After Helena had left, Aidan climbed the stairs and sat down on the side of Callum’s bed. He looked around his son’s room, with its glow-in-the-dark stickers and the space rocket that Rowan had painted herself. At fourteen, Callum now thought the space theme was babyish and he and Rowan had been talking about giving the room a revamp before she died but it was another thing they would never get around to doing together.
Callum was faced away from him, looking at something on his phone. Aidan reached across and put a hand on his shoulder. ‘Callum,’ he began, pulling him back so that he had to face him. He took a deep breath. This conversation felt more important than all the others; he needed to get through to his son. He needed to make Callum see that if he didn’t stop this trail of self-destructive behaviour, then he didn’t know where he would end up. ‘Are you going to tell me what happened today? Why did you walk out of school and who were those boys that you were hanging around with down at the petrol station?’
Callum remained infuriatingly silent.
‘Who were they?’ Aidan tried again and was met with stony silence once more. ‘Well, if you’re not going to tell me, then I’ll have no choice but to go to the Gardaí and lodge a formal complaint and see if they can get to the bottom of it.’
‘Just leave it, Dad,’ Callum retorted.
‘I’m serious, Callum.’ Aidan stood up to emphasise the point. ‘It’s now or never. If you don’t tell me what happened, I’m going straight to the Guards to tell them you were assaulted by those boys.’
Aidan knew by the flicker in his son’s eyelashes that he had hit home. ‘I don’t really know them,’ he shrugged his shoulders. ‘They hang out down there.’
‘But should they not be in school?’
‘They don’t go to school,’ Callum retorted scornfully.
Aidan felt anger warming him up. What the hell was Callum doing hanging out with older boys who had dropped out of school? Suddenly, he heard Rowan’s voice in his ear telling him to stay calm; the line of communication that had just opened between them was as fragile as gossamer and he knew that one angry word might sever it completely if he didn’t keep his cool. He sat back down beside Callum on the bed.
‘Are you friends with them?’ Aidan asked, forcing his voice to stay level, even though what he really wanted to do was to shake some sense into his son.
Callum shrugged.
‘Why were you at the petrol station?’ Aidan tried.
‘I dunno… sometimes I hang out with them there.’
‘So why did these so-called “friends” hit you?’
‘They were messing around and one of them grabbed my phone and I asked him to give it back, but he kept passing it over my head, so I hit him.’
‘You hit him? You threw the first punch?’ Aidan was horrified. He looked at his son sitting on the bed beside him; compared with the other boys his age, he was still quite small. He hadn’t started his teenage growth spurt yet. Had Callum’s anger clouded his vision so much that he had thought he would stand a chance going head-to-head against a group of older lads or had he just reacted instinctively, without weighing up the risks?
‘What was I meant to do?’ Callum protested. ‘They had my phone!’
‘So what happened next?’ Aidan was fairly sure where this story was going, but he needed to hear it in Callum’s own words.
‘I grabbed it back off him, but he punched me and then they were all on top of me.’
‘Do you know how lucky you are that a black eye and a burst lip are your only injuries? If Helena hadn’t come on the scene, they could have beaten you to a pulp! These things can escalate really quickly, Callum – your safety is more important than any phone.’
‘But I had to get it back! It has all my messages from Mam and my photos of her.’
Callum’s words slammed into Aidan and his heart thudded to the floor. It all clicked into place. Now he realised why his son had seen red when his phone had been taken from him. ‘Oh, Callum,’ he softened and held his son’s face in his hands and for once Callum didn’t push him away. ‘When I got the call to say you were missing and I couldn’t find you, I was so scared. I was terrified something had happened to you and I knew that would finish me off altogether. I’m worried about you. I know you’re going through hell right now, but your mam loved you and she would hate to see you acting like this. I love you too, Callum – I love you with all my heart. I know it might not seem like it; we seem to be arguing all the time lately, but I love you so much,’ his voice choked. ‘I need you, Callum. And Milly and Jack need you too. We’re stronger as a team; the only way we can get through this is together.’
A fat tear coursed its way down Callum’s face. ‘I’m sorry, Dad,’ he began to sob, as his body sagged with defeat. His fight had left him. ‘I just miss her so much; she was always there… standing in the kitchen making breakfast in her dressing gown or asking me how my day was when I came home from school – everything has changed. I don’t understand why it had to be our family. It’s not fair!’ He lashed his foot angrily against the wooden frame of the bed.
‘You’re right, it’s not fair, I feel the exact same way, but I’ve learnt that being angry doesn’t change anything, it just eats you up. I got such a fright today, Callum, I’ve already lost your mother, I can’t lose you as well.’ Suddenly Milly flashed into his mind, that letter had changed everything, he could lose her too… He pushed it out again just as fast. He would fight for every last hair on that child’s head to keep her with him, with the people who loved her and cherished her. This was where she belonged. He knew he was being a hypocrite telling Callum to control his anger because if James O’Herlihy was in front of him right then, he would smash whatever bones had not been broken in the crash.
‘I just want it all to stop, Dad.’ Callum looked up at him and began blinking back tears. ‘It hurts too much.’
Aidan felt sorrow ball into a lump in his throat. He knew that this was grief in its purest form. Raw, painful and interminable. There were no assurances or promises he could give that would help. He knew because people had tried to do the same thing to him. Everyone meant well but no words could ever heal the brutal ache that seared your heart forever more. Callum was broken and there was nothing Aidan could do to fix him.
‘Me too, son. Come here.’ He pulled him in close and cradled his head against his chest just like when he had been a baby and he would fall asleep there, soothed by his heartbeat. He had come to an age where he usually shrugged off any form of physical affection, but he allowed Aidan to embrace him.
Rowan had always said whenever the children were acting out, that was when they needed the most affection from their parents; he had been the disciplinarian in their house while she was softer. Aidan used to think it was another of her hippy-dippy parenting philosophies, but now he could see what she meant. When had he last done this with Callum? When was the last time his little boy had cuddled in against him like this? Their first-born son; the baby he and Rowan had stared at with a mixture of awe and fear, as he slept in his Moses basket, his two hands balled into tiny fists on either side of his head. The little boy who had nervously clung to his hand on his first day of school. The same boy who had wobbled on his bike as he cycled by himself when Aidan had taken off the stabilisers, his cheeks plumped with pride as he called to Aidan, ‘Look, Daddy, I can do it!’ Aidan’s heart had been in his mouth as he ran after him in case he fell.
‘I’m sorry, Dad.’ Callum began to cry as they held one another tightly.
‘I love you so, so much, Callum,’ Aidan whispered into his son’s hair.