For a good five minutes, I sit and stare at the coffin until I feel a hand on my shoulder. I look up and see that it’s my grandfather, such a sweet man. I stand up and turn to face him. “How are you coping, my dear girl?” he asks.
“I’m okay, Granddad, but I’ll be glad when it’s over.” I pull him to me and hold him tight.
“I know, love. I just wanted to give you a quick cuddle before the service. I think they’re about to begin. I should take my seat. I’ll talk to you after, okay?” He kisses the top of my head, then pulls back to look at me.
“Thanks, Granddad. I love you,” I assure him.
His smile always warms my soul. “I love you, too.”
I help Granddad to a seat that’s not too far from my own and help him down. I then take a look around the room and see that most of my family have arrived, but the one to get my full attention is my mother, Rose. I honestly didn’t think she would dare show her face here because she knows my father’s here.
I do not doubt she’ll be doing the rounds of the room, not concentrating on the loss of a good friend, but instead, she’ll be telling everyone how awful I treated her the other day.
My mother thrives on pity. She loves it. Pity is her drug. You can’t take her anywhere without her telling someone that my dad’s a horrible man. She’s already lost many friends because they can’t take it anymore. If she doesn’t have the spotlight, then she will sure as hell make sure it’s on her.
As I was shopping one day, recently, I bumped into her friend, Chantelle. Chantelle is such a lovely, caring human being, who had the most amazing boyfriend, Chris. I was sad when they went from seeing us at least once a week to ignoring my mother’s calls and texts, and they went as far as to pretend they weren’t home when Rose would show up at their house. I was beside myself when I realized my mother had managed to push away two of the sweetest people that have ever existed. I wasn’t sure what to do when I bumped into her, I had no idea how to respond. Did she hate me too because I was the devil’s daughter?
She answered my many questions when she came up and hugged me and asked how I was. I told her things were good, but that I missed her and Chris’s company.
“I’m so sorry, Cassie, but we couldn’t sit and listen to your mother’s problems for one more minute. It was too much. We would go out hoping to have a good time, but your mum always dragged everyone’s mood down. She would sulk in the corner for attention.”
I nodded my head in recognition. I knew exactly how that felt. “You have absolutely nothing to be sorry for,” I shrugged. “I live with the woman, and I’ve been sick of her mood since the moment my
father left,” I told her honestly.
As the service starts, I take my seat next to Annette, and my father is on her other side. The moment the director begins to talk, Annette takes my hand in hers and gently squeezes it. She knows that for me, it’s as if one of my parents has passed. If this is how emotional I am here, what will I be like the day of my father’s funeral?
The service doesn’t drag on. Annette told them that she couldn’t handle having to sit there trying to be strong in front of a room full of people and once it’s over, I keep my head down. I don’t want to be dealing with a myriad of people, people that only stop you and give you the dreaded are you okay, head tilt just so that they can get the gossip out of you.
Quickly, I hug my grandfather and Aunty Joan. They know only by looking at me that I want to get out of here, so they don’t stop me, and Joan tried to shoo a path for me.
Just as I am nearing the exit sign, I feel a hand take my elbow. I turn my body slightly and look up to see that it’s Mitchell. I cannot believe this asshole showed up here.
“I don’t want to talk to you right now. I need to get out of here,” I whisper in a very unpleasant tone.
“I’ll come with you,” he tells me.
I stop in my tracks, shocked by how stupid this moron is. Why did I sleep with him? “If I were you, I wouldn’t follow me. It will be a gruesome scene, an ugly scene I do not want to take part in right now. I will deal with you later.” I push his arm off of mine and continue to walk outside.
Standing by my father’s van is my mother Rose, and she has a smug look about her. I do my best to ignore her, but she insists on blocking the passenger side door. “What do you want?” I demand.
She has her arms crossed over her chest. “I wanted to talk to you about your behavior the other day,” she says, her tone full of ridicule.
Remembering where I am, I keep my voice low. “I’m finished with you. I don’t like you. You’re meant to be my mother, but as it turns out, you are nothing but a bitch,” I spit. I then try to make my way around the car so I can enter through the driver’s side, but as I walk away from her, I feel a pull on the bottom of my blouse.
Without thinking, I ball my fist, and I swing. I hit her square in the face. Yep, I break her nose, and the crunching sound makes me wince. I’m not proud of it, but what’s done is done, and I continue to the driver’s side.
After climbing in, I lock all the doors and ignore the screams coming from my mother, who is still standing beside the van. I then climb through to the rear and hide.
I search for a distraction, and that’s when I see my dad’s iPod. I shove the headphones in my ears and crank up the first thing on his playlist. Of course, it is The Furies, an Irish band, a band I hate. I don’t hate them because their music is crap, not at all. But because the songs always make me cry. And that’s what I do; I sit, and I cry, ignoring the world around me. When my father climbs in, he doesn’t say a word. He leaves me in the back listening to the music I grew up on and lets me cry.
A friend of Annette’s owns a local bar and graciously closed it down for the afternoon so the mourners can have a nice, private atmosphere to remember Mark in, and since the majority of us have Irish heritage, the alcohol will flow.
My mood had changed when we arrived, I had cried all I could and decided that Annette didn’t need me bringing everyone down, so I push my feelings aside, enter the pub, and I take a seat next to my dad at the bar. “Holy shit, Cass! Did you break your Mum’s nose back there?” he asks while smiling.
“Yeah, I did, and I’m so ashamed of myself. Annette must be so upset with me.” I rest my forehead on the cold wood of the bar and squeeze my eyes shut.
“I’ve already spoken to Annette, and she laughed at the situation. I wouldn’t worry about her. I think it’s the first smile I’ve seen from her since arriving in town,” Dad chuckles. He must have forgotten about all the laughs he gave her while we sat up in the hospital.
“I’m so relieved to hear it. If Mitchell had tried to hold me back to talk to him, I have no doubt in my mind that he would have been next.” I lift my head off the bar and shrug.
“I did see him briefly. What’s going on with the two of you anyway?” Dad asks as he waves down the bartender.
“You know what, Dad? I don’t want to talk about him today. I’ll fill you in tomorrow. Today is Mark’s day.”
The next couple of hours are spent with me being the butt of all jokes. Who knew that punching my mother would be the reason for everyone at that wake to be kept in fits of laughter? I’m just glad the mood is upbeat, and not flat-out fucking depressing.
Finally, they run out of one-liners about my mother and me, and we spend the rest of the afternoon listening to my father do his impressive Billy Connolly impersonations.
While laughing at him, I spot Mitchell and Hamish as they walk through the doors. Haim comes up to me first and wraps his arms around me. “How are you coping?” he asks.
“The Bourbon's helping,” I hold up the half-empty glass. “If it wasn’t for this, I think I’d be in the corner crying.”
He leans in and kisses the top of my head, and I look up and see that Mitchell’s on his way over towards us. “God, I don’t want to have to deal with him now,” I sigh into Hamish’s chest.
“Do you want me to say something to him?”
/>
I shake my head. “No, it’s okay. This isn’t your problem to deal with.”
His eyes meet mine. “Are you going to tell him you’re leaving?”
“Yeah, I think it’s for the best.” My smile is as fake as Coco Austin’s tits.
A moment later, Mitchell comes to a halt by my side. “Hey, Cass. Is it okay if we go out into the courtyard and chat?” he asks.
I take a deep, cleansing breath and let it go. “I guess so.” Wow, that came out a little harsher than I expected.
I give Hamish a sad smile and leave for the courtyard. Mitchell opens the door for me, and I take the seat closest to the exit, knowing I'll be needing a quick exit.
He then takes a seat down on the chair opposite me. “So, can I ask why you’re so mad at me?”
‘No fucking way?’ I think, and I look up at him in utter shock. I cannot believe he has just asked me that stupid fucking question. Maybe, he is dumber than I thought. “Are you fucking with me? There’s no way in hell you are this stupid!”
Yep, the look on his face tells me that he is, in fact, a moron. “What, what did I do? I need you to tell me.”
Oh my, God, I want to punch him. I want to punch him in his useless, unsatisfying junk. “I slept with you, and the next night you went out partying with Adam. You haven’t even bothered to text me since, let alone try to see me.”
“Really?” He looks as if my reasoning for being pissed at him is absurd. “That’s why you’re so pissed at me? All because I didn’t text you?”
My eyes widen with shock. “Holy mother of fuck, you really are self-absorbed. You know what? I was trying to find a nice way to tell you this, but instead, I’m going to give it to you straight. I’m leaving here tomorrow, for good. I’m going overseas for the next twelve months, and after that, I won’t be coming back. We’re done.” I begin to stand, but he pulls me back down.
“What, you’re leaving me?!” His eyes plead with me, but I have no love left to waste.
“Yep, and tomorrow can’t come quick enough for me.”
He looks as if he is about to cry. Usually, I’d feel bad, but right now, all I want to do is go and be with my family and friends and drink. I stand again, but this time, he doesn’t try to stop me.
When back inside, I take a seat at the bar and order a couple of shots. “So, how did it go?” I hear Hamish ask from behind.
I tap my hand on the stool beside me, and he takes a seat. “He couldn’t understand why I was pissed at him. When I gave him the reasons, he said ‘is that all?’ I wanted to knee the fucker in the balls. Enough is enough. I can’t take one more millisecond of this shit! I can’t be here worrying about Mitchell, the only person that needs and deserves my attention right now is my Dad.” I close my eyes and realize that no one other than my uncle, aunt, and mother, knows about my father’s condition.
I take another shot and look up at him. “Dad has cancer. They’ve given him fourteen months to live.” My throat hurts, it feels as if there's a huge lump in it, but I know it’s just my emotions. My emotions I need to keep in check for my father’s sake. I squeeze my eyes together in a bid to stop the tears from falling, and I feel Haim’s hand cup mine.
“Open your eyes, beautiful girl,” he whispers, so I do. “You should have called me. I would have tried to comfort you or distract you, at least. First Jimmy, then Mark, Mitchell, and now your dad. I don’t understand how the hell you aren’t a mental wreck?” He gently squeezes my hand in his. “So I take it you have no immediate plans to return now that your dad is sick.”
I shake my head. “We’re heading off to his house tomorrow, but then Dad wants to do some traveling. He's talking about going to Egypt and then seeing the family in Ireland. I will not leave his side, not for a minute. I only have fourteen months left with him. That just isn’t enough time. It’s not fair,” I say as I begin to cry. It’s all too much for one person to carry.
Haim pulls me into him. He pats my head and whispers, “Shh, Shh. It’s okay, my girl. You need to let it out. Bottling it all up isn’t good for you.” I stay in Haim’s arms until I’m able to pull myself together.
“What the hell am I going to do without you?” I whisper.
His smile is genuine. “You can call me any time of the day. Even though I’ll be on the other side of the world, I’ll still be here. I will always be your rock.”
I swipe at my face trying to dry my eyes, but the tears keep slipping down my cheeks. “Thank you,” I cry.
The next morning, I wake up on my uncle’s sofa. Apparently, I didn’t even manage to make it to the guest room after the number of shots I’d thrown back last night. Luckily, I don’t feel hungover, just thirsty. My first stop is the kitchen, I take a bottle of water out of the fridge and guzzle it until it’s empty.
Feeling a little better, I find my handbag and take out my phone. I figure I'd better check in on Courtney and see if our mother has been giving her any grief over my actions yesterday.
“Hello.”
“Hey, Court. I just wanted to see if you were okay?”
“I can’t believe you broke her nose.”
“Yeah, I know. I feel guilty, but I will not apologize to her. How much is she playing on it?”
“She’s going all the way with it, and because I’m the only one around, I have to hear it all.” Courtney pauses for a moment, and I can vaguely hear my mother saying something in the background. “God, she’s at it again. I’d better go. Bye.”
“Bye, Court.” I hang up.
I tiptoe into my dad’s room and see that he’s still sound asleep. I know I should leave him to rest, but the urge is just too strong, so I hop up on the bed and jump like I did when I was a little girl.
He pulls my feet out from under me, and I fall straight down onto my butt. “Do you really think you're quicker than me?” He laughs. “I’ll still be faster than you for at least another six months. I’m not dead yet.”
I can’t help but laugh because I know if it were me in his position, I'd be making the same kind of jokes.
“So, Cass, you have your last shift at work this morning?”
“Yeah, Dad. I finish at twelve, so we can leave straight after that. I’m going to walk to work today, considering the amount I drank last night, I don’t think it would be a good idea to drive. I don’t want to lose my license before I even get a chance to use it.” I shrug.
“Smart girl. I’ll have everything packed and ready to go so that when you finish work, we can leave,” he announces while rolling over and snuggling back up into the doona.
“Great. I have everything of mine packed and in the spare room. I’ll do a once over when I get back.” I then hop off the bed and face him. “Okay, I’m going to head out now. Try and get some more rest; we have a long drive ahead of us.”
“I will, love. I’m going to go back to sleep once you leave.” He smiles.
“Good. I’m off. I’ll see you just after lunch,” I call as I head toward the door.
“Okay, see you later on,” he calls in return.
I grab my handbag and begin to walk to the shopping center. It’s only a five-minute walk from my uncle’s house.
The first person I see as I enter the store is a girl called Sheila. She’s just as tall as I am, but a couple of years older than me. “Hey, Cassie. I can’t believe you’re leaving us,” she says with a pout.
I place my handbag under the desk. “I know, I can’t believe it either.”
“I wish I was able to quit my job and travel around the world. I’m so jealous of you,” she says while stacking one of the shelves.
“I take it no one’s told you why I’m leaving then?” I ask her.
Her face is now full of confusion. “No, why? I just thought you were going traveling?”
I shake my head. “I’m only going because my dad’s been given just over a year to live. Travelling is one of his last wishes.” I tell you what, I'm super fucking proud of myself for being able to say the words without cryi
ng.
Her face turns as white as a sheet. “Oh my, God, Cassie, I’m so sorry. No one told me why you were leaving. You're so strong. How the hell are you keeping your shit together?” I see the sympathy in her eyes.
“There’s no use spending the next year crying. I’m going to try my hardest to make it the best year of his life.” I smile.
The morning drags by, since the invention of e-books, bookstores are worse for wear. All anyone has to do now is click a button, and there’s your digital copy. Me, I prefer real old-school books. My prediction though is that bookstores won’t exist within the next five years, and it depresses the shit out of me.
Twenty minutes before the end of my shift, the owner of the bookstore, Chris, comes in the door and walks straight up to me. Chris is thirty-six and very tall. He has beautiful tanned skin, longish blond hair, and if I were into older men, I’d be all over him. “Hey, Cassie. I wanted to come in and say goodbye to you.” He leans up against the counter.
“Thanks, Chris, that’s sweet of you. I’m going to miss this place,” I say as I look around the store. I mean it too.
“Pete filled me in on why you’re leaving on such short notice. I’m sorry to hear about your dad, Cassie.” His hand moves to cover mine.
I look up at him and swallow my emotions. “Thanks, it’s going to be an emotionally draining year, but it will be worth it.”
“Well, if you ever want to come back, there will always be a position open for you.” He smiles.
I know I'm beaming, my job is important to me. Knowing I can come back anytime I want, puts my mind at ease. “Thank you, I appreciate it. I love this job, and I’m sad that I have to leave, but knowing I can come back, helps things a lot.”
Back at Uncle Will’s, I see that Dad has packed both cars, and we’re ready to leave. I do a quick once-over in the spare room I’ve been staying in to make sure I have all my belongings. Once I know I have everything, I walk outside to say goodbye to Uncle Will and Aunt Gabby.
“Thank you so much for everything,” I say as I hug Gabby.
The Beginning Page 8