by H A Dawson
He did not respond to my poor attempt at a joke. ‘Perhaps I don’t want to pull through. Have you thought of that?’
I gulped. Why would that be the case? Dared I ask?
‘I’ve done things I’m ashamed of – things you’re unaware of. This is payback. It’s what I deserve.’
‘W-what are you talking about?’
He shook his head. ‘You’re poor mum suffered immensely. She doesn’t even know everything. Can you imagine how she’d feel if it came out? I should have sorted all this out years ago. I shouldn’t have been such a coward.’
‘Then maybe you should talk to her.’
‘No!’ He shot me a dark stare. ‘And you can’t tell her about this either. Promise me, Kelly.’
I nodded, although it was more of an automatic reaction than a considered one. I didn’t like the thought of keeping his secrets from Mum. In addition, I believed she had a right to know about his dark past, whatever that may be.
‘I mean it, Kelly,’ he said and gasped for air. ‘This goes no further.’
He was growing breathless and it prevented me from perusing the subject further. So, I voiced my agreement, and speaking in the calmest and most compassionate tone I could muster, I asked him if there was a connection to him leaving Mum and me for a couple of years when I was a child. I didn’t really believe that there would be – my curiosity had triggered a need to draw him out and I thought that this would be the best way of achieving my aim. Therefore, when he asked me in a panicked voice to share what I knew, I was both anxious and surprised.
‘I don’t know anything,’ I said. ‘It’s just something Mum said.’
‘What did she say exactly?’
‘She didn’t say anything. She just admitted you went away for a couple of years. When it became clear she wasn’t going to elaborate, I told her it didn’t matter.’
‘And that’s all?’
I passed him an anxious stare. ‘That’s all. What’s going on Dad?’
He stared into space.
Should I press him for an answer? Was it important enough to risk raising his blood pressure? Alternatively, maybe sorting out whatever issues were on his mind would have the opposite effect and relieve him of his anxieties.
‘I want you to do me a favour,’ he said. ‘Can you get photos and videos of your childhood from your mum and put them onto my laptop and bring it in? There on the main computer in a “family photo” directory.’
‘Of course. But why? You’ll be out soon and you can look at them at home.’
Dad scowled. ‘I need do to something whilst I’m in here. I’m bored.’
I was of the impression that he believed that he would never return home to view them again. It was a morbid thought and one I didn’t wish to reflect upon, and so I considered turning him down. However, since Dad was unmoving in his decision, I couldn’t find it within myself to argue and agreed to his strange request, albeit reluctantly.
Soon afterwards, I took a decision to leave. Even though I left because I was due to meet Matt, I could tell his concentration was lacking and that he needed to rest. It was a sad reflection of his current state and it left me feeling helpless and depressed.
Matt was waiting for me outside the hospital entrance. I greeted him with a broad smile and a quick kiss and he guided me to his car parked on a side street a few hundred metres away. During our journey to my home, he wanted to know how my father was and so I shared the details of our puzzling conversation. He was easy to talk to, always cordial and the calming influence I needed.
Approaching a set of traffic lights, he asked me if I wished to get his computer tonight.
‘I’m sure Dad won’t mind waiting a couple of days.’
‘It’s no problem.’ He passed me a sidelong glance. ‘And you could show me the photos too.’
‘Okay, as long as you don’t mind.’
He grinned and indicated left, and fifteen minutes later, we were at my parents’ home. Mum offered to make us a drink, but since I wished to spend as much of what remained of my evening with Matt, I turned down her offer and told her the reason for calling. Mum was cooperative, and guided Matt into a room to Dad’s computer and gave him an empty memory stick. Then, whilst he was extracting the videos and photos to transfer onto the laptop, I sat in the lounge with Mum.
‘I think Dad’s depressed,’ I said. ‘He didn’t want me there.’
‘Don’t you think that’s understandable?’
‘I suppose so, but I hate seeing him like that.’ I paused and caught her eye. ‘I’m worried about him.’
‘I know. We all are. But worrying is not going to help, is it?’
I sighed. She was right, of course, but I couldn’t turn my feelings on and off as she could. I worried about him endlessly and feared that at any second we may learn of his passing. The thought was intolerable, increasing the weight that resided in my middle.
‘He wouldn’t want you to worry,’ she said.
‘It’s hard not to.’
‘I know,’ she said and gazed through the window.
I looked too and watched the cars passing along the road and a woman pushing a pushchair past the driveway. Everything appeared tranquil and stress-free for her. Did she realise how lucky she was?
I broke the silence. ‘Don’t you think it’s a bit morbid of him to want to look at my childhood photos?’
‘It’s not morbid – they were happy times. It’s a positive decision.’
‘I don’t agree. It’s fine being nostalgic, but it seems to me that he believes his life is over and that he wants to remind himself of the good he had in his life. If he gives up then …’ agony clutched my throat as I remembered his wish to die. I desperately wanted to share what he’d said, but I had made a promise not to speak to Mum about it, and his wishes were more important than mine were. If I betrayed him, the stress he would experience would be immense. Given his weakened state, it was something to avoid at all costs.
‘He won’t give up,’ Mum said. ‘It’s a passing phase.’
I was about to break my promise to Dad when Matt appeared in the doorway saving me from my mistake. He glanced between us as though sensing a moment of awkwardness, and since neither of us spoke, he told us that Dad’s laptop was refusing to boot up.
‘That’s odd,’ Mum said and turned to me. ‘Did he mention there was a problem?’
I shook my head.
‘I can probably sort it out if you want me to,’ Matt said.
‘That’s good of you,’ Mum replied. ‘Are you sure you don’t mind?’
‘I don’t. And I have everything on this memory stick,’ he said dangling it before us. ‘I’ll give it back to you when I’m done.’
Mum agreed, and a couple of insignificant exchanges later, we left for home.
Striding to the car, Matt passed me a concerned look. ‘Did I interrupt something when I arrived in the room? You both looked tense.’
‘I was about to break Dad’s promise and tell Mum about his wish to die and past mistakes. Thank God, I didn’t.’
‘That would have been awkward.’
‘I know, so thank you.’
As we entered the car, he passed me a proud look.
‘I wish he’d talk to her about it,’ I said. ‘I don’t like keeping secrets, and it clearly bothered him.’
‘Do you think there’s a connection to the photos?’
I spun to face him. ‘Why do you say that?’
‘If he has a dark past as he says, he might be looking for a way of resolving it in his mind.’
‘By looking at photos of me?’
‘As I said, it’s just a thought.’
My panic aroused and I gazed blindly out of the side window of the car, not acknowledging the traffic, the buildings, or the pedestrians. Rather, my mind was engrossed in the mystery surrounding my parents, and the conversation I’d shared with Dad earlier in the evening. He had said that he had done something he was ashamed of and that my mother had suf
fered immensely. He had also said it was something that should have been resolved years ago, forcing me to conclude that he might be looking for closure. If I was right, where did I fit in?
Dread caught in my throat. ‘He will be my father, won’t he?’
‘From what you’ve said, you’re very much alike. I shouldn’t imagine there’s a problem there.’
‘That could be a coincidence. They’ve both acknowledged Dad leaving my mother and me for a while, so it makes sense. Maybe she became pregnant by another man and when he found out, he left us. Their love for each other was what drew them back together.’
‘Do you know when he left you?’
I shook my head. ‘Neither of them will talk about it.’
Matt turned onto my street and parked the car outside my house. Given that the lights were off, I assumed Ebony wasn’t home. I wasn’t concerned and rather liked the idea of having the place to myself. What I didn’t like the thought of was that I had to make a meal. I was tired and emotionally drained and wanted to spend the evening relaxing on the sofa with Matt and some alcohol.
‘I’m going to order a takeaway,’ I said. ‘I’m too knackered to make anything.’
He agreed, and soon we were inside my house, flicking through the assortment of leaflets and making our choices. We opted for a pizza each, made the call and placed our order. The delivery was going to take about twenty minutes. It would give me time to change into my sweatpants and top, select some mood music, and make up a quick alcoholic punch. Meanwhile, Matt decided to try to start up my father’s laptop.
Once changed, I was gathering the liquor and fruit juices onto the worktop, ready to pour into a jug, when I heard Matt’s cries of frustration coming from the lounge.
‘Problems?’ I called.
‘It’s been a bit of a bugger. I’m going to take it home to deal with it later.’
I wandered to the lounge room door. ‘You don’t have to. Dad can do it when he gets out of the hospital.’
‘I suppose you could show him the videos on your iPad.’
Unsure it was necessary, I held a pensive gaze.
‘It’s just a suggestion. I’ll take his laptop home and mess with it later.’
‘As is your wish.’
I knew Matt was a helpful man, but I didn’t think it was necessary to do what he was doing. Nonetheless, I chose not to argue and told him where my iPad was so we could watch some of the videos. I was going to humour him, but only for a while.
Moments later, I was mixing the punch when the doorbell sounded. As expected, it was the pizza deliveryman. I paid the fee and carried the two boxes to the lounge. Matt grabbed the jug of punch and two glasses and joined me on the sofa.
As we ate, we made light conversation. Towards the end of the meal, I realised that we hadn’t spoken of taekwondo at all, and in particular, his decision to administer drugs to one of the boys. I felt a little irritated that Matt had been avoiding the subject, but at the same time, I couldn’t summon up any enthusiasm to talk about it either.
Was it wrong of me not to speak out? Maybe I should be trying to get him to understand my point of view. If something terrible happened to him in the future, I would regret my inaction. There again, I wasn’t in the right mindset to broach the subject, aware that any discussion would progress into an argument. I may be acting selfishly, but I didn’t care. I needed his support, right now, and erased my unease.
‘Let’s having a look at those baby photos,’ he said.
Even though there was no way he could have known my thoughts, I wondered if he was keeping us both occupied to avoid taekwondo entering into our conversation. Believing it was possible and that guilt was his motivation, I regarded him with uncertainty. If he noticed, he didn’t comment, and selected one of the videos from my early years and started it up.
At first, we were both amused and laughed at the sight of me tottering and tumbling in various locations from within a house I didn’t recognise to out and about locations. However, I soon grew bored and wanted to spend my time doing something else. My listlessness prevented me from making a decision, so to make an effort I strode across the room to my music system and attempted to make a choice.
‘Who’s Bex,’ Matt said.
I spun around. ‘I’ve no idea.’
‘Well, you called out to her.’
I strode across and sat beside him as he reran the short video. At a guess, I looked to be about two or three years old, Bex was a baby, and we were in a park. I’d been trying to get a reaction from my younger companion and failed, so I turned around and trotted away. As I did so, I tripped over a bag and a piece of fabric – I couldn’t tell what it was - and I fell onto my front. As Dad hurried towards me, the camera angle dipped. Then the recording ended.
My mother wasn’t with us, but more significantly, or so it seemed, there was no one accompanying Bex. I passed on my thoughts to Matt.
‘They might have popped to the café or gone to the toilet.’
I reran the footage. There was no indication of any other adults nearby. In fact, the park – if that was what it was - was devoid of human life and unrecognisable. It was disconcerting.
He caught my attention. ‘I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation. Perhaps your dad was looking after the baby for someone for a while.’
I considered his comment. ‘You might be right. That piece of fabric has small animals printed on it. It could be a baby sling.’
‘So who does the baby belong to?’
‘That’s what I’d like to know.’ I passed him a concerned stare. ‘I have a horrible feeling, Matt.’
‘I do too,’ he said and kissed my cheek and wrapped his around my back.
Chapter 4
I remained tense for the duration of the evening. I wanted to confront Dad regarding Bex; I just wasn’t certain how I was going to do it. It would be a sensitive subject for us both and I feared speaking out, partly owing to his ill health but mainly because I feared the truth would ruin our relationship. He would no longer be my hero and the man who I’d cherished for my entire life. He would be a liar and a cheat and I would never be able to trust him again.
Of course, it was possible that the baby was unrelated to my father. Nevertheless, because of what he had told me about past mistakes and my mother’s ignorance, I had every reason to fear the worst. Bex was his daughter; I was certain of it.
I turned to Matt. ‘I just can’t believe Dad would do this to us. He must have lied to us so many times when they were secretly meeting.’ I shook my head. ‘It seems so out of character.’
‘You shouldn’t get ahead of yourself. Bex might not be his daughter.’
‘But more than likely she is. I already told you what he said about his past mistakes. This has to be what he was referring to.’
‘I still think you could be jumping to erroneous conclusions.’ He passed me a concerned stare. ‘Can’t you put your emotions on hold until you know the truth? I still say there could be an innocent explanation.’
I gritted my teeth. It was reminiscent of the kind of thing my mother would say to me, and it left me feeling overemotional and immature. In my defence, I told myself that Matt was lacking the necessary empathy to appreciate my situation. His father hadn’t lied to him for his entire life. If he had, he would have another perspective.
‘She’s definitely his daughter,’ I said. ‘He was acting too weird for it to be anything else.’
‘Assuming you’re right, I still think it’s unlikely they’ve remained in contact. You would definitely know about that.’
At first, I agreed with him, believing that it would be hard for him to live another life without our knowledge, and a weight lifted from me. It wasn’t the same as having an affair when lovers perpetuated their relationship through work or suchlike. Surely, he would wish to share birthdays and other special occasions with her, and he would want to introduce her to his wider family.
The more I thought about it, the more I considere
d the double lives people led, and my gut churned. How many occasions had Dad slipped away from the room to hold a private conversation on his mobile phone? And what about the times when he disappeared to the pub a couple of hours on Christmas day? There were other things to consider as well, like when his landscaping gardening business took him to another city or when he was partaking in triathlon competitions across the country and was away for a few days. Were such occasions the times when he was spending extensive time with Bex?
My heavy was heavy with dread, causing me to pass Matt a concerned glance. I wanted to follow his advice and wait to see what happened, and willed myself not to imagine Dad and Bex sharing time together, hating the agony it engendered within me. Yet, I failed miserably and wondered if he doted on her in the same way he doted on me. Did they share hobbies, interests, and have the same sense of humour? Were they close? I assumed they would be. Dad was an amiable man. It was hard to imagine him acting otherwise.
Matt squeezed my hand, gaining my attention. ‘Don’t dwell on it.’
‘It’s hard not to. It’s all I can think about.’ I sighed. ‘I just can’t believe he lied to me like this. I’ll never be able to trust him again.’
‘He’s still the same man you’ve always loved. He’s not changed.’
‘But he has. Don’t you see? I don’t know him at all.’ I knotted my hands and averted my gaze. ‘I can’t imagine how Mum’s going to feel when she finds out.’
‘I hope you’re not going to tell her.’
I hesitated. ‘She has a right to know.’
‘Maybe, but it’s not your place to be involved. By all means, talk to your father – and the sooner the better – but anything else has to come from him.’
Scowling, I sipped my drink.
‘He asked you to keep his secret,’ he said, his voice rising with anxiety. ‘You have to do as he says.’
‘And what if he chooses not to say anything? He’ll be putting me in a difficult position. I can’t lie to her, Matt. Aside from anything else, I’ll need her support.’