by Kelly, A. S.
I lift my eyes from my phone and shove a piece of tart into my mouth, as Carter silently examines my daughter’s homework. She watches him nervously, apparently intent on chewing her nails down to the quick.
“So?” she asks, impatient. “Does it suck?”
Carter lifts one hand to ask her to wait. She scoffs nervously, then moves onto the other hand.
I’m beginning to understand the problem here – and I can’t help but smile. Skylar cares what Carter thinks; I’m worried that this is looking a little too familiar. Maybe she’s not all her mother, after all.
“They’re fine…” Carter says, cautiously.
“But?” she asks instantly.
“Here, look,” he says, laying down the sheet in front of her and pointing to something. “You forgot to add…” He grabs a pencil and scribbles something down.
“I knew it! Fuck!” Skylar brings her hand down on the desk.
“It’s not too bad, just…”
“I’ll never get it! This is so pointless.”
I know I shouldn’t be eavesdropping, but they’re in the living room and I’m only in the kitchen; they can’t see me from where I’m standing. So I stay there, lurking around, slipping seamlessly into my role as the over-protective dad. I think I’m starting to get the hang of it.
“Don’t be so hard on yourself.”
“Stop feeling sorry for me!”
“I don’t.”
“Ms Hill told you, didn’t she?”
“What?” he asks, genuine confusion on his terrified face.
I should definitely leave now, but my feet seem to be nailed to the floor.
“That I’m a disaster. That I have no one, that…” her voice drops. “That I’m pathetic.”
“She never mentioned anything,” he says, calmly.
“Did she tell you why I’ve been lumped with him?”
“Him?”
“My dad.”
I try to ignore the disappointment in her tone.
“She asked me if I’d mind helping out a new student who’s just moved here from another county. A bright, intelligent girl who just needed to get her studies back on track.”
“She said that?”
He nods, smiling at her. “She told me that you have a big imagination and that you’re creative. She said you’re good at writing stories.”
“What would she know about it?”
Carter clears his throat. “She told me about your graphic novels.”
Skylar’s mouth hangs open.
“She found them online and told me that they’re beautiful. I’ve read some of them.”
“You what?”
“Sorry.”
“Oh, my God!” She covers her face with her hands.
“I think they’re amazing.”
“No, they’re not.”
“And I think you’re amazing, too. Please, don’t hit me.”
Does the fact that I’m laughing and crying at the same time make me a shitty father? Maybe I’m only shitty because I’m still spying on them. But I need to know who my daughter’s hanging out with, don’t I?
“That’s bullshit!” Skylar cries, harshly; but her tone gives her away.
“It’s not. But if you want it to be, then that’s fine.”
I really like this kid.
“I think you’re beautiful,” he says, gaining courage now. “You’re intelligent, and unique.”
I watch as my daughter smiles in embarrassment.
“And you’re talented, too.”
“Do you really think so?”
He nods.
My daughter considers this for a few moments.
“I won’t hit you – for now.”
“Thanks,” he says.
“Now show me where I went wrong,” Skylar says.
I silently step away, bursting with emotion. Once I’m sure they won’t hear me, I pull my phone out of my pocket. I’m not sure what makes me type; maybe it’s the conversation I’ve just heard, or Carter’s courage, or maybe it’s this growing sensation in my stomach. And it has nothing to do with the giant slice of dessert I’ve just shovelled into my mouth.
I want to come over tonight.
Her reply arrives as my heart rate begins to rapidly increase.
Why?
I thought she’d have put me in my place immediately; instead, she gives me a glimmer of hope.
I want to be with you.
Another few minutes. This time, I can feel a panic attack brewing.
I’m scared that this is all slipping out of my control.
I can’t and won’t lie to her.
I’m scared that you’re right, but I can’t stop now. I don’t want to.
It’s too much of a risk.
I know that she’s not talking about her job, but I also know that she needs me to believe her. That way, she’ll believe in herself, too.
I’ll be discreet. No one will see me.
No reply.
After dinner. I’ll bring dessert.
Another few minutes, more uncontrollable heartbeats. My palms are clammy – then her message arrives.
Remember how much I love chocolate.
Niall
When I go back into the living room, Carter is packing up his things.
“Finished already?”
Carter glances at his watch. “It’s been an hour and a half. That’s what we agreed on.” He hooks his backpack onto his shoulder and heads towards the door, followed by Skylar.
“You can stay if you want.”
My daughter’s face snaps up towards me.
“For dinner. It’s already seven.”
“Oh, I don’t know—”
“You can call your parents and tell them I’ll drop you home after dinner.”
My daughter still hasn’t insulted me, yet.
I’m in shock.
“My dad works late.”
I can’t ignore his response.
“What about your mum?”
“It’s just me and my dad.”
Now Skylar’s eyes have landed on him.
Maybe she’s not as arrogant as she seems.
“So what will you do, just sit at home by yourself?”
He shrugs. “I always do.”
Something in the way he responds pushes me to insist he stays for dinner. “Stay for dinner.”
He thinks about it for a few moments.
“I came by bike.”
“I’ll drop you home, the bike will fit in the boot of my car.”
“I wouldn’t want to intrude.”
“I don’t think that—”
“Oh, come on!” My daughter cries. “Enough excuses! He’s invited you now. Just stay!”
A strange crimson colour seeps into Carter’s face.
“If it’s not too much trouble…” he says, timidly.
“He said it’s fine!” Discretion appears to have gone straight over my daughter’s head. “Take off that fucking backpack and shut up!”
“Sure, sorry.”
Skylar scoffs and walks off, leaving Carter standing with me in the hallway. I should have told her off for that fuck, but I wasn’t quick enough.
“What an attitude,” I comment, glancing at Carter. “I don’t know how you put up with her.”
He smiles. “It’s not that hard.”
Mmm.
Apparently, Carter’s about as discreet as Skylar.
“Do you like my daughter?”
Well, I guess I’m not so subtle, either. I’m starting to realise just how much Skylar takes after me.
“I don’t know how to respond to that,” he says, seriously. “I think I could get in trouble for anything I say.”
I like this kid.
“You’re going about it the wrong way.”
He looks at me, confused.
“With Skylar, I mean. I don’t think that being a doormat is going to get you anywhere.”
“I-I don’t know what—”
“You need
to be more decisive. Try to keep up with her attitude.”
Carter worriedly studies my expression for a moment.
“I don’t want to be insensitive.”
“What do you mean?”
He heaves a deep sigh. “I don’t think she really hates me.”
“I agree.”
“I think she just needs someone to take it all out on.”
“How do you know so much about my daughter? You’ve only known her a few weeks!”
“It’s easy to see certain things, Coach K.”
Did I already mention that I like this kid?
“I’m just trying to help.”
“By letting her treat you like that?”
“It’s her way of dealing with it. I don’t mind.”
“Are you a masochist?”
He smiles. “Maybe a little. Or maybe I just know that it’s worth it.”
I watch him carefully. “Aren’t you a little too young to be so mature?”
“Are you two done?” My daughter steps back into the room.
“Doing what?”
“I don’t know, whatever you’re doing. Leave my tutor alone.”
“Ooh…your tutor,” I say, winding her up.
“Stop it, Kerry. Seriously.”
“I’m not doing anything.”
Skylar glares at me, before turning towards Carter.
“Come with me. I’ve found a band you have to listen to.”
“O-okay,” he stammers. “It’s not more of that screaming stuff, is it?”
My daughter rolls her eyes, then storms out of the room.
“It’s probably best if you follow her,” I tell him, pushing him gently on the back.
“Of course. I’m going,” he takes a few steps, then turns back to me. “May I?”
“Go.”
He follows her quickly as I shake my head defeatedly: this poor boy will never survive Skylar. She’ll swallow him whole.
I slide my hand into my pocket to type out another message, then tell myself it’s best to leave it until I see her. I head over to the fridge and open it up to see what’s on offer. Seeing as I told my mother I’d take care of dinner tonight, I’m slightly concerned by the lack of food in there. She had a council meeting this evening, and told us not to wait for her – she’ll have eaten already with her colleagues – so I, stupidly, told her not to worry.
I don’t think I’ve ever made a worse decision.
I’ve made spicy chicken and baked potatoes: one of my specialities, because it’s one of the only things I know how to cook. My daughter doesn’t seem to be enjoying it much, while Carter hasn’t torn his eyes from his plate. I don’t know if he’s just hungry or if he’s scared of meeting a certain someone’s gaze. It’s just the three of us tonight – my father grabbed a quick sandwich before heading back into the fields to finish up a few things. I think he was just making the most of Mum not being here, using it as a convenient excuse not to sample my questionable cooking.
“Is it that bad?” I ask the kids.
Skylar shrugs as Carter shakes his head.
“I’m not exactly a chef, but I didn’t think I was that bad.”
“If I hadn’t stayed here with you, I’d have had a frozen pizza.”
“You wouldn’t order a takeaway?” Skylar asks, shocked.
“We live a little outside of town. No one will deliver to us.”
“Loser,” my daughter mutters. I’m starting to feel bad about the way she treats him.
“And your dad gets home late?”
“More or less at sunrise, but only two weeks out of the month. The other two, he does the morning shift.”
“What times does he work then?”
“He leaves the house at four a.m.”
“Wow, that’s rough,” I comment.
“As if you know what that feels like,” my daughter says.
“Hey, look. I always had to get up early for training. And I had to watch my diet, my…” I stop before I say too much.
“What?” Carter asks, curious.
“It doesn’t matter,” I say, shutting down the conversation. I can’t say that I had to watch the women I was seen with. If Carter hasn’t read those bloody news reports yet, like everyone else, then he’d lose any thread of respect he has for me. He’s the only person who doesn’t look at me as if all that respect has disappeared.
“And where’s your mum?” My brazen daughter asks. I think her sense of subtlety must be buried somewhere deep inside her – in the soles of her shoes, maybe.
“She left when I was born.”
Silence falls over the table. My daughter’s heart of stone could end up hurting poor Carter.
“Did she die?”
Jesus Christ, does she have to be so direct? I should have stopped her before she could say any more.
“She didn’t want me.” He shoves some chicken into his mouth and chews slowly. “She got pregnant when she was eighteen, and didn’t want a baby. She wanted to give me up for adoption.”
“Then what happened?”
“My father did want me.”
“How old was he?” Skylar asks, her tone softening.
“He was eighteen, too.”
I’m unable to speak. What the fuck am I supposed to say? I feel so ashamed just to be sitting here with him.
“Your dad was so brave,” Skylar says, looking right at me. “Not everyone would have done something like that. Some people aren’t even capable at forty.”
Thirty-eight, almost thirty-nine.
“Your dad must be a great guy,” she says solemnly.
Carter smiles. “He is.”
Niall
“Do you mind if we stop somewhere, first? I’m worried it’ll be closed otherwise.”
“No problem.”
Carter buckles up his seatbelt as I pull out of my parents’ driveway and head towards the town centre to drop him home.
I called up O’Heirs Bakery to find out what time they closed, and asked them to keep aside anything with chocolate for me. But the boy who answered the phone told me that they wouldn’t wait after ten, so I found myself wolfing down my dinner and trying to convince my daughter that I wasn’t in a rush to go anywhere other than to take Carter home before ten. I was trying to prove to her that I had nothing to hide.
“Sorry if I rushed you.”
I don’t want him to think that I’m crazy – I was the one who convinced him to stay, after all.
“No problem. Thank you for dropping me home, sir.”
“I told you, call me Coach K.”
“Okay, Coach.”
“About that… You know that I’m training the school GAA team for the tournament?”
“Yes, Coach.”
I already like his spirit.
“Why don’t you sign up?”
“Have you seen me, Coach? I’m not exactly sporty. I’m a nerd.”
“Who said you can’t be both?”
“Years of evolution.”
I laugh. This kid is intelligent and sarcastic. I don’t understand why my daughter gives him such a hard time.
“It could give you a chance.”
“A chance for what?”
“With Skylar.”
“I don’t exactly feel comfortable talking about this with you.”
“Come on. You must’ve realised by now that I’m not like regular dads.”
He looks at me. “I guess not.”
“You can talk to me about anything.”
“Really?”
“Sure. As long as you don’t tell my daughter. I’m not exactly one of her favourite people at the moment.”
“That makes two of us.”
Maybe that’s why I get along so well with this kid.
“I don’t think Skylar would be impressed by anyone sporty.”
“No?”
“She doesn’t seem like that kind of girl: the kind who follows fame, goes after the most popular guy at school.”
Hmm. Reminds m
e of someone.
“Besides, I’m really bad.”
“But you’ve never tried!”
“I already know I’ll suck. Everyone will laugh at me even more than they do now.”
“Why don’t you just come to one session? Get to know the team, learn the rules, maybe sit on the bench until you feel ready to join in?”
“It’s a waste of time.”
“Time you could spend doing what, exactly?”
“My own thing.”
“Comics, video games? Porn?”
He jumps at the final word, horrified. Maybe I took it too far – he’s only sixteen, though. What else would a sixteen-year-old boy do in his spare time?
“Well, anyway. Training is on Thursdays after school. You could always pop in.”
“I don’t know.”
“Just think about it. You could make some new friends.”
“Are you saying I don’t have any?”
I look condescendingly at him as I pull up in the street in front of O’Heirs.
“Friends in the chess club?”
“There is no chess club.”
“Debating, then? School paper? Maybe from Maths club. Maybe you take part in those Olympic-style competitions…”
“You watch too many American films, Coach K.”
“Maybe…but I’m right, aren’t I?”
“I’m not part of any clubs. I like my own company.”
“A lone wolf,” I comment. “Well, you have my respect, mate. But I can promise you that you won’t get anywhere on your own like that.”
“Sport isn’t everything in life. Neither is popularity.”
“In life, no, but at school, with girls…”
“They’re about to close.” He gestures towards the nearly-empty window of the bakery.
“Okay, but we’re not done with this conversation.”
“Why do you care so much about what I do?”
“I don’t know. You seem cool.”
“Really?”
“I wouldn’t mind you and Skylar becoming friends.”
“Me neither,” he says quietly; even though I know he’d like something more than friendship with my daughter. But if he doesn’t even watch porn, I don’t think I have much to worry about.
“Then let’s do something to make sure that happens.”
I didn’t tell her what time I’d come over, but I’m worried it’s a little too late. Between dinner, my pit-stop at O’Heirs, and dropping Carter home, I don’t get to her door until ten-thirty.