Page 74 of You Had Me At Thirteen

‘Nothing.’ I pull back so he can’t touch me, making him drop his arm back to his side.

I don’t need him pointing out the fact that I look like shit too. The dark circles under my eyes and the faded bruising don’t help the fact that I have a hangover from hell. I suffered through a day of school because I couldn’t face my mum. I know she needs me right now, but every time I look at her, I can’t help the crushing sensation that sets itself up in my chest. A few days is all I need.

‘How’s school?’ Dad says, leaning back on his heels.

‘Fine.’

I’m not sure why he’s asking me about school. The question he should ask is, how is his fucking wife doing?

He clears his throat, and tucks his hands into his pockets. ‘That’s good.’

I stare down at him, considering slamming the door in his face. ‘When did you get in?’ I say, as I lean into the doorframe instead.

Seeing him is sending my heart slamming against my ribcage, and my brain wishing I could be anywhere else but here right now.

‘A few minutes ago.’ Has he always looked this old, or is it because I don’t see him much anymore? The greys in his hair are more pronounced, and his frown lines seem to be permanently etched into his forehead.

‘Would have been nice to know you were coming home.’

He never bothers to inform us when he’s arriving back home anymore. I wonder if that’s because he’s afraid one day he’ll be told not to bother. My mum will never say it, but I sure as hell will.

I’d left many messages, both texts and voice, to tell him Mum’s medication isn’t working, and the cancer has spread more rapidly than expected. It’s now in her stomach and oesophagus, which means she’ll struggle to eat without bringing it up.

After the doctors ran more tests, they discovered the trial medication wasn’t working for her as it should be. Basically, her body is rejecting it, and her organs, especially her heart, are now taking on the pressure of keeping her alive.

The prick didn’t even have the decency to respond, so him showing up out of nowhere has me fuming. The moment he found out Mum was sick, he took every job he could that involved him being out of town for long periods of time. Their relationship always seemed so one-sided, but I didn’t think it was so bad that he would abandon her when she needed him the most.

He rubs the back of his neck, keeping his eyes off my face. ‘Yeah… sorry about that. Work’s just been…’ He shrugs. ‘Busy.’

‘Have you seen Mum?’ I cross my arms over my chest. His busy schedule isn’t my concern. There’s no excuse he can give that will be good enough to warrant him not being here.

‘Not yet. How is she?’

‘Dying.’

He clenches his jaw. ‘That’s not what I meant.’

‘Maybe you should ask her how she is. You are her husband, or did you forget?’

‘I don’t need you to tell me how to speak to my wife.’

‘Then why are you at my door? I have better things to be doing.’

My dad’s eyes bulge from his head as he steps into my personal space. ‘I won’t have you speaking to me like—’

‘Like what?’ I say, taking a step forward so my chest is millimetres from his.

His eyes ping-pong between mine for a moment before he blows out his breath, and drops his focus to his feet. ‘I’m sorry, you’re right. I’ll speak to your mother.’

No shit, of course I’m right. The man is unbelievable. He’s also the reason I don’t do relationships. I’m no expert, but I’m pretty sure that when your wife gets diagnosed with terminal cancer, you spend as much time with her as you can. This prick standing in front of me, can barely look at his wife, let alone spend any time with her. I’m not sure if it’s guilt, or just the fact that he’s an arsehole, but I sure as hell know my mum deserves better than this piece of shit.

‘Well, if that’s all,’ I say, stepping back into my room.

Dad looks up, giving me a slight nod. ‘Of course. I’m sorry, son, it’s been a long couple of weeks.’

‘Whatever.’ With a tight smile, I attempt to close the door in his face, except he pushes against it, following me into my room.

‘Listen, I’m only home for a couple of days.’

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