“Leave it with me. How have you been? Drink?” I asked.
“A bit early, isn’t it? Even for you,” Dad commented dryly.
“I meant a coffee,” I replied, narrowing my eyes. He shook his head, glancing at his watch. Like every other time we met, he had somewhere else to be. Everything was more important than spending time with me.
“No, I have to get going. How are you?” he added, almost as an afterthought. It was laughable just how bad he was at being a parent, and it was embarrassing how much I cared. When I was a teenager I went through a stage of acting out in order to get his attention, which landed me in hot water with the law. In order to avoid a criminal record I had agreed to therapy. My court-appointed shrink had plenty to work on when it came to my issues. Abandonment, hostility and anger toward my father, depression, and a fear of intimacy…And that was all from our first session.
My mum left when I’d just hit puberty, and my dad treated me with as much respect as something on the bottom of his shoe. He said it was no wonder I behaved the way I did. Therapy didn’t extend past the ten mandatory sessions and I’d never had any since. Unless you counted Alex’s multiple attempts to ‘shrink’ me. He did that a lot.
“I’m fine. Alex says hi, by the way,” I said. I hadn’t even spoken to my brother, but I couldn’t resist opportunity of making Dad feel uncomfortable—and nothing did that quite like the mention of Alex. He stiffened, my words cutting through him like a knife. He took a deep breath then left without as much as a goodbye.
***
“Hey you.” At least there was someone to meet me at the door when I got home from work.
Kneeling down, I ran my hand over Mr. Jefferies thick black coat as little strands of fur floated through the air, drifting downwards before landing on my pants. This was why I spent so much on dry-cleaning. That and my inability to eat an egg and bacon wrap without soiling myself. He purred anxiously and rubbed himself against my arm, angry at being left alone all day but happy to see me. The complexities of being a house cat.
I scooped him into my arms, tickling his chin as I carried him over to the sofa. His annoyance gave way to his craving for attention as he madly rubbed himself up against me, begging for more pats. He was good; it was like he knew I felt bad leaving him alone all the time, so he played that against me. Flicking on the television, I checked my messages.
Luke had called again to remind me of next week’s dinner. Fuck, he was persistent. The more he went on about this dinner, the more nervous I got. I had a feeling I knew what this was about, and if I was right, this dinner was going to suck big time.
I thought back to my meeting with Dad. What was supposed to have been a lunch meeting had lasted four-and-a-half minutes before he bailed. I should’ve been used to it by now, but no matter how often he disappointed me, it still hurt. Maybe Alex had the right idea: cutting all ties with him and leaving the country. He seemed happy, living it up with his girlfriend in Los Angeles.
Happier than me anyway.
I was big on pretending everything was great, but the truth was, more often than not I hated my life. I drank too much because it dulled the pain I felt when I thought about my parents, and I treated women like shit because it made me feel in control of something. Even my career was not something I had achieved—not according to Dad, anyway. He never let an opportunity slip by to remind me it was because of him I had this lustrous lifestyle and amazing job, as if he could take it all away at any moment.
My life was a mess and I saw no way out of the hole I felt trapped in. I kept living my life the only way I knew how. Every day felt like the same never-ending downward spiral. I even resented Alex for leaving me alone to deal with my father—that’s how fucked up this shit was. Why was he able to get out, yet I was stuck here in this soul-destroying life?
Dialing Alex’s number, I waited impatiently as it rang. Finally, he answered.
“Jack. How are you?” he said, sounding pleased to hear from me. I always called in the evenings because it was the only time I could be sure he’d be awake.
“Not bad, how are you?” I asked, pushing the cat out of the way so I could sit back down. No sooner than my ass had touched the leather fabric of the couch he was purring in my lap. I stroked his chin gently.
“Yeah I’m good. Work keeps me busy, but it pays the bills,” he chuckled. “So what’s happening back there? Has my older brother got himself a girl yet?”
“You know me, I’ve got many girls. None of them special though,” I laughed. Alex was obsessed with me finding a woman. Every time we spoke he asked me the same question, even though the answer never changed. Younger than me by two years, you’d be forgiven for thinking he was the older of us. Levelheaded and focused, he’d done whatever he needed to achieve his goals. Sure, I was great at getting what I wanted, but Alex did it with poise and respect. People liked my brother, whereas they were intimidated by me.
It scared me sometimes how alike my father and I were.
“Keep looking, Jack, you’ll meet her. How’s Dad?” His tone changed, the hurt and abandonment he felt over being excluded by our father still so raw, even after three years.
“Pigheaded, rude, and selfish. You know, the same,” I quipped, making him laugh.
“When are you going to get over here and visit me? There’s a whole country of women here you haven’t slept with yet,” he joked.
“I’ll get over there soon,” I promised, ignoring his dig. “I wouldn’t want to deny the women of L.A. the pleasure of my company,” I added, chuckling.
“That would be good. I really miss you, Jack. It would be great to catch up.”
“Yeah, it would be,” I agreed. I wiped my eyes, glad that I was alone. If anyone caught wind of this it would ruin my reputation. Jack Falcon showing emotion was like an honest politician: nobody would ever believe it. “You know what? I’ll do it. Give me a few weeks and I’ll take a week off and come over.”
“Really?” Alex sounded shocked.
“Yes, really. I can take time off, you know.” I said, not admitting that I was surprised myself. In three years I’d never taken time off. My holidays would’ve accumulated to quite a nice little amount by now. I laughed, imagining Dad’s face if I told him I was taking all my leave to go and visit Alex. It would almost be worth doing just to capture that look.
Chapter Four