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“My dad’s an alcoholic. He’s in liver failure. They’re desperately searching for a donor.”
Finally having got it out, he looks relieved and stares at his lap, waiting for me to say something.
“What about Japan?”
“What about it?”
“You just left?”
“It wasn’t going as well as I’d hoped,” he sighs. “I kind of screwed it up, then I was dossing around on people’s floors. Bit shit, really. Just didn’t wanna come home.”
“That’s why you went… to escape him.”
He chews his lip. “To escape myself. And what he’s done to me.”
“I’m so, so sorry, Paul.”
“Me too. Because you don’t know what it’s like being his son, Lily. You don’t know what’s it’s like even being near him, let alone related to him by blood.”
I absorb that for a while.
“So, do you want to watch another?”
“Yeah, course,” he enthuses, taking away the two plates, then coming back with more drinks.
“Alright, here we go.” I press play.
Chapter Fourteen
Midway through the second episode, Paul’s phone rings and he looks at the screen, frowning. He rejects the call. After a few persistent calls back, he stands up, stalks to the window and answers, “Yes?”
I don’t hear what’s said on the other end of the line. I pause the TV and still don’t hear as he mumbles, “Umm-hmm, umm-hmm… okay, bye.”
Once he’s off the phone he sits down and looks at me. “Aren’t you going to press play?”
“Who was that?”
He chews his lip and grinds his teeth. “Mum. She said they’ve got a liver; it’s arriving in the morning. He’s booked in for surgery first thing.”
I stare, baffled. “Aren’t you happy? That’s great news.”
He presses his lips together and looks away, choosing his words carefully before turning back to look at me. “You don’t know my dad. He’s knackered up that body. Who knows if it’ll take? And if it does… he’ll fuck up that new liver and it’ll have been for nothing. Trust me. I know him better than anyone.”
I swallow hard. There’s so much pain and torment in his eyes and tone of voice. I’ve never seen him like this before. He’s hidden it so well – this personal tragedy of his.
“I’m sorry, Paul. I really am.”
“Not as sorry as I am, babe. Not half as sorry.” He leans forward on the sofa, hands steepled in front of him. “I’ve seen him at his worst and at his best. And it’s the best that’s actually the worst because in those few moments he’s sober and lucid you have this feeling, right in the pit of your stomach, suddenly realising it’s happiness. It’s so great, that feeling of having him back, but then all it takes is one whiff of the stuff and he’s gone. It takes him and that’s it… he’s gone. And you learn to fight off those feelings of happiness whenever they arrive, because you know they won’t last for long.”
He bursts into tears so I scoot across the sofa, take his hand and pull his head against my shoulder, letting him release it all, tears and sobs and all.
Then suddenly he yanks himself away, rubs his eyes and quietens, walking to the other side of the room and staring at the wall.
“I don’t want you to see me like this.”
“Why?”
“Because you don’t deserve this shit, Lily.”
