Bang Gang

She let out a breath. “Good,” she said. “Is Mia alright?”

“No,” I snapped. “She’s not fucking alright. Hasn’t been fucking alright for weeks from what I can fucking make of it.”

She held up her hands. “I thought it was sorted. I sorted it, Darren. With the school. Mrs Webber said they have a zero tolerance policy on bullying. I told her everything! She said she’d sort it!”

“Yeah, well, what about telling me, Jodie? What about what I’d have to fucking say on it?” I took a drag. “I guess that didn’t mean shit to you, did it? Keep fucking Trent out of it, he’ll only cause fucking trouble.”

She shook her head. “It wasn’t like that. I didn’t mean it like that.”

But that’s exactly how she meant it.

I felt the twitch again.

I stared at her but she wasn’t looking at me. Couldn’t look at me.

“Don’t ever keep anything like this from me again, Jodie, I fucking mean it. I’m their fucking dad. They’re my fucking girls, too. You’ve no fucking right to cut me out like that.”

“I know,” she said. “Darren, I’m sorry. I should have said… I just didn’t think…”

“No,” I said. “You fucking didn’t.”

I turned my back on her and went to the truck. Stubbed my cigarette on the pavement and climbed in. My jaw was gritted, my temper at red, that horrible feeling in my gut that said I wasn’t a part of this family anymore, not when it mattered. Jodie was at the door before I pulled away. She yanked it open and stood with her arms folded.

“What are you doing?” she said.

“Need some space,” I said. “Let me go.”

She sighed. “Pub? A pint or ten down the Drum? Get yourself wasted and pick a fight with Buck? Or Jimmy? Take it out on little Petey?”

I didn’t say a thing.

“That’ll make you feel better, will it, Darren?” Her voice was strained. “I said I’m sorry. I said I should’ve told you.”

My fingers tapped on the wheel.

“What else do you want me to say?” she said. “I didn’t tell you because I thought I could handle it. I thought the school would deal with it. I didn’t want to bother you with it. Yes, because I was worried you’d fly off the handle and go causing a massive fucking scene, Darren, just when everyone’s stopped talking about us and all our shit.”

I stared ahead, my insides fucking knotted up.

“You think I don’t know that you’re their dad? That I don’t see it every day, that I don’t hear it from them every day? You really think I believe you’re too unimportant to care about?”

“Don’t you?” I met her eyes. “Good for nothing but my temper, isn’t that right, Jo? Too fucking bull-headed, too blunt. Better get them a new fucking daddy. A nice daddy who doesn’t swear and plays golf and wears tweed and likes opera and fucking quinoa and lavender. That kind of daddy, eh?”

“He was never their dad, Darren, not even close,” she said.

“Yeah, well, not for the want of trying, eh?”

“Brian was a mistake.”

“A long fucking mistake, Jo. Would you have told him about Tyler fucking Dean? Bet he could have went to Mrs Webber’s office and pulled a stern face along with you. Called the cunt a naughty little hooligan.”

“I would never have taken Brian to Mrs Webber’s office! It was never that serious. It’s not like I was engaged to the guy!”

It knocked me in the gut. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

She took a step back, and her expression was full of pain. “Nine months, Darren, maybe slightly less. Nine months to propose to Stacey, to introduce a new mum to our girls. She had them picking out fucking bridesmaid dresses before Ruby even knew what a bridesmaid was!”

“Like I had anything to do with that, Jo.” I shook my head. “Fuck this shit, I need to get out of here, got shit to do.”

“Client waiting?”

“No!” I snapped. “I just need some fucking space!” I was too loud, too harsh. I closed my eyes, took a breath. “I’m not going to a client, Jo. I just need to get out of here.”

“Fine,” she said, and her voice was weak and broken. I turned to her and her eyes were glassy, just like Mia’s had been, her lip shaky.

It’d been a long fucking time since I’d seen her like this.

“I said sorry,” she said, but it was just a breath.

I swallowed, and the pub was calling me, the thought of a cold pint, a load of mindless chatter. Shit. It was all shit.

“Don’t be upset,” I said.

“Go,” she said. “Leave, like you always leave when you get pissed off, when things get too fucking hard for you, when I get upset, when I get angry.” Her breath was ragged. “Go!” she snapped. “Leave me, leave us! I’ll just sort it out, like I sort everything. Come back when you feel like it, when you’ve drunk yourself stupid and punched someone, when you feel all-fucking-right again.”