Page 1 of Maximum
PROLOGUE
Jealousy
Maximum
From the way my mum pounded hard on the dough rather than kneading it as she usually did, I could tell that she was upset.
“Are you alright?” I asked as I sat on my chair by the kitchen table watching her.
My mum’s soft hair was tied up in a bun and she had covered her lavender-colored shirt and white jeans with an apron. With her having her back to me, I couldn’t see her pretty face with those kind brown eyes that I loved so much, but from the way her right arm lifted and glided across her face I guessed that she was drying away tears.
“I’m fine.”
She wasn’t. Even though I was only eleven, I knew that much.
Getting up from my chair, I moved to stand behind her, wrapping my arms around her waist and leaning my cheek against her back. “Mum, you’re not fine. What’s wrong?”
She stopped working on the dough. At first her body stiffened, but then her shoulders lifted, and her head fell forward with a deep sigh of defeat.
“Mum,” I repeated, not knowing what to say.
My brave, loving, and strong mum collapsed in tears then. Turning around, she pulled me to her chest and cried into my hair. I was shorter than her, but I straightened up and held her, wanting nothing more than to fix whatever troubled her. For every tear she cried I aged a year and felt something fundamental change between us. I’d seen my mum cry before, but this was different. Last night, Atlas and I had spied on our parents and we’d seen our mum confront our father about his constant infidelity.
Her heartfelt pleading with him to stop his many affairs had made Conor strike out and hit my mum. If that weren’t enough, he’d threatened to throw her out if she didn’t comply with his rules. After their fight they’d had sex. I’d felt disgusted with my father’s domineering words and sounds, but Atlas was older and had watched some of it through the hole in the wall.
“Why do you let him treat you this way?” I muttered against her chest but I’m not sure she heard me over her crying. A woman like my mother deserved to be loved and cared for, not threatened and disrespected.
I was just about to tell her that my father wasn’t worthy of her when he came into the kitchen.
“What’s going on?” His voice cut through me, making me jerk.
My mother quickly dried her eyes and sniffled hard. “It’s okay, Maximum. Run along.”
I hesitated, unwilling to leave her alone with him. Conor might be my father, but at that moment I felt no love for him.
“She said, run along, boy.” My father stepped closer and physically pulled me away from her.
It was tempting to scowl at him and tell him what a giant turd he was for treating my mother poorly, but standing up against my father felt as intimidating as running with bulls.
“Leave us now.” His command was cold as he pushed me in the direction of the door. I dragged my feet, wishing I was bigger and strong enough to shield my mum from his hurtful words and actions.
They waited until I had closed the door, but my need to protect my mum made me run out the back door and sneak to sit under the open window where I could still hear their conversation.
“How do ye think it makes me feel to see ye flirt with every female in this house?” my mother asked with her sweet Irish lilt that felt so much kinder and warmer than my father’s clean British accent.
“How many times do I have to tell you? I’m not your husband, Ciara.”
“But we have children together and ye said that…”
He cut her off. “Any man will say things he doesn’t mean when he’s horny, but you should know by now that I’ll never marry or limit myself to one woman. It’s unnatural. Possessive people like you are petty and selfish.” He hissed out his last sentence.
“Do ye love her?”
“Who?”
“Take yer pick. Ye sleep with everyone here, don’t ye?” She flung her words at him and for once her tone sounded hard.
“If you complain one more time, I’ll tell you who I won’t be sleeping with; you! Despite all the enlightenment I’ve offered you, you still cling to your need to own me. You’d better get your jealousy under control or there will be no place for you here.”
