Absolution(11)

“Just a little, nothing major.”

“Would a massage help?”

“No, it’s okay. But thanks.”

She reached up to scrape her hair back from her face with a bone-weary sigh, holding it there for a moment behind her head before letting it tumble down around her shoulders again.

“I don’t want to talk to him,” she said. “I don’t really think there’s any point now. I don’t know if we have anything to say to each other after all this time. I mean, his actions spoke for themselves, didn’t they?”

Callum nodded slowly, waiting as she talked it through.

“But, on the other hand, I think I need to hear him say it, anyway – whatever the excuse is, whatever he’s told himself was the reason.” He had no idea who she thought she was convincing. “I guess I just want him to know that I’m alright, that I didn’t need him – that I don’t need him.”

She had to know that was a lie, just like he did, but he didn’t call her on it. If that’s what she was hanging on to, he didn’t want to be the one to take it away from her.

“Whatever you want to do, I’ve got your back – we all have.”

“I know. Thanks.”

He picked up his coffee mug and took a long sip. He’d thought he knew Jack inside out – they had been inseparable since they were eleven years old. He knew how guilty Jack felt after the accident – hell, he was there – but you didn’t let it get to you like that. You pushed it down, you did what you could to help. You didn’t let it tear your life apart, that was just plain selfish. Jack had let it rip him away from his home, his family, his life, everyone he knew and loved. Why did he have to leave like that, without a word to anyone? Didn’t he know that they needed him back here?

“I dreamt about him last night – Tom,” Ally said, interrupting his thoughts. “I miss him.”

Callum reached across the table for her hand. “We’ll get through this.”

“He should be here. With Jack coming home, I always thought he would be here.”

“It’s gonna be okay. I promise.”

She pulled her hand out of his grasp and wiped her eyes. She was putting on a brave face, but he could see right through the illusion. She had already lost her own father, and now she had lost her surrogate father, too. She was right, it would have been easier if Tom had been here for Jack’s return. Somehow, he had a way of making sure everybody kept their heads.



Pulling up in front of his childhood home, the memories rushed in on Jack. The house looked the same as when he left. He wondered how that could be – how could this symbol of family remain intact when the family within had been torn asunder? He climbed out of the car, singling out the one key he had retained from all those years ago. He stared at it for a moment in the palm of his hand, swallowing hard. Memories pounded at his brain and he had to firmly push them away. He needed to keep them at bay as long as possible. He needed to get through this first.

He slung his duffel bag over his shoulder and headed up the path towards the house. The wooden stairs creaked ominously beneath his feet as he climbed, and he felt like the whole neighbourhood was watching. He unlocked the front door and stepped into the hall.

Home.

Everything looked the same – it even smelt the same. A deep ache settled in the pit of his stomach as he pushed the front door closed and placed his bag on the floor beside it. Jamming his hands into his pockets, he took a few steps, stopping in the living room doorway.

A heart attack, Callum had said, in the living room. His father had died in this room. It was so quiet, he felt like an intruder. There was no noise, save the slow, rhythmic ticking of the clock on the mantelpiece above the fireplace. It was the room that time forgot. Nothing had changed and everything had changed.

He looked over at the kitchen doorway, half expecting his father to come through it any minute now. A shuddering breath rumbled through him and he sank down into the nearest armchair.

What if he wasn’t strong enough? What if he messed things up even more, just by being here? What if he couldn’t bring himself to see her? What if she didn’t want to talk to him?

What if I can’t do this, Dad?

Over the past couple of days, he had tried to imagine how this would go – he tried to see the funeral and the conversations with Ally and Callum in his head. Every time it ended badly – anything other than that had to be a fantasy, surely? After all, the mere fact that he was here was too little, too late.