Page 21 of Elijah
Dad rubbed her arm. “Let her tell us, Claire, okay?”
“Yes, sorry love. Tell us.”
“Elijah is working on the same job as me,” I blurted out, hoping if the words came out quickly they wouldn’t have a chance to hang around long enough to hurt.
“Fuck,” Matty muttered, dragging a hand through his already messy, dark-chestnut coloured hair.
“Matthew.” Mum flicked a tea towel at him and then turned to me. “Oh love, how was it?”
“It was fine, as far as it could be.”
“It can’t have been easy for you,” Dad said, shaking his head. “Did you talk, have you talked?”
“We spoke, can’t say it was the friendliest chat I’ve ever had with someone, but…” I trailed off, not having any clue what the ‘but’ meant.
But it still hurts.
But he looks amazing.
But I want to kick him in the dick.
“Did he beg for your forgiveness?” Matty asked. “Because he should’ve, pissing knob head.”
Mum gave an exasperated sigh in Matty’s direction before turning back to me. “Did he apologise?”
I shook my head. “No, he still insists he didn’t do anything.”
“You bloody caught them,” Dad gasped.
“Lee, you don’t have to keep reminding her.”
Mum tutted and moved over to the cooker, taking a pair of oven mitts, she pulled out the steaming Shepherd’s pie and placed it on the side. We all stayed silent, watching her do what she did best -take care of us.
“I’m sorry,” Dad finally said, dragging his eyes from Mum. “It still hurts for us too. He was like a son to us and I can’t believe he betrayed you like that. I thought better of him.”
I crossed my arms over my chest as I watched my Dad’s frown deepen. He was right, Elijah had been like a son to them. He’d grown up as part of this family, embedding himself into our everyday life, especially when Dad had his heart attack, helping by doing the jobs around the house that Dad wasn’t able to for a while. My parents had loved him for that and were devastated when we split up. Matty had actually cried, he was only sixteen and Elijah was his hero – his big brother.
“Do you have to see him much?” Carla asked, her big grey eyes filled with worry.
“Not much, not so far at least. He’s not been around a lot, but I heard one of his men say he’d been finishing off another job, so he may well be a lot more now.”
A little guilt washed over me as I recalled accusing him of ‘prancing around’. Then again, what did I care if I’d been wrong, he was the cheating prick, not me.
“I guess you’re just going to have to get on with it, sweetheart,” Dad said on a sigh. “Do your job, let him do his and hopefully not have to see much of him. You’re strong, you can do it.”
“Well,” Mum said, taking knives and forks from the cutlery drawer. “You know what I think?”
“What?” I asked as we all looked at her expectantly.
“He’s a fucking little fucker.”
