A slap on my back pulls me from the stare down I’ve been having with my pint of Guinness. My head tilts over my right shoulder and I see Pete pulling out a stool to sit down. I give him a nod.
“What did I miss?” He asks, concern filling his voice.
My right hand reaches down, picking up the pint. I take a heavy swig before letting it slide down my throat. “About four of these,” I hold up the now empty glass, “and five of those,” I say, pointing to the empty shot glass.
I don’t want to look at him because I already know the face he’s making. Ethan, his poor cousin who lost his father, and has been wallowing away at the pub on the anniversary of his death. I should have come sooner to be with him. Only the joke’s on Pete. I don’t need anybody today, but my Dad, and he can’t make it.
I yell out, “Fiona! My mate here needs to catch up.” Fiona, a petite little redhead with the cutest smile shimmies over with a bottle of Jack, pouring two shots. She steps over to her left to start two more pints of Guinness before walking away, but stops to look back at us. “Be back with the pints in a minute, boys.” She has a heavy accent, so I instantly peg her from Liverpool. I should probably ask her, but I don’t.
Pete downs his shot then rests his hand on my shoulder. “Sorry, mate. I can’t even imagine what it’s like. I wish he could be here.”
I know he’s genuine and means well, but I just shrug and wait for the next round.
Fiona walks over a few moments later with our perfectly poured pints, lifting it to my mouth, I hesitate, “To my Dad.”
Pete grabs his as well then raises his glass in the air. “To your Dad.”
The silence feels good as Pete and I sit, drinking another. Pete knows how to be a good friend, giving me the space and time I need. And what I need right now is another pint.
I grip onto the ledge of the bar like it’s going to hold me up. One more should about make all the pain go away, so I sit up as straight as I can. “Fiona, love can I get another?”
She reaches out and thumbs my chin. “I think you’ve had enough, love.” I grab her hand and for some odd reason, pull it to my mouth to kiss it. She laughs, but didn’t move away.
My fingers begin to work their way up her arm when Pete’s hand clamps down on mine. “So, Sophie will be here next week. Are you excited?”
“Sophie,” I mumble, without looking at him. “Of course I’m excited.”
“You’re not acting like it, Ethan. I know you’re upset, but this is Sophie we’re talking here. Don’t you dare do this to her.”
I fling his arm off mine. “I didn’t do anything wrong, Pete.” “I think Sophie would disagree.” “Sophie would understand that I’m just pissed drunk.” Pete stands up and leans in close to my face. “You know I’d do anything for you, but if you hurt our girl, I’ll beat the living shit out of ya. Now let’s go.” I shove him away. “She’s not our girl, she’s my girl, Pete. So lay off,” I yell, causing the whole place to turn and watch.
Pete throws down some money and then grabs me by the arm, tugging me outside. What can I say or do? He’s probably right, he’ll kick my arse unless Sophie beats him to it. So I let him pull me out into the cold night. The wind has picked up since I entered the pub where I had set out to drown my sorrows. The anniversary of my father’s death is hard to handle, but finding out my mother has breast cancer is too much for me to wrap my head around.
Why is life being so cruel to me? Believing in God no longer feels like an option. If he’s real, I’d like to think he is man enough to show his arse to me in person. Or, maybe he’s just a coward, and didn’t want to face me since he already has taken my Dad away, and now he’s thinking of taking my Mum. I can’t let that happen.
We’re making our way toward Pete’s flat, well our flat, when my foot hits a hole, causing me to fall flat on my face. “Fuck! That hurt.”
Pete leans down, grabs both of my arms, hoisting me to a stand. “What’s wrong? What’s going on, Ethan? I’ve never see you so messed up.”
He wraps his arm around my chest and under my arm, trying to hold me up. “God is fucking with me, Pete.”
“What are talking about?”
I stop to lean against the window of a small Italian restaurant that we frequent. We’re almost to Pete’s. For some reason I still can’t call it ours, since Claire lives with us too. Eventually, they’ll kick me out. If only my feet would move, but they won’t. My body slumps down onto the cold concrete, then my head falls into my hands.
“My Mum has cancer, and it’s all my fault,” I manage to get out, in between the screaming in my own head telling me to shut up. My mother doesn’t want anyone to know yet, but needing to tell someone overcomes keeping her secret. I thought I was going to burst keeping it in.
Peter slumps down next to me, sighing heavily, shaking his head back and forth. A moment later his arm is wrapped around me. “Shit! I’m so sorry, mate.” Examining me closely, he sternly adds, “You have to know it’s not your fault.”
I pull away, resting my head on my knees. “But, it is. If it weren’t for me losing it when my Dad died she would’ve found out earlier. If it weren’t for moving me here, she might have found out sooner.”
“How do you know that?” “She told me so.” “Ethan look at me,” he says softly. “I’m sure you misunderstood. What exactly did she say to you?” My head rises from my knees to look over at him. “She said she hadn’t gotten her yearly, because she forgot when we moved. I’d been going through so much, that she let some things pass that weren’t important at the time. NOT important! Can you imagine her thinking that? And, now she’s bloody going to die because of me.” Pushing off the wall, I somehow manage to stand. How I haven’t thrown up yet is beyond me.
Peter pulls me to his side, steering me to the stairwell. His loft is at the top. One that I am positive I won’t be able to reach without his help.
At the top of the landing, he turns to me. “It’s not your fault. We’ll figure something out together. For now just go to your room and sleep it off.” And, I do, right after I finish ruining my shirt and trousers with everything that I’d drank that night.
Waking up in your own vomit and drool is not a good way to start the day. I quickly say a vow to never let myself get that pissed again. My mouth feels like a zillion cotton balls, my tongue is coated with god knows what, my head throbs, and I smell. I can literally smell myself.
“I bet you feel just the way you look,” Pete says after he glances up from his toast, shaking his head at the sight of me as I walk out of my room. Feeling like hell has washed over me, I yank out a chair to sit. If my head continues to throb like this for the rest of the day, I’ll be no use to my Mum. Claire walks by, placing a bottle of aspirin in front on me with a tall glass of water. I pop open the bottle, and down three just to be on the safe side. Pete grabs her hand and pulls her onto his lap, kissing her good morning. I feel like I’ll be sick all over again.
Claire’s all right, but there’s been something I can’t put my finger on lately that bothers the hell out of me. She has started to stay out late, sometimes not coming home at all, and makes lame excuses up as to why. I’ve never told Pete that I don’t trust her, how can I? He’s in love. That girl can’t do anything wrong in his eyes. I’ve even thought about following her, but it’s almost like she senses it, since she dodges me before leaving. Claire jumps out of his embrace like he’s Satan, then smoothes her skirt down.
“Can I give you a lift anywhere, Ethan? To see your Mum?” Pete asks me, never taking his eyes off Claire.
A ride would have been nice, but the only thing I want to do is clear my head. “Thanks, but I’m going to walk for a little while.” He didn’t say anything, but gave me a small smile and a quick nod of understanding.
Claire saunters up to me crossing her arms. “You could at least thank me for cleaning up after you last night, Ethan.”
A moan escapes from my mouth before I sigh heavily, “Thanks, Claire. It won’t happen again.”
My eyes shift toward Pete then he mouths, “Sorry.” I know she’s just proper and all, but whenever she speaks to me, her voice reminds me of nails on a chalkboard.
Shuffling down the few flights of stairs my mobile rings. Glancing at the number, I can’t answer it fast enough. “Mum, is everything okay?”
“Of course. I was just wondering if you were all right, love?” She pauses, but then says, “You said you’d stay over and keep me company tonight. I have my appointment tomorrow, and you said you’d like to join me.”
“Of course. I’ll pop in a taxi and be home as soon as possible.” “Take your time,” she tells me. Glancing quickly down at my watch reassures me that she’s right. I have plenty of time to get there, so I pass on the idea of a taxi and continue to walk. It’s a couple of kilometers away, but I don’t care. It’s cold, even though the sun is out, which feels good beating down on my face. Walking gives me time to think about my Mum, Sophie coming for a semester, and how the hell I’m going to manage the two of them at the same time.
Excitement floods my veins about seeing Sophie again. A hint of a smile plays at my lips, but is quickly replaced by a frown. I am ecstatic to see her, but spending time with my Mum is a priority right now. I will not lose another parent. I cannot, and I will not. Sophie will just have to understand.