Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine

Alfie

H ow did people do this? There were people at college who seemed to be able to focus for endless periods of time. The ones who got all the top grades because they could study all night and never get bored.

Not me.

I'd been studying for a geography assessment for less than half an hour, and I was already considering rewarding myself with a snack and a quick game of FIFA on the Xbox.

Plucking my AirPods out and shoving them in their case, I frowned when the music stopped and the racket they'd been comfortably drowning out hit my ears full force.

My parents were… arguing? They never argued. At least, Mum never argued. Dad was always going off about something but the volume never really rose in our house because Mum never spoke in anything other than something just above a whisper. But that was definitely her. And she was shouting.

Maybe the house was about to fall down or on fire or something because they were the only reasons I could think of for her to raise her voice like that.

Shuffling off my bed, I tiptoed to the door and pulled it open a crack to listen.

"… put up with it for long enough. I'm done. Get your own dinner."

"Christ, are you on the rag or something? Have a bloody bar of chocolate and chill out, for heaven's sake, woman."

"Don't. Call. Me. Woman! " she practically screamed, and her voice was followed by a smashing sound that made me wince. "I have a name, dammit. I have an identity all of my own. At least, I did until I married you."

"I pulled you from the gutter, you ungrateful cow, and I can just as easily shove you back there. Just say the word."

The air was thick with silence for a few long, torturous seconds before the sound of the front door slamming in its frame somehow rattled the entire house.

I stood there, frozen, my ear still pressed against the gap between the door and the frame, unable to move.

Who had left?

And would they come back?

The silence that shrouded the house was deafening, and I found that I couldn't even breathe normally for fear of breaking it. I just stood there, torn between finding out what was happening downstairs and not wanting to know. The room grew slowly darker as the sun fell in the sky, and still I was caught in limbo.

Another smash broke me from my frozen state and without even thinking, I was racing down the stairs and slamming into the kitchen. I slid to a stop on the marble floor in my socks at the sight of my mum standing over the sink, her shoulders shaking, the shattered stem of a wine glass clutched tightly in her hand.

"Mum…?" I questioned softly, shifting closer until I could see tears streaming down her cheeks.

"Oh, Alfie!" She gasped at the sight of me and instantly started to swipe at her cheeks as though I hadn't already seen the evidence of her pain. "Sorry, sweetheart. I broke a glass and… Silly me, I got upset about it."

I stared at her silently for a long, drawn-out moment, my eyes scanning her more carefully than they ever had before, taking in her defeated posture, the dark circles under her eyes that no amount of makeup had been able to cover. And god, the unhappiness that stared back at me almost brought me to my knees.

"I heard you arguing, Mum. You don't have to lie to me."

She sighed, shaking her head as fresh tears began their descent down her careworn face. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I wouldn't have you listen to that for the world."

"What happened?" I asked, my voice almost as soft as hers as I cupped her elbow with my hand and steered her towards the dining table where she slumped into one of the chairs and dropped her head into her hands.

"Oh, everything and nothing."

"That's not an answer," I pushed.

"I'm just tired, sweetheart. So very tired."

"Tired…"

"Tired," she confirmed. "Tired of constantly tabling my dreams because they don't align with what your father wants for his life. Tired of being treated like an object whose only purpose is to make his life easier. Tired of his attitudes towards not just me, but all women. I don't want you to grow up with those ideals, but I fear I'm too late."

"Too late?" I parroted as though I were suddenly incapable of forming my own words.

She'd always seemed happy enough to me. Sure, Dad could be dismissive and made fun of her sometimes but she always smiled. I'd assumed that she liked it.

"The way you treat those girls of yours and talk to your father about them… You're your father's son, through and through," she said with a sad shake of her head.

Minutes earlier, I would have taken her words as a compliment. After all, my dad was successful, wealthy, well liked and, I'd thought, happily married. Now, though, the bitterness in her tone made me flinch.

"But… they all know what I'm willing to give before we get into it," I argued feebly, while unwelcome images of Summer's hurt face haunted my mind.

"Not even you sound like you truly believe that, son," she said sadly. "Do better, or I fear you'll wind up a very lonely person, just like your father is going to be."

Then, swiping at tears that forced their way free from her eyes, she made for the door, leaving me staring numbly at the space she'd occupied only seconds before, my mind buzzing with tidal waves of unwanted thoughts.