Page 64 of Cuts Like An Angel: Part 3

Chapter Twenty-Six

William

“What in the hell was that?” William asked as he stormed back into the kitchen. He couldn’t walk fast enough to match the fury he felt. His words came out too quiet for him, but his mother was by the counter where they made teas and coffee. She had her frame beside her and her mug on the side. “You knew they were coming.”

The kettle rattled on its plate as it came to the boil and the bubbles inside made it sort of dance. Steam poured out of the top, rising into the air and mingling with the smoke from his mother’s cigarette. She smoked in the house because she knew how much he hated it, there was never any doubt about that.

He moved into the room. Rosie was somewhere behind him. “Are you ignoring me?”

Maria picked up her cigarette. She’d had it rested on one of the small saucers his grandmother had left them. A set that was so mismatched now. She took a long drag on it, lifted her face and blew the smoke out towards the open kitchen window.

“The least you can do is answer me,” William said, his voice growing louder with each useless attempt to get her to speak. She didn’t even look at him, and he knew it wasn’t because she was so racked with guilt. No, this was her game. He recognised the way she posed, hand on the counter, smoke coming from her nostrils.

She’ll speak when she’s good and ready. That was what she’d told him a ton of times growing up. But he wasn’t a child now and she couldn’t dismiss him the same, no matter how much she thought she could.

He moved closer to her again but kept enough distance from her. She’d lash out the first chance she got.

“Is this the game you’re going to play? Ignore me like you did when I was little? Answer me,” he ground out the last command. Still nothing.

She put her cigarette back on the saucer and then went to lift the kettle, but as she did, William grabbed for her and it. She yelped like his presence was unexpected, then she dropped the kettle on the counter. It bounced, rolled. William went to catch it, pushing his mother out of the way and boiling water sloshed across his arm.

“Jesus fuck …” He staggered back, yanking the hot soaked sleeve from his skin. Rolling it up rather than logical thinking of ripping the top off.

“William …” Rosie had kept herself back, but she dashed to him.

“Fucking hell … fuck …” he slammed his arm under the tap and yanked on the cold water, swearing through clenched teeth as the icy water contrasted with his heated skin and created a swarm of pain across his arm. His eyes watered with it, and he wiped them with the tea towel Rosie handed to him.

“You’ve messed up my kitchen,” Maria said. “My shoes …”

“Your shoes? Well, if you’d just bloody answer me …” he pulled his arm from under the cold running water. “Jesus …” His arm stung like someone had scraped off the top layer of his skin. “There’s a first aid kit in the bathroom,” he said to Rosie. “Can you get it?”

Rosie nodded; her own expression more fearful than his was. “Maybe you need the hospital.”

“I’m okay.” Another grimace. “I just need to put something on it.”

As Rosie left and he listened to her running up the stairs, he kept his arm under the water. “Do you think you can just ignore me and pretend tonight didn’t happen? What did you think inviting them here would achieve?”

Maria scoffed.

“Oh, so now you speak?”

“Listen to you,” she said. “Listen to how you talk to me.” She shook her head and went back to making her tea. There was a little water left in the kettle and she poured that into her cup. No, how is your arm, son? Or, can I do anything? Just her shoes and her tea. She stirred the water around, pressing the teabag against the side of the cup. “You’d never speak to me like that before she arrived,” she said, she with emphasis.

“And I never thought you’d stoop so low. Guess we’re both full of surprises.”

She put her cup on the tray and added a pack of biscuits to it. The fact they were Rosie’s, her newly discovered love for English biscuits, wasn’t lost on William. Yet the woman wouldn’t care that the whole reason she had the walker with wheels and a tray on it was because of Rosie. She’d seen it in a charity shop and picked it up. Thinking that his mother could use it and help herself get around while they were out. Now she used it to take herself out of the kitchen and back to her room.

She was walking out.

William almost couldn’t believe it, but then it was typical of her. Run away from everything.

It didn’t matter that his arm was on fire or that he felt like he’d rather rip his skin off than take it out from under the cold water, but he followed her out of the kitchen and into her room. This wasn’t over.

“This discussion isn’t finished. You can’t just interfere in things that are none of your business and then expect to walk away. What did you think would happen tonight? That Rosie would just leave? Say yes Mum and Dad?”

Maria went to her chair, but before she sat herself down, she picked up the remote and turned the television on with the volume at ear popping levels.

“No,” William said. “Not happening.” He crossed the room and snatched the remote from her hands and turned the television off. “You’re going to talk to me whether you like it or not. This shit isn’t happening anymore. It stops, tonight.”

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