Page 50 of Malaise
“What? Would he really be that bad?”
“You have no idea.” He pushes the plate away and leans into the booth seat, arm slung over the back. “We didn’t talk for the first month of my HD.”
“A whole month? In the same house without a single word?”
“Yeah,” he says on a chuckle. “It was awkward as fuck.”
“Why would he do that?”
“I did it.” Carver leans forward again, elbows on the table, and cranes his head around to check who’s within earshot. “He set me up, for the theft. I was supposed to be helping him by being the sober driver—the whole heist was a stupid idea of his one night after too many at the pub—and when we both got hauled in for questioning, he played the whole ‘trying to stop my son from ruining his life’ card, made out he was there to convince me not to do it.”
“Arsehole.”
“If you want to pretty it up, yeah. He couldn’t risk another conviction that got him jail time, otherwise parole would be unlikely.”
“What changed, then? Between you two?”
A moment passes where Carver’s eyes seem to fog over; he looks at me, but he doesn’t see me. “Mum’s death.”
And here I am acting as though I’m the only one who lost someone close to them—I really am selfish. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. She’s in a better place now.” He drops back into the seat again as he drags a hand over his face. “But, all this chit-chat isn’t sorting out where you can stay for a few days.”
What the hell did he mean “a better place”? Was she sick? Was home life that bad? He can’t just leave it there.
He does.
I finish my burger in humbled silence as he pulls his phone out and taps away at the screen. The thing chimes several times between his writing sessions, and he twitches a half smile at one point that leaves me with a pang of unjustified jealousy.
“Old man’s passed out on the couch,” he informs me. “Tanya said he went after the hair of the dog, and two beers in he was down for the count.”
“You and Tanya are close, huh?” Totally unjustified jealousy.
“We bonded, I guess you’d call it, over Mum’s funeral. Dad went AWOL and it was left up to us to arrange everything.”
“I guess our situations aren’t very different when you think about it.”
He shakes his head, a sardonic smile on his face. “Babe, they’re way different. You tried to fix things with your parents. Tanya and me? We’re stuck in this routine of denying there’s any real problem to sort out with Dad.”
I wipe my mouth with the paper napkin and ball it up on the empty plate before me. “Can I meet him?”
“What the fuck for? Have you listened to a thing I’ve said?”
“Maybe he won’t be so bad with me? What if I show him his bullying doesn’t affect me?”
“You’re living in a dream,” Carver bites back. “He’s got this… this way of getting under your skin.” He hunches his shoulders, his face screwed up in distaste. “He just eats at you until you break, and then he revels in it, the pain he’s caused you. The guy’s a fucking masochist, and there were days I seriously believed Mum had us kids so she had at least one person in the house that loved her. He’s just… he’s an arsehole, Meg, just like you said, and there’s no reason why you need him anywhere near your life.”
“Can I borrow seventy-five bucks then?” I lean back in my seat and cross my arms.
“What for?” he asks, exasperated.
“If I can’t shower at your place, or even show my face there, I need somewhere to stay the night. The motel near my work costs seventy-five a night.”
“No way in hell I’m letting you stay there on your own.” His eyes hold a fire I’m not sure I feel all that uncomfortable about. It’s the most interest anyone’s shown toward my welfare in a long time.
“So stay with me.” Where the fuck did that come from? I stay the course, upholding my false bravery while inside I melt into a puddle of nerves.
Carver holds my gaze captive across the table, his eyes searching mine, for what, I don’t know. “Would you like that?” The resonance of his low words tickles me deep inside.
“Yeah, I think I would.”
“I think I would too.”