Page 35 of Cuts Like An Angel: Part 3

Maria was like a black cloud over the both of them. They never said as much, but in the short span of her stay so far, William’s nerves were already on edge. He was waiting for her, for it … whatever it was with Maria. It could be anything. He wasn’t so naïve to believe nothing would happen. That Maria would suddenly accept the situation she was in and succumb to it.

“So, you went to school with that guy?”

It took William a second to switch the conversation over and then he realised what she meant. “Mark? Yeah. I’ve known him since I was small. We went to school together. Even the same college. I can’t believe that was him today. Like walking into a ghost.”

“Really?”

It was a lifetime ago to William. Another version of himself, one he wasn’t sure ever really existed. “Another thing my mother managed to screw up for me.” When Rosie frowned at him, he added, “She slept with his father, broke up the Hampsons.” He took another sip of his soup and stared out across the water. It was like his breath was caught and he hadn’t done anything. Maybe that was just the tightness in his chest. Remembering what his mother had done always made him feel odd. Like he needed to go and confront her about it all over again, even though it was so long ago. Those feelings had never died. “His mother was like a mother to me,” William said, carrying on. “She used to feed me sometimes and give me clothes. Nothing fancy. She said they were Mark’s old things, but I’ve always been taller than him. I think she bought them and just said that. Sometimes the clothes still had the tags on.”

Rosie nodded. “That’s really nice of her, though.”

“She was always nice to me. If I ran away from home, she always let me stay and she never asked anything other than did my mother know where I was. I always told her yes.”

“And she didn’t?”

William let out a sound that not even he was sure was laughter. “She wouldn’t have given a shit about where I was. As long as I wasn’t under her feet, then she didn’t care. You know I came home once. I’d been at Mark’s for the weekend and my mother had changed the locks. She wouldn’t let me in for the rest of the week. I knocked and knocked, and I could see she was in there. I even shouted at her, but nothing. She just pretended like I wasn’t even there.”

“What did you do?”

“In the end, I think when she realised I wasn’t going away and it was coming close to the time her first client would arrive, she pushed me a twenty through the letterbox and told me to get lost. I could come back when she was good and ready for it.”

“So, you went to Mark’s?”

“Nearly. I mean, I intended to go there, and I set off for there, but I never made it the whole way.”

Rosie slipped her hand into his. It was warm from where she’d been holding her mug of soup. She didn’t really say anything as she leant against him, but then what was there to say? That she was sorry? It wouldn’t fix anything.

“I slept in the shed a couple of nights. I did do the odd night at Mark’s, but if I’d have stayed the week, his mother would have asked too many questions.”

“She might have helped you.”

A wry smile. “Nah. My mother would have screwed it up in the end. I mean she did, didn’t she? Sleeping with his dad. I’m pretty sure she did that on purpose. Just to get me out of there and make them hate me.”

He looked away from Rosie. Not because he was ashamed, but because he hadn’t told anyone these things before, and while they were probably nothing, they stung him, like little sharp teeth nipping at his memories. He didn’t want to see pity on her face either, or a sadness for him, and Rosie was all full of empathy.

“I can’t imagine ever doing that to a child,” Rosie said after a few minutes. “Do you think maybe Mark’s mom knew what your mom was like? I mean, deep down?”

“I think so. Maybe not the extent, just that I wasn’t happy at home.”

“No. If she knew the full extent, she’d have called the authorities.”

Rosie must have started to warm up, or at least got used to the cold, because she pushed her legs out and let them relax. She slid them under William’s strong legs and angled herself so he could lift his arm up and lay it across her shoulders. “What happened after that? Did you see his mother?”

“I tried. But every time I saw her …”

“You felt guilty?”

No. Guilty wasn’t the right word. He tried to find what it was he’d meant. But it was long ago and lost in the middle of everything he felt. “I just felt odd,” he said. “Something was ruined after that. Like she’d managed to taint the entire family.”

It was hard to look back at those days without the spoilt thoughts and words of his mother lingering in the back of his mind. He cleared his throat, attempting to signal it was time to change the subject. They’d left the house to escape his mother. Not to come out here in this wonderful scenery and bring her with them, even if it was only in spirit.

“What happened to Mark’s mother?” Rosie asked, clearly not understanding the universal thing for change the subject.

“She died. Not long after actually. Breast cancer. Turns out she’d been sick, and no one knew. His father never forgave himself for that. Like he blamed himself for the affair and that she’d got sicker. Like maybe it was his karma. If he’d not slept with my mother, maybe his wife would have got better.”

“I don’t think it works like that,” Rosie said, keeping her voice a little low, that edge of caution to it, like she worried she might upset him. “Is that why you stopped being friends?”

“We never stopped,” William said. “We just kind of drifted away.” Mark had always looked sad, and William could never work out if it was his mother’s death, or if it was just being around William. “Something was missing after his mother died. Like maybe there was a vacuum in his chest that sucked all the happiness away. I didn’t call him, and he didn’t call me.”

---