‘Bacon, scrambled eggs, sausages and beans on toast?’ I asked hopefully.
‘Croissants,’ Dad replied.
I’d settle for that. I fancied something a bit tastier than my usual cereal this morning. ‘Shall I pop up and see if Adam might come down and join us?’ I asked as I put Emma in her highchair.
‘Is it likely?’ asked Dad.
‘He might. He let Emma see his face last night.’ I grinned.
‘Really?’ said Dad, surprised. ‘How did you manage that?’
‘I didn’t. Emma did.’
‘Clever girl.’ Dad smiled at her, before turning back to me. ‘Well, no harm trying.’
I kissed Emma on the top of her head. ‘Daddy will be right back.’
I legged it upstairs, taking them two and three at a time. I knocked on Adam’s door.
‘Adam, can I come in?’
No answer. ‘Adam?’
Still no answer.
I opened the door and headed into Adam’s bedroom. The curtains were open and daylight was pouring in but Adam was still fast asleep.
‘Wake up, birthday boy,’ I smiled. ‘Are you going to come downstairs and join us for breakfast?’ I walked over to him. ‘Wake up, you lazy butt-head! We got you a birthday cake. D’you want to blow out the candles now, or tonight after dinner?’
I moved closer. Something crunched under my foot. I bent to pick it up. It was the fragments of a tablet. A sleeping tablet . . . But surely he’d finished those months ago? How could there still be any left? Unless . . . unless Adam had saved them up?
‘Adam?’ I bent over him, shaking his shoulder. Adam’s head flopped to one side. I shook him harder. ‘Adam, wake up!’ I shook him just as hard as I could now.
His whole body lay limp like cooked spaghetti and his eyes remained closed.
‘ADAM? ADAM, WAKE UP. DAD . . . !’ I yelled.
I was dimly aware of Dad running upstairs as I kept shaking Adam over and over, telling him, begging him to wake up. But his skin was cold and clammy and I was so afraid that I was too late . . .
The next ten minutes were a blur. Dad turned ashen when I showed him the crushed sleeping tablet on the floor. He immediately checked for a pulse. If anything, his skin turned even more grey when he took his hand away from Adam’s wrist. Dad bent his head to Adam’s face to check and see if my brother was breathing . . .
‘Dante, phone for an ambulance,’ he ordered.
I didn’t need to be told twice. I phoned them whilst Dad pulled Adam upright, then hauled him off the bed. Wrapping one of Adam’s arms round his shoulders, Dad started walking up and down.
‘Adam, walk. D’you hear me? One foot in front of the other. Walk.’
Dad paced up and down, dragging Adam with him. I wanted to help but Emma started crying downstairs.
‘Daddy?’ she wailed plaintively.
‘Go and stay with your daughter,’ Dad ordered.
‘I’ll bring her upsta—’
‘Don’t,’ said Dad fiercely.
‘But—’
‘Dante, she doesn’t need to see this. Stay downstairs with her and let the paramedics in when they get here.’
Much as I wanted to argue, I knew Dad was right.
‘Adam, walk. Come on. Walk,’ Dad cajoled.
Adam groaned, his head lolling back, then slumping forwards like every bone in his neck had disappeared.
‘Dante, go. Emma needs you,’ said Dad.
Yes, and so did my brother. But I did as I was told and headed downstairs.
‘Daddy.’ Emma stopped bawling and held out her arms to me as I entered the kitchen.
‘Sorry, love,’ I said, lifting her out of her chair. ‘I didn’t mean to leave you alone.’
‘Park,’ said Emma.
‘No, Emma. Not today.’
‘Park,’ Emma insisted, bursting into tears all over again.
‘No.’
Emma howled like a banshee, her wail going straight through my head.
‘Emma, we’re not going to the park and that’s final. We’ll go some other day,’ I tried to reason with her.
It wasn’t working. I put her down. She was suddenly so heavy. But she didn’t like that either. Her wail grew even louder.
‘Park . . . park . . .’ she demanded between screams. I couldn’t take any more.
‘EMMA, FOR GOD’S SAKE, SHUT UP.’
She stared at me for a stunned moment, then she really let rip. If I’d thought she was loud before, it was nothing compared to what was coming out of her mouth now. She was really doing my head in. I glared down at her, my fists slowly clenching. I was less than a second away from losing it . . .
So I ran. Out of the kitchen and into the sitting room. I ran away just as fast as I could. Flinging myself down on the armchair, I buried my head in my hands, appalled at myself. I couldn’t believe what I’d almost done. Emma’s crying was getting closer. She peeped her head round the door, still sobbing, and looked at me with an uncertainty that twisted my guts.
I took a deep breath. ‘I’m sorry, Emma.’ I opened my arms.
Emma ran to me and I scooped her up. Her tears were subsiding now as I held her tight.
‘Sorry, Daddy.’
‘You’ve got nothing to be sorry about,’ I told her, smoothing her hair over and over. ‘I’m sorry I shouted at you. I’m worried about Uncle Adam but I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.’
‘Poor Unckey,’ sighed Emma.
It took a while before I could trust myself to speak. ‘Yeah, poor uncle.’
‘Kiss, Daddy?’
I gulped, then gulped again. ‘Yes, please,’ I whispered.
Emma kissed my cheek. I kissed hers. And all the time, I couldn’t stop swallowing.
It took a while, but I was finally able to say the only words that mattered to me at that moment. ‘I love you, Emma. I love you very, very much.’
47
Dante
Dad made me stay home with Emma whilst he headed off in the ambulance with Adam. I tried to argue but Dad wasn’t having it.
‘I think Emma’s seen more than enough of that hospital recently, don’t you?’ said Dad grimly.
‘But what about Adam? I should be with him.’
‘I’ll be with him,’ said Dad. ‘You just stay here and take care of your daughter.’
But for the first time I was scared of what might happen, of what I might do if she started crying again and wouldn’t stop. The thought of harming my daughter in any way sickened me, frightened me.
And yet I’d come so close . . .
I took my mobile out of my trouser pocket. I needed to make a call. Within two rings, the phone at the other end was picked up.
‘Hello?’ Aunt Jackie sounded annoyed.
‘Aunt Jackie, I . . . I . . .’
‘Dante?’
‘Yeah . . .’
‘D’you know what time it is? You know I’m allergic to daylight before noon on Saturdays,’ she said testily.
‘Aunt Jackie, I . . . I need your help . . .’ Why were the words so hard to say?
‘What’s happened?’ she asked sharply.
I told her everything – all about Adam and the sleeping pills, all about me shouting at Emma and what I’d almost done.
‘I’ll be right there. D’you hear me? I’ll be there as soon as I can.’ Aunt Jackie hung up first.
Emma toddled up to me. ‘Hungry, Daddy,’ she told me.
I took a deep breath and switched on a smile. ‘Well then, let’s get you something yummy to eat.’
I took her hand and led her into the kitchen. Putting Emma in her highchair, I put some grapes, some orange segments and banana slices in a bowl and placed it in front of her. I stood and watched as Emma tucked in, wielding her spoon like a weapon as she attacked a banana slice. And I still couldn’t get what I’d almost done out of my head.
I needed to get out of there.
‘Daddy will be right back, Emma,’ I said quietly.
I h
eaded upstairs to Adam’s room, needing to feel closer to him somehow. I pottered around his room, straightening up the stuff on his desk, moving his chair away from the window, smoothing his duvet, lifting his pillow to shake the filling. There was a folded sheet of paper beneath the pillow. I picked it up and, unfolding it, I began to read.
Adam,
I know I’m probably the last person you want to hear from and I wouldn’t blame you if you put this letter straight in the bin but I hope you will give me the chance I never gave you and read it through to the end.
As you probably already know, I’m in court soon. My solicitor tried to get the charge reduced to actual bodily harm instead of GBH but the police have photos and doctors’ reports of what I did to you so that’s looking unlikely. I’ve been warned that there’s a serious possibility of me doing time. My mum has washed her hands of me and none of my friends want to know. I don’t blame them. And believe me, I’m not trying to get your sympathy. After what I’ve done, I know that’s impossible. If I do get sent to prison, it’ll be what I deserve. I’ve accepted that. I thought of calling round to talk to you in person instead of writing this letter but you were right about me, I am a coward. But I need to say this to you. I’m sorry. I know it’s just words and too little too late, but I’m really, really sorry about what happened. Even now I look back at that night and I still can’t believe what I did.
I want to ask you for a favour. I know I have no right but I’m going to ask anyway. Will you write to me when I get sent down? I’ll write to you and send you my new address once the trial is over. If you choose to ignore me, I’ll understand. But I’m hoping you’ll take pity on me and write back. I don’t have anyone in my life now. Isn’t it ironic? I was afraid of losing all my friends and family if I came out and stopped pretending to be something I wasn’t, but I’ve lost them anyway.
I heard you haven’t returned to school yet. Is it because, like me, you feel dead inside? Is it because life doesn’t feel worth living any more? You once said that you and I were very alike, we felt and thought the same about all kinds of things. I didn’t believe it at the time, but you were right about that as well. I guess that’s why I think I know how you must be feeling right now. Betrayed. I told you things I’ve never told another person, ever. We were close and I told you I cared about you, which was true (and still is), and yet I could do something like that to you. Now you think the world is full of hypocrites and liars like me, so what’s the point? I can’t answer that for you. Just know that not a second goes by when I don’t deeply regret what I did.
I hope you will write back to me. I guess you’re my last chance at feeling human again. But if you won’t or don’t or can’t, I’ll understand.
Take care of yourself.
Your friend,
Joshua
I sat down on Adam’s bed and reread the letter from start to finish. So much for putting Josh’s letter in the bin. I knew Josh had been remanded on bail but that was all I knew. The police had phoned Dad to tell him that even though the charges against Josh were serious, they’d remanded him on bail, allowing Josh to go home because he had turned himself in at the local police station. If he hadn’t done that he would’ve been remanded in custody and would’ve awaited his trial in prison.
I read the letter one more time but it just made me even more confused. Was this why Adam had taken all those pills after all this time? Was Josh right about how Adam must be feeling? Had the letter reopened old wounds or had it just confirmed to Adam that they hadn’t healed? I folded up the letter and reluctantly placed it back beneath Adam’s pillow.
‘Daddy? Daddy?’ My daughter was calling me.
I headed downstairs, took her out of her highchair and held her tight until she started protesting and agitating to be put down on the ground. I led the way to the sitting room so that she could play with her toys whilst I stood in the doorway, just watching her.
Aunt Jackie was as good as her word. Less than twenty minutes later she was standing in the hall giving me a bear hug.
‘How’re you doing?’ she asked.
‘Better,’ I said.
‘Where’s Emma?’
‘In the sitting room, drawing.’
Aunt Jackie took my chin in her hand, scrutinizing my face. ‘I am so proud of you.’
‘For what? For losing my temper and almost hitting my daughter?’ I said with self-contempt. ‘For being no better than Melanie?’ My aunt had to be joking.
Aunt Jackie smiled. ‘But you didn’t hit her. Thinking it and doing it are poles apart, honey. You remember that. You hang on to that. You walked away and gave yourself a chance to calm down.’
‘But I nearly . . .’
‘No one cares about “nearly”. If “nearly” mattered, of the entire adult population there’d only be two nuns who weren’t in prison,’ Aunt Jackie dismissed with a wave of her hand. ‘Stop being so hard on yourself. And I’ll tell you why else I’m proud of you – you asked for help.’
At my puzzled look, Aunt Jackie smiled. ‘It’s a man thing, honey. You men can’t stand to ask for help. You consider it a sign of weakness, as if people will judge you or get the idea – God forbid – that you’re not coping.’
I opened my mouth to argue, but my mouth snapped shut without uttering a word. That wasn’t true, well . . . not all of it.
‘Adam is just the same, for all his chat about being in touch with his feelings,’ sighed Aunt Jackie. ‘Up in his room alone all these months, too much of a man to tell anyone just how scared he was and how alone he felt.’
‘I’m not going to let him do that any more,’ I said with determination.
If it wasn’t already too late . . .
No. It wasn’t too late. I’d feel it inside if Adam . . . Just as I’d feel it inside if I ever lost Emma. I didn’t even want to consider that possibility.
‘The days of Adam sitting up in his room alone are over,’ I told my aunt.
‘Oh yes?’
‘Yes,’ I said firmly. ‘I love my brother too much to let him waste his life that way.’
‘Have you told him that?’ asked my aunt.
‘Well, er . . . not in so many words. But he knows,’ I argued.
‘The way you know your dad loves you,’ said Aunt Jackie. ‘But I bet you don’t mind hearing the words.’
She gave me a significant look, allowing what she’d said to sink in. That was the trouble with Aunt Jackie. She was as irritating as hell, especially when she was right. I guess, like Dad, I had trouble saying that kind of stuff. More we had in common.
‘Have you heard anything from your dad?’
‘Not yet.’
‘Daddy?’ Emma called out.
‘Coming, Emma.’
‘Where is my darling?’ Aunt Jackie shoved me to one side and made a beeline for my poor daughter.
‘Run away, Emma,’ I tried to tell her telepathically. ‘Or else brace yourself. Aunt Jackie is about to descend.’
I took a couple of steps, then stopped. What was it Aunt Jackie had said?
You men can’t stand to ask for help . . .
It struck me that I wasn’t the first guy to be a single dad at eighteen and I certainly wouldn’t be the last. But there wasn’t an awful lot of information out there written specifically for us. Maybe . . . just maybe I could do something about that? I shook my head, putting the idea on a back burner.
At this precise moment, I had more urgent things to worry about.
48
Dante
It was evening before Dad arrived back home, and thank God he wasn’t alone. Adam was with him. I was surprised to see my brother back home so quickly, to be honest. I thought they’d keep him in overnight at the hospital at least. But I guess they needed the beds. I studied Adam but he didn’t really look any different. Unlike Dad. Dad looked beyond tired, like he’d aged at least five years.
One of Dad’s favourite sayings crashed into my head: Another five years off my life . . .
Only this time, it wasn’t even close to being funny. I remembered when Emma had almost tumbled down the stairs, when she’d banged her fingers with the toilet lid, when she’d fallen off the end of the slide in the children’s playground.
Five years off my life . . .
I wondered with a wry smile, would people be immortal if they didn’t have kids?
‘Hey, Adam,’ I said.
‘Hi, Dante,’ Adam replied faintly.
‘Adam, are you OK, love?’ asked Aunt Jackie, emerging from the sitting room carrying Emma.
‘I’m fine.’ Adam didn’t hang around to answer any more questions. He headed straight up to his room.
‘What happened at the hospital?’ I asked Dad.
‘They pumped his stomach and gave him some kind of charcoal concoction to stop him absorbing any more into his bloodstream,’ Dad replied. ‘Luckily he took the tablets early this morning. If he’d taken them late last night and then choked . . .’
Dad didn’t need to say anything else. He looked up the stairs after Adam, like he was at a loss as to what to do next.
‘I’ll go and speak to him, Dad.’ I started up the stairs.
‘No, I should . . .’ Dad began.
‘Please, Dad. Let me,’ I said.
Dad sighed. ‘OK. God knows I’ve tried but I just can’t seem to reach him.’
I headed upstairs. Knocking once, I entered Adam’s bedroom. He was back in his chair looking out over the back garden.
‘Hey, Adam.’
‘I don’t remember inviting you to come in.’ Adam didn’t even turn around to look at me.
I sat down on my brother’s bed. ‘How’re you feeling?’
‘My throat hurts,’ Adam replied. ‘And I’m really not in the mood for another lecture.’
‘I wasn’t going to give you one,’ I denied.
‘Good, ’cause I just want to be left alone.’
No. Not any more. ‘I read Josh’s letter,’ I said.
Adam stiffened for a moment. ‘You had no right.’
‘Neither did you.’ And we both knew I wasn’t talking about reading Josh’s letter. ‘Tell me something. Did that letter have anything to do with . . . with what you did?’