the fuck time do you call this?’ Jacob said through gritted teeth, edging closer to Connor, who instinctively tensed and leaned away.
‘I had car trouble.’
‘Car trouble? What? Do I look like a fucking idiot to you or something? You think you can just lie to me whenever you feel like it, you little prick?’ Jacob’s voice got steadily louder as his temper took hold.
‘OK, sorry I’m late. I won’t do it again.’ The sound of his own voice pleading made Connor feel sick. How pathetic. He should just tell him where to go.
‘You’re damn right you won’t! If you screw things up this time you are on your own, I’m not moving to a new house again.’
‘I’m not going to screw anything up; I’m just a bit late.’
Jacob moved in towards Connor and looked him dead in the eye.
‘No girl is worth ruining your life for, asshole. Keep your dick in your pants and your mind on school.’
Connor sighed. Jacob didn’t understand, how could he?
‘OK, I get it … jeez.’
‘Are you trying to be clever?’
‘No, Dad, I’m just tired. I’m going to bed.’
Connor took a deep breath and put his foot on the first step. He could tell that his father was looking for an argument. Connor’s instinct was always to fuck up and contribute to these inevitable confrontations. He had promised himself when they moved to Exeter that he wouldn’t keep doing it, but the tighter Jacob’s grip, the more Connor wanted to pull away. He moved up the stairs, unwilling to stay and repeat every argument they had ever had.
‘Don’t you walk away from me!’
Connor fell onto his hands as Jacob pushed him with full force; the second step jarred against his shin, the bare wood clashing against bone, his leg instantly throbbing. He quickly shielded his head, knowing the places his father liked to punch, and curled into the smallest ball possible, protecting his ribs, throat, face and stomach. Right on cue, Connor felt the full weight of Jacob’s trainer as it hit him in the thigh. Connor’s eyes closed tight and he hoped that Jacob would keep kicking the same spot as it didn’t hurt so much there and it was easy to hide. His father was unhealthy with a bad leg, so the kicking part didn’t usually last very long.
Connor heard a metal clinking sound; the sound of Jacob’s belt unbuckling and being pulled quickly from his waist. He knew what came next. The hard edges on the side of the belt cut into his skin as it connected with his shoulder. Jacob had wrapped the belt around his fist, either to protect his hands, or to cause maximum damage – the buckle always left the biggest mark.
‘Dad, please … Please, I’m sorry!’ He hated to beg, he wasn’t even convinced he meant it.
‘I’ll make you fucking sorry!’
He hit him a few more times, each time slightly harder than the last, until Jacob ran out of steam. Finally, Connor heard the familiar sound of Jacob’s foot dragging as he walked away. He got worse beatings when his dad was sober; at least when he was drunk he ran out of energy faster.
Connor waited until he knew his father was gone before uncurling from his self-imposed cocoon. It didn’t really hurt yet, but that was because of the shock. At least he hadn’t had a seizure this time. Getting beaten up by his dad was bad enough without the added humiliation of losing control of his faculties altogether.
Pulling himself up, Connor peered into the lounge and saw his father sitting in front of the TV with a beer in hand. As though this interaction had never occurred, as if it were all just a dream. Connor trudged up the stairs and flopped onto his bed, wanting to fall asleep before the pain really started.
As he lay there, he heard mutterings through the wall, coming from the house next door. It was a low sound, an almost drone-like murmur. He realised that any kind of volume would most definitely have been heard through the walls. He exhaled deeply, embarrassed that his neighbours might know what kind of a man his father was, what kind of a coward he was. He couldn’t think about it right now.
He closed his eyes and thought instead about the home he had left behind. The home that wasn’t really a home anymore, not to him anyway. He thought about his old friends and how he wished he was back there with them. Occasionally, on nights like this, he would try and remember to feel fortunate. He had been told time and time again how lucky he was. He thought about a girl in his old class called Marianne; they had been in school together for seven years. He remembered the last time he saw her vividly – she had been hanging a banner for the end of year summer prom. Standing on a ladder in the cafeteria, obscuring the clock with it. The thing he remembered most about Marianne was that she had always worn yellow shoes in all the time he had known her. He tried to push her out of his mind as he recalled the image of one yellow shoe in the school gym … He didn’t want to think about Marianne anymore. Sleep. He wanted to sleep and forget, wake up in a new day and deal with that rather than with this.
It was a long time before he kissed me again, but I wanted it every single day. Whenever I went out to the bins I half expected him to be there but he wasn’t. I could tell he was taunting me with it, trying to make me want him even more. It was working; I wanted him more than anything. He was playing a long game and winning.
On my nineteenth birthday I was offered the day off work but I said no – I wanted to go in, I wanted to see him. On that day he came in late, and he was alone. He was holding a bunch of flowers and he told me that Caroline, the girl who worked with me behind the counter, had told him that it was my birthday. That was when he asked me out. A week later we had our first date.
He took me to an Indian restaurant, the nicest one in town, and after we finished our meal he walked me home. The route took us through an alleyway and before I knew it I was pinned against the wall, his body pressed against mine. I couldn’t have gotten away even if I had wanted to, which I didn’t. We kissed for what seemed like forever and I was flying. I straightened myself out before I got home, before he politely handed me back to my father, who couldn’t have been oblivious to what had just passed between us. If he knew though, he didn’t show it. It might have been easier for everyone if he had just put his foot down and forbade me from leaving the house again.
I didn’t sleep that night; I was so full of excitement, I wasn’t sure I would ever sleep again. I could tell in the following days how disappointed my father was in me, but he let me live my own life. He didn’t want to be the overbearing parent, he didn’t want me to run away again.
Rocket and I became lovers, stealing moments at work and spending every other minute that we could together. He would drive me to work in the mornings – JD would sit in the back seat and say nothing – he never said anything. On Saturday afternoons, we would go to the reservoir and dip our toes in the water until one day I saw a stoat or something in the undergrowth and freaked out. After that we would drive out to the little villages that surrounded the city, each time getting slightly further and further away until eventually we would drive for over an hour before we would stop, looking for that perfect spot for us to hide.
Eventually we found a small town with a
