Page 75 of Unnecessary Drama

‘That’s okay. Mine wasn’t either.’

‘It’s not even a story.’

‘Just talk,’ I say, gently.

‘You really want to hear about it?’

‘I want you to tell me every detail.’

‘Okay,’ he says. ‘Well. Dad and Bree, my stepmum, had plans to go out to dinner, nothing special, just the local pizza place, and when I told them I was coming down, I thought they might change them or invite me or something, so we’d all have dinner together. But instead they cancelled the babysitter and asked me to mind the kids, and I said fine, and then Dad and Bree came home from dinner and complained about the house being messy and Tilda wasn’t in bed early enough and Toby had too much screen time and that I’ve let everyone down. And it’s just like—it never feels like my house, you know? I’m always kind of this outsider who is on the edge of their family. I’m always doing the wrong thing. And when I go to my mum’s place, it’s the same. I just fit in around everyone else’s schedule, tag along, join in on their stuff, their plans, try to fit with their rules, rules that are always changing, live with whoever they want me to live with at the time. They are two full-time families, and I’m part-time in both. Or something. I don’t know. I don’t even know what I’m saying, really.’ He looks away.

The words have poured out of him fast, so fast that it makes my heart hurt.

‘I’m really sorry.’ I shuffle a little closer to him, moving the laptop out of the way. I want to hug him but I don’t think he’d let me. ‘I mean, you saw what happened with my dad. He has never made me feel like I might be a priority to him. It hurts. I know how it hurts.’

‘My dad tries. So does my mum. It’s not like with your dad, but they just…they’re busy, and they don’t see it. I don’t know. I don’t think my dad is very interested in my life. Or me.’ He pauses, and I wait for him to say more.

He looks at me, as if to check I’m still listening, and then looks down and pats Minty as he continues. ‘Anyway, I sort of tried to talk to him about it tonight, but it was a disaster.’

‘What happened?’ I ask.

‘Well, I said something like, “Everything I do in this house is wrong,” and he said, “That’s a cop out, you need to take responsibility for your actions,” and I said, “Sorry I’m not perfect then,” and he said, “No, you’re most certainly not,” and then we just yelled at each other and I walked out.’

‘That sucks,’ I say.

‘Yeah.’

‘He’s the dad. He’s the adult. Well, I guess technically you’re an adult too, but he’s been one for a really long time. We’re still new at this. He’s the one putting unfair pressure on you. It’s his responsibility to fix your relationship, to ask about your feelings, to figure out a new approach. Not yours.’ I’m passing this off as my own wisdom, but really, Nanna told me this, when I was thirteen and told her my plan to help Dad navigate the school holidays with us. She said, ‘Oh honey, that’s not your job.’

‘Yeah, I guess. It all feels a bit hopeless. It’s pathetic, even talking about it,’ Jesse says.

‘It’s not pathetic,’ I say, putting my hand on his arm. I wish I had the superpower to transmit comfort and happiness through my touch right in this second, to inject him with every good feeling I can think of. ‘This stuff matters,’ I say. ‘You matter.’

You matter to me, I wish I had the courage to add.

‘With your dad, how do you do it?’ he asks.

‘What do you mean?’

‘How do you handle it? When he lets you down, or you get angry with him?’ He’s looking at me like I might have a magic answer. As if I haven’t wasted countless hours of my life trying to figure it out.

‘I don’t, really. Or I guess I do. I just kind of try to accept how it is now and keep hoping we might figure it out one day. It’s different with us, because there’s not much there, really, to fight against anymore. Getting angry at him is like being angry at a void. He’ll listen, or pretend to listen. He’ll say sorry, send me a random gift I don’t want, give me money, and then do it all again. It’s okay, I don’t need him to show up in that way, because I have Nanna and Mum and Lauren,’ I say. I have a home and Dad isn’t part of it.

‘I used to get so angry sometimes,’ says Jesse. ‘That’s why I started running, you know? I didn’t want to turn into an angry guy, it’s such a cliché, and there are enough angry men out there. Running got rid of all that.’ He pauses. ‘I want…I guess I just want to find somewhere I feel like I belong.’

‘You belong with us. With me and Harper and our house,’ I say.

We look at each other, and then I look away, because it feels like the eye contact is taking us somewhere.

‘I’m sorry,’ he says.

‘What for?’

‘For coming over here with no warning and turning your night into a fucking therapy session.’

‘I don’t mind. I like talking to you.’

We smile at each other.