25 : Blaire

                                    

                                          
B L A I R E
                          
•
                          
The sky is a pale shade of hopeful blue on Sunday morning as Sukie and I walk along the lake shore, listening to seagulls caw as they swoop in from the Inner Seas and watching the grey-green water rippled with the breeze. I've been staying with her for four full days now, and I know it's time to go back. I have to face my fears, and Elizabeth.
                          
"I listened to episode seventy-one last night," I say. We're walking side by side with no destination in mind, that I know of. Sukie suggested going for a walk today, on her day off, and I leapt at the chance to spend some time alone with her.
                          
"Did it give you any brainwaves?" Her hands are buried in the loose pockets of her long hoodie, swinging at her sides.
                          
"No. It did make me think that Betsy had a pretty shit life, though."
                          
"Yeah." Sukie sighs. "I cried the first time I read about her, when I realised just how much she lost while she lived here. I don't know why, it hit me hard." 
                          
"It's heavy," I say. "I guess, at the very least, it made me thankful that I don't remember my dad. God knows how I'd cope with losing two parents."
                          
Sukie glances over at me. "You did lose two, though."
                          
I press my lips together and shake my head. "I never knew him. There were times I used to get sad about never knowing him, or it'd upset me any time Mum mentioned him because it made her cry, but I can't miss him."
                          
"When did he die?"
                          
"2002. I was two and a half."
                          
Sukie goes quiet for a moment, contemplative. "Do you mind me asking what happened?"
                          
Talking about my father's death doesn't feel real. It doesn't feel like I'm talking about my dad when there's no-one in this world I've ever called that; there's a degree of separation that makes it almost easy. "He killed himself," I say. 
                          
"Oh, god, Blaire..."
                          
"It's okay. I mean, it's not okay, but I'm fine. I only know him from photos and anecdotes. Mum told me he struggled with his mental health, like, a lot. He really struggled. And eventually it got too much."
                          
"I'm so sorry. That's awful."
                          
It is what it is, I think. I can't afford to dwell on it because if I dig too deep and find a new well of grief to contend with, I'll crack. So I keep my dad at a distance, too far away to hurt me with his absence.
                          
"What about you?" I ask, shifting focus. "What's the deal with your dad?"
                          
Sukie snorts, pulling a face. "Just a regular deadbeat wanker. Well, he could be a lot worse, I guess, but I can't forgive him for what he did to Mum."
                          
"What'd he do?"
                          
She shrugs. "The usual. He cheated and lied and tried to make her think she was guilty, like she wasn't good enough for him. Then he pulled out the grieving dad card and acted like it was too hard to stay in the town where Kieran died, even though he'd been dead for over a decade."
                          
"Fucking hell. He sounds like a right ... well, yeah. A deadbeat wanker."
                          
"Mmhmm. Class A man material, my father. And all this shit went on for years, until I turned twelve and he finally fucked off back to Huddersfield."
                          
We follow the curve of the lake at a meandering pace, watching the glimmering sun skitter across the surface.
                          
"Do you ever see him?"