Three Different Chats

My tea was still hot and I blew on it. Dad was already refilling the kettle. He always drank his coffee quick. It was why he drank so much. I could see his fingers shaking as he measured out the coffee granules. He swore under his breath when he spilt it on the counter. 

 “Do you want me to get that?” 

 “No!” he shouted, gripping his mug to stable himself. He knocked the coffee onto the linoleum floor with the side of his hand. 

 “I’ll sweep it later,” he said. “Just sit down. I’ll be through in a second.” 

Dad isn’t my real dad. I just call him that. I mean he is my real dad. He just not... what’s the word? Biological. Not that I would’ve known. He was the only man who’d been in my life. Honestly, I wish him and Mum had never told me. I mean, what was the difference. You know your dad’s sperm? Well that’s not you. Gross! 

 I heard him slurp his coffee. Ugh. He was scared of spilling it so he had to take some big suck on the side of his cup before picking it up. 

 “Why even fill to so full?” I said. 

 Dad didn’t notice. He was in a world of his own. I wondered how much he knew. 

 “I need to speak to you about your mother.” 

 Shit. Seriously? 

 “No,” he said. “Don’t roll your eyes. I know something’s up and you must-” 

 He was interrupted by George crying. Dad shut his eyes in annoyance. This conversation was obviously not going the way he wanted it to. I could tell that he was deciding whether to continue or not. His needs won out. 

 “You must know something.” 

 “Jesus, Dad. Give him his dummy. What’s the matter? Can’t you hear him or somet’?” 

 I felt bad talking to him like that, especially with what he was going through, you know, but I mean, seriously? He couldn’t even hold his hands steady as he put the dummy in George’s mouth. I couldn’t help it but I just felt disgusted at him. 

 “Come on, Georgie, take it. Open your mouth. Open Georgie. Oh fine,” he said, throwing the dummy across the room. “Fucking cry then. I tried to help you.” 

 He drank his coffee in one go and went back into the kitchen with his mug. George screamed. I considered giving him his dummy but I was stuck to the couch. I just wanted this moment to end. I wanted to be at school, or asleep, or better yet, buried in the ground feeling nothing and not having to deal with everyone else’s shit. 

 “Now listen to me, Megan” he called through. His voice cracked as he said my name. “I don’t like this any more than you do but I need some answers.” 

 I don’t know anything so just fuck off and ask Mum. Or are you too scared? 

 I tried to say that but my jaw was bolted shut. My throat was dry and my tongue tasted disgusting in my mouth. 

 Sluuuuuuu... rrrrr... p! 

 He came in. 

 “What has your mum told you?” 

 My jaw unclenched enough for me to ask “About what?” 

 He didn’t say anything. He just stared at me. Those eyes said You know damn well what, you little bitch, but I’m not going to be the one of us to say what it is. 

 “About what?” I asked again, sounding more angrier this time. I was pissed off at him, pissed off at Mum and the other guy and George was just giving me a headache. 

 “Where is your mother?” 

 I shrugged. 

 “Don’t shrug at me.” 

 “I don’t know,” I shouted. George cried louder. “You asked me a question. I didn’t know. A shrug means I don’t know. So I shrugged okay?” 

 “It’s very rude to-” 

 “Are you going to pick him up or change his nappy or somet’, like a dad would, or are you just gonna keep sitting there having a go at me?” 

 “Should I?” 

 “What?” 

 “Do you think I should bother with George?” he asked. 

 “What are you on about?” 

“Do you think I should bother looking after a boy who may not be my son?” 

 I tried to act surprised but I didn’t respond quickly enough. 

 “See,” he said. “You can’t even fucking deny it!” 

 I teared up. I didn’t mean to, I just can’t control it. I’ve never been good at confrontation. When people raise their voice at me, I just feel so guilty and I just give in and I... I... 

I was gone. 

 I was crying into my hands. I looked an absolute mess and I didn’t even care. I hadn’t done anything wrong. It was her! What was I supposed to do? I wished I was living in my own house with my own money and I wouldn’t have to get in trouble for other people’s mistakes. I would just be good to people. I didn’t get why people grew up and decided to be arseholes to people. It just brought more rubbish to deal with themselves. 

 “Go ask Mum! I didn’t do it!” 

 Except I didn’t say that. I couldn’t do anything but cry. It was all her fault! Her and that man. That man she had told me about. Why? 

 She’d said it so casually. It was a night when Dad has out. I think it was Henry’s retirement party, from his office. 

 “Megan, I don’t love your father any more. I’ve been speaking with a nice man on Facebook and he’s asked me to meet him. Do you think I should?” 

 Did I think she should? Was she actually for real? I’m so bad at things like this. I should have told her straight. I should have said Don’t you dare. You’re going to block that man, delete the messages, say nothing to Dad and just go get couple’s therapy or somet’ like that till you fall in love again. Instead I pretended I hadn’t heard anything. I carried on eating and watching telly. 

 Mum shrugged and said “Just thought you’d want to know.” After Tipping Point finished, I went to bed and it was never brought up again. I basically convinced myself it never happened. 

 But it did happen. And somehow Dad had found out about it. I don’t know how, but he did. 

 “Tell me!” 

 “Why don’t you ask her?” I finally shouted. I didn’t mean to. It just sort of came out. “Why are you having a go at me? Eh? Are you scared or somet’? Scared to ask her and get a real answer? Scared of her saying you’re right, she did cheat on you and you need to get out?” 

 That took his wind out. I expected him to shat at me and call me names. Instead, he sat looking all sad and then went and picked George up. I went to my room. 

 Mum came home later on. I put my headphones in and ignored them both. I imagined what I would do when I moved out. When me and Pete had our own family and our own house. We wouldn’t cheat. We wouldn’t cause fights and keep secrets from each other. It was too much hard work. It was easier to just get along. 

 “Meg! I’ve been shouting you. Take your earphones off.” 

 “What?” 

 “Tea’s ready. Come down.” 

 I held out for as long as I could but eventually had to go down and eat something. My tea was in the microwave. Sausage, egg and beans. I heated it up and joined them in the front. 

 Mum and Dad were sat together on the couch, where I’d been crying earlier. Dad had two empty plates on his lap. He had Mum’s hand in his. 

 “Hi darling,” Mum said. “Have you checked it’s warm all through?” 

 “What’s going on?” 

 “What do you mean?” 

 “You two. Sitting like that.” 

 “We’re allowed,” said Dad. “We might be old but we still like to hold hands, you know.” 

 “I thought you were arguing.” 

 “We were... But we’re not now.” 

 “We decided it wasn’t worth it.” 

 “What?” 

 “What does arguing help? We’re a family and... really, that’s all that matters. Nothing else.” 

 “Are you for real?” 

 “Come on, Megan. Calm down. Your father and I have made a grown-up decision. I don’t expect you to understand how.” 

 “I am not a child!” I shouted. 

 “Well you’re bloody acting like one. It’s like you want this family to fall apart.” 

 Of course I didn’t. I think I didn’t I don’t want people to fight. I just... I dunno. I wanted something. Some resolution after all the fighting. All the worry. I thought I’d understand better when I got married myself. I actually understood a lot better when I got divorced. The first time. I don’t know what I would’ve done in their shoes. But I got my wish. I have my own place. I have my own money. I don’t have to suffer for other people’s mistakes any more. Just my own.