The entire energy of the room darkens.
“Ray, leave them alone,” she wails.
It’s surreal to see these two men side by side.
If I squint, I can see that father and son share the same jawline and nose.
Almost the same smile, but his is sinister.
It’s as though someone has taken the man I love, and distorted him horribly.
Aged him by decades, starved him for a month, and then soaked him in piss.
Now add some manky long hair and cheap half-assed tattoos.
He probably seemed enormous to a small child, simply because of his rage.
I look at him the way I’d look at dog shit on my shoe.
A silent warning that says: don’t step any closer.
And not just because he’s violent.
The stench is repulsive.
Filthy bugger probably hasn't showered all week.
Has he wet his pants?
It’s hard to tell.
Standing beside Marco, I position myself close enough to shield him.
The coward glares at me, jaw grinding.
But something in my eyes must have registered.
Ray hesitates, stepping back to find a weaker target.
His face hovers inches from hers.
“I said... who the fuck are these cunts?”
I can barely hear her reply.
“Mark and his friend.”
It’s taken him this long to recognise his own child.
“Mark and his poofter friend,” he booms. “Showing up uninvited in my house!”
He tips his beer over her head before we can stop him.
Marco rushes to help her.
My fists clench in rage, the tension in the room lingering thick.
I stand directly between the two men, as he helps his mum dry her hair.
