Page 31 of Malaise
“No, but neither should be your love.” I push out from the table and rise. “You two lost your son, and I lost my brother. It should have united us, made us treasure what we have left, but instead it’s highlighted how dysfunctional we always were.”
He doesn’t respond—simply takes a pull from his bottle.
“Yeah, as I thought. Just brush the problem under the carpet again, huh?”
“Cut it out.” The low resonance in his words freezes me to the spot. “Just stop with this bullshit, Meg. Stop it!”
“I’ll stop it when you accept that the problems with our family aren’t all my fault.” My heart echoes in my ears, the blood in my veins a turbulent rip tide under my skin.
He takes another deliberately slow draw of his beer and sets it down on the table, turning the bottle with a scrape so it shows the label front and centre. “Exams are next week; we haven’t signed any paperwork, so I assume you’re going ahead with them.”
I nod. My jaw aches with the pressure I have it under. I won’t cry. I won’t break because he wants me to.
“School officially ends the week after. Either you change your attitude by then, or I want you to start looking for somewhere else to live.”
What the fuck? “You can’t do—”
“Your mother needs a positive environment to come home to if she’s expected to work through her grief. Your childish temper tantrums about how ‘unfair’ we’re being to you are only going to set her recovery back.”
He’s blaming me for the fact she struggles to move forward. “Are you serious?” It’s only been three days since Den died; I don’t expect her to get over it, I just expect her to let me join in the anguish without passing judgment.
“I’m serious as a heart attack, Meg. You have two weeks to get your head out of your arse and commit to this family.”
“Or you simply shut me out.”
“I do what I have to.” He takes a last mouthful of the beer and turns his head to pin me under his weighty stare. “You’ve left us little choice with your behaviour this past week. You’ve always been trouble, but this drinking, this running off without returning any calls, it’s a new low, even for you.”
Hot, fat tears spill over. “Jesus, Dad. Go easy on the accolades, huh?”
“Meg….” He dips his chin, eyes hard as he stares out from under his brow, a gentle warning to cool off.
The fire rages. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be the perfect child for you, that I’m such a fucking failure and a disappointment to you both.”
“You have no one to blame but yourself, missy.” He swivels in his seat, an elbow braced on the table as he tenses up.
“Most of all,” I blubber, wiping my nose with the back of my wrist. “Most of all I’m sorry that it was Den who died, and not me. It’s clear who you would have preferred to have been left with, and it’s sure as fuck not me.”
He opens his mouth to protest, but the handle rattles as the front door opens. Dad gives me a look that says “Sort your shit out before she walks in here.” I narrow my watery eyes on him, barely able to make out his shape through the blur, and give my best “get fucked” look in return.
Mum appears in the kitchen doorway, bags in hand. “I could use some help with…. What’s going on in here?”
I look pointedly at Dad, indicating he can answer.
“Megan was just saying how she’s been thinking of moving out once school finishes, getting started on being independent.”
Fucker.
“Is that true?” Mum asks, shocked.
Clearly this wasn’t something they’d discussed, then. “Apparently.” I wipe away the residual tears.
“Why?” She looks between the two of us. “And why are you upset about it?”
“Dad?” I ask, sickly sweet. “Care to fill her in?”
He rises from his seat and calmly places his empty beer bottle in the recycling bin. “She’s not upset, Diane. She was getting a little emotional when I was telling her how proud I am of her decision to turn things around and be a little more mature—especially in such hard times for us all.”
Oooo, you…. “I was telling Dad I didn’t want to be a burden, either.”