Page 14 of Open Water

“Fine,” Max says.

Then Simon stands up. “Björklund,” he hisses. It’s a clear invitation to leave.

“Done,” Lukas huffs out, slamming the paperwork in front of him into a folder. Not even looking up.

“Thank you,” Tom says. There is nothing else he can say.

He’s a coward. An idiot. An arsehole of epic proportions.

His coat is dragging along the steps behind him as he rushes down. He needs a cigarette. He needs a drink. He needs a life. He needs.Oh fuck.It’s still there. Of course, it’s still there. Consuming his body like black ink being pumped through his veins.

“Dad, what the fuck did the two of you do to each other?” Max’s breath is hot on his neck. ”And why are they calling you ‘Björklund’? Lukas bloody hates your guts, that’s obvious.” He is right behind him. Right there. Rushing down the steps to keep up, his rucksack slung on his back.

“I bullied the shit out of him, okay? I was the fucking arsehole of the century and I spent most of my time making his life hell. Happy now?” He snarls over his shoulder.

The door to the building almost falls off its hinges with the kick from Tom’s foot. He doesn’t look back. He walks out of the school yard without even noticing that Max isn’t behind him anymore.

MAX

I have no idea where Dad has gone. Zero. He’s a fucking idiot. Instead, I head home hoping to find him gulping down whiskey on the sofa. But no. He is not there.

ME: I’m home but you are not. Thank you for the fucking support.

Nice Max. Mature. Passive aggressive shite as usual.

DAD: I’ll be home in a bit, sorry. Just needed a walk to clear my head.

Okay, Dad.

ME: You are not drunk on a park bench somewhere then?

Yeah. I’m being clingy and needy like a kid again.

DAD: No. Promise. I’m just a bit emotional.

Me too, Dad. Me too.

ME: How the hell could you bully someone? What the hell did Lukas do to deserve that? You have always gone on about your ‘treat people with kindness’ shite, making sure I was nice to everyone and not saying mean things. And it turns out you are a fucking hypocritical bully who made some kid’s life hell? What the fuck Dad?

He doesn’t reply. Speech bubbles going crazy on the screen as he is having his usual midlife texting crisis.

DAD: I have spent my entire adult life trying to be a good person and not be the idiot arsehole I was as a teenager. I am not proud of what I did. I got to apologise to Lukas today and that was a big thing emotionally for me.

ME: He still hates you. That must have been a fucking lame apology.

My Dad. The wanker.

DAD: I really want to sit down and speak to him. Explain myself. No excuses. I just want to make sure he knows that I realise my behaviour was abhorrent and vile, and it wasn’t his fault.

ME: No, it was your fault, Dad.

DAD: Yes, it was all on me. Me and my insecurities and my big mouth and wanting to be something I wasn’t.

And what was that, Dad?I can suddenly think of a million snarky comebacks. But somehow it doesn’t feel right. Somehow, I have a feeling this runs deeper.

I leave him alone and curl up in bed with my laptop, looking at the study plan Lukas has emailed me. It is doable. I am to read the links he has provided to some biology site, and then we are to discuss them tomorrow with some teacher called Miriam. I haven’t got a clue who Miriam is, but whatever.

I actually manage to read two of the links before the sound of Dad’s homecoming echoes through the house. Big loud footfalls in the hallway. The swish of his coat being thrown over the banister. Huffing and puffing when he realises that we have no food in the fridge. Zero. We did have a banana, but I ate it. Serves him right for not coming home first.

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