up and sniffed. She smiled at me.
“You look exhausted.” She said.
“Yeah, I had a late one last night, I was working.” I tried to ignore the pang of shame I felt when I thought about work.
“Get some sleep, I’ll give you a shout when tea is ready.”
I nodded. She smiled and turned to leave.
“Mum.” I said.
“Yeah?”
“I might need to stay here a bit longer than usual, is that okay?” I asked.
“You don’t have to ask, this is your home.” She said.
I nodded again and this time she did manage to leave. The second she left I fell onto the bed and stared up at the ceiling. I felt guilty for not checking in with her as much as I could have the last few months, I felt bad about losing my job and my flat, I still felt empty when my mind drifted to Erin, but mostly in that moment, for the first time in a while I felt at peace. I was home.
I’m not sure exactly how long I slept but I must’ve missed the shout for tea because when I woke up and checked my phone I realised it was the early hours of the next day and I had the driest mouth. I pulled myself out of bed, slumped down the stairs, entered the bathroom and wrapped my mouth around the tap above the sink. Once I finally felt somewhat hydrated I returned to my room to get dressed. I opened my luggage and began to fling my stuff all around my room. This was my way of unpacking, I just created piles of clothes around the general area of my bed.
After an hour or so I was done and had even begun to put some things away when my stomach rumbled. I headed down stairs and found myself in the huge kitchen. I fumbled in the dark and eventually found a switch that flooded me in light.
I poured a glass of water and downed it in one. I poured another and made my way through to the living room.
As I pushed the door open I realised I wasn't alone. My dad was sat on the plush leather couch reading a newspaper.
"Ah" I said.
My dad looked up over the paper, and observed me for a moment through his bifocals.
"Hello James."
I nodded back at him and took a seat on the single sofa at the opposite side of the room. I took a slow sip of water.
"So, you're home?" He said.
"Yeah might be for a few weeks."
He nodded and returned to his paper. I pulled my phone out and began to load up various social media accounts. It was only then I remembered it was Christmas Day. After scrolling through the many pictures and messages of merriment I grew bored. I looked around the room and noted there wasn't a TV in here. I patted the arms of the chair for a while until my dad looked over his paper at me again.
"Sorry." I said, stopping instantly.
He looked at me again for a few seconds too long. I tried to break the silence.
"You're up early-"
"You've got fatter." He said.
Fatter. Fat I could deal with but fatter presumed I was fat before and now I was something more. Fatter.
"Yeah well, you know. How was work?"
"I had an emergency heart surgery."
"Sure. Was it ok?"
"He lived."
With that he returned to his paper and I went back to my phone. I found myself on Erin's Facebook and saw a picture of her and her mum setting up a Christmas Tree. Drinks and decorations read the caption underneath the image of them. They were holding a glass of wine each whilst draping some tinsel around the top of the tree. My heart panged looking at her smiling face. It was a deep pain that filled me up. Like screaming in a cave, it reverberated around me.
For the first time, I decided to take some affirmative action and pushed the "unfriend" button at the top of the page. I hesitated for a moment before confirming this but then brought my thumb down on "yes".
She disappeared from my screen. I resolved that this was the best action to take, out of sight out of mind. I put my phone back in my pocket. I looked around the room again and twiddled my thumbs. I check the grandfather clock in the corner. 6:23am.
"Do you want some breakfast?" I said.
My dad finished reading the page he was on before looking up at me.
"Yes. Bran flakes for me. I'd suggest the same for you."
"No point starting a diet Christmas Day is there?" I jumped up from my seat and walked back into the hallway.
His jibes never really bothered me. I was used to it now and knew what to expect from him. As I arrived in the kitchen I searched for what food was available. I actually did fancy a bowl of bran flakes but there was no way I was eating them, he'd think he'd won, so I began cracking eggs and peeling open bacon with gusto.
I was chopping mushrooms when a small cough behind me alerted me that Mum had woken up. I turned around to see her smiling at me in her dressing gown.
"You're up early love." She trotted over to me and began to fill the kettle.
"I think I slept for about 14 h
ours." I said.
"Well you must've needed it. Merry Christmas!"
"Merry Christmas." I chanted back. "Do you want breakfast?"