Underdawgs

Saturday arrives and I find myself on the couch at home, nursing a brutal hangover and thinking about the coming evening and the fight.

      The front door bangs open and Robert storms in. His face agitated, he strides sourly into the living room and shoots me a filthy look. 'What are you doing just lazing about?' he demands, staring at me like I'm the sole cause of everything wrong with his life. 'Don't you have homework or something to do?'

      'I dunno.' I shrug. 'I kinda got stuff on.'

      'Like what?' Robert sneers. 'Lazing around on your arse all day taking up space?

      Here's an idea, why don't you get up off the couch and do something decent with your life?'

      I look away. I can't talk to Robert when he's in this mood. I know he doesn't really mean it and it's just the alcohol withdrawal talking, but I don't have the energy to deal with him right now. Robert shakes his head dismissively and goes into his room, slamming the door behind him.

                                                                                        ******

If Robert's mood was bad this morning, by dinner time it's a whole lot worse. It's getting to the point where he's so on edge that Sarah and I have to tiptoe around him.

      He's lying on the couch, sweating like a pig, and he must have downed at least ten pain killers in the last couple of hours. I get a text from Lily arranging to meet up tonight, and he reacts so violently to my phone beeping, swearing and punching the wall, that Sarah scurries into our room and doesn't come out for half an hour.

      My concerns are multiplying. Robert is a time bomb itching to go off.

      I finally coax Sarah out of our bedroom and the three of us sit around the kitchen table in silence to eat. Robert's in no mood for conversation and I'm still distracted by the countdown of the clock, thinking about the fight.

      Sarah seems a little bit brighter and tries to get the conversation going. 'What did you do today, Jason?' she asks.

      'Not much, Sar. You?'

      'I tidied our bedroom,' Sarah says proudly.

      I smile at her. 'You've done a really good job. I'm proud of how much effort you've made around the flat.'

      Robert flashes me a filthy look. I ignore him.

      'I'll try to keep my stuff as neat as possible, okay?' I tell Sarah.

      'Thanks, Jase,' Sarah says with a grin. 'I think Mum would be proud of what we've done.'

      Robert's gaze fixes on Sarah at the mention of Mum.

      I beam at Sarah. You have to admire my sister. Despite everything that's happened, she's always maintained her faith in both Robert and me. It's down to her more than anyone that the three of us are still together.

      'She's proud of you, Sar,' I tell her, placing my hand on hers. 'Even if she's not here to say it, she's probably more proud of you than anyone on earth. She loves you, Sar, don't ever forget that.'

      Sarah smiles, but I see her eyes well up and feel a pang of sadness.

      'I miss her,' Sarah says softly, a tear rolling down her cheek. 'I really miss Mum. Why did it have to happen, Jase?' She turns to Robert. 'Dad? Why did she have that accident?'

      I grip Sarah's hand tight. 'I dunno,' I say, shaking my head. 'There's no reason for it, it's no one's fault. It just kind of happened.'

      Robert bangs his fist on the table and stands up angrily, his chair clattering to the floor. His face is constricted and he turns away from us, his head in his hands. Sarah stares at him, frightened.

      'Dad, are you okay?'

       Robert holds up his hand, his eyes shut. 'Don't,' he orders. 'Just don't.' He turns to leave the room. I breathe a sigh of relief, thinking it's over, but then Sarah does something I've never seen her do before. She jumps up from the table and chases after him.

      'Why?' she asks stubbornly, following him into the living room. 'Why shouldn't we?' Robert shakes his head in frustration.

      'Why can't we talk about it?' Sarah yells at Robert, tears streaming down her cheeks.

      'She was my mum.'

      I rush into the living room. I know what Sarah is asking is fair enough – Robert has never once discussed what had happened to Mum with either of us – but given the state he's in, I just want to get her as far away from him as possible.

      I step in between Robert and Sarah and take her hand.

      'Come on, Sar, it's okay,' I say. 'Just come back into the kitchen and have dinner. We can sort this out later.'

      Sarah glares at me angrily. 'No,' she says, pulling her hand away and moving towards Robert. 'Why won't you talk to me about her? She was our mum.'

      Robert waves his hand as if shooing Sarah away. But Sarah continues towards him, undeterred. Her face looks more determined than I've ever seen it, and it dawns on me how much this means to her.

      Of the three of us, Sarah knows the least about Mum's accident. She was young when it had happened and I sheltered her from it as best I could. But now she wants answers.

      'Why won't you talk to me?' she yells at Robert.

      Robert's cornered, his eyes flash with pain and rage. 'Don't you do this,' he threatens

      Sarah. 'Don't you fucking do this, not now, not ever – you understand?'

      'Why?' she screams, tears streaming down her face now. 'She was your wife. You loved her but you act like she never existed. Why are you doing this to us?'

      I'm panicking now, my heart racing. Something has awoken in Sarah, something that has built up over years of rejection and neglect, and she isn't going to stop until she either gets a response out of Robert or pushes him until he snaps. I jump in between the two of them again, trying to protect Sarah, moving her back a little, away from Robert's striking distance. But Sarah dodges around me and grabs onto Robert's jumper.

      'Fuck off,' he yells, knocking her hand away. 'Fuck off and don't ever fucking mention this again.'

      'Why do you do this?' Sarah screams. 'Why?'

      Robert spins around, his face livid. 'Because you fucking caused it, didn't you?' he spits at Sarah. 'She died because of you.'

      Sarah's face turns white.

      My stomach lurches and my brain goes numb.

      Sarah stands there, stunned. I watch as she tries to process the absolute horror of a truth she'd long forgotten. She stumbles and almost falls, but I grab her and half drag, half carry her into our bedroom.

      My heart is racing. I place Sarah gently on her bed. 'Sar, it's not true,' I tell her desperately. 'It's not true. Sarah, please ...'

      Sarah is whimpering, curled into a ball, distress etched all over her face. Rage grips me. I storm back into the living room to face Robert. The bastard is actually grinning, his eyes full of madness.

      I shove him in the chest and he falls back. 'What the fuck was that?' I scream as he scrambles to his feet.

      'The truth,' he spits at me. 'For once, the fucking truth.'

      'You don't ever say that,' I yell, shoving him again. 'You don't ever fucking blame her for what happened to Mum. You hear me, fuckwit? Never!'

      'I'll say whatever the fuck I like to you, to her, to anyone.'

      'What the fuck is wrong with you?' I shout, spit flying from my mouth with every word. 'Are you fucking normal? What happened to mum wasn't her fault.'

      He grins again and I'm shocked by the viciousness in his eyes.

      'What happened to all that shit about working together to be a happier household?' I shout at him. 'What about Sarah and me?'

      Robert's eyes narrow. 'I don't give a single fuck about either of you,' he spits at me.

      I stop dead. Finally, the truth. Everything that's happened in the last few weeks, all the efforts Robert made – it's all been bullshit. He doesn't care about us. He doesn't care about anyone but himself, and I'd been stupid enough to let Lily and Sarah convince me otherwise.

      Then I feel it. All of it. Everything Robert has ever made me feel.

      I hit Robert hard as I can in the jaw. He crumbles to the floor, so I kick him in the head and stomp on his chest. I want to kill him. I want to tear him to pieces for everything he's done to Sarah, to me, to our mother. For every time he hasn't been there for us, hasn't cared for us. But I know I can't. I know I have to get Sarah out of here, get myself out of here, before the rage makes me do something I'll regret.

      I race into our bedroom and scoop up Sarah in my arms.

      I pocket my phone, cigs and wallet and head to the door. As we pass through the living room, I get one last look at Robert before we exit the flat. He's lying on the floor, his torso half propped up by the wall, his eyes swollen, his face a bloody mess. On the verge of passing out.

      I stop and stare at him, taking it all in, finally seeing this broken man in front of me for the pile of shit he really is. The man who's supposed to be my father.

      I spit at him and with Sarah cradled in my arms, walk out the front door.

                                                                                        ******

I carry Sarah to the park to cool off and work out what to do next. People stare at us as we pass them on the street, which isn't surprising because we must look like absolute shit.

      Images of me hurting people, bashing in their heads and breaking their noses, bounce around my skull. I'm panicking. I can't think, I can barely breathe.

      We reach a park bench and I sit Sarah down, sucking in great lungfuls of air, trying to calm myself. Sarah is still whimpering. Her eyes are red and puffy and she's shivering. I take off my jumper and pull it over her shoulders, trying to shield her from the cold night air. I spark a cig and suck in the nicotine, trying to relieve the tension while racking my brain to dredge up a plan.

      I think about calling Constable Finley, the youth liaison officer, but quickly dismiss the idea. That would only bring more trouble, more charges and get the government involved. Fuck foster homes, we aren't going there.

      I pace up and down in front of Sarah, trying to work out what to do. I want so much not to be here right now, not to be in this position. To wind back the clock an hour or so to before everything blew up.

      I kick the bench in frustration and Sarah glances at me with unease. I can't believe how dumb I've been. I'd convinced myself that deep down Robert really cared about us, about me. I'd let my guard down, hoping everything would turn out fine, but it won't.

      Lily is wrong, so wrong about Robert, and I'm the idiot who listened to her.

      I feel an unexpected surge of anger towards Lily. For her optimism, for her hope. I'd let her influence me. I'd let her make me soft.

      I feel like she lied to me, made me go against what every instinct I had was telling me was the reality of the situation. What I knew was the reality of the situation. That

      Robert didn't care.

      I desperately try to keep my head straight and not let the raging emotions inside of me take over. I need to get Sarah somewhere safe, then work out what to do next. And then it dawns on me. The fight, the guys. Lily wouldn't approve, but I'd listened to her about

      Robert and look where that got me? And with that realization, a plan comes to my mind.

      I take Sarah's hand gently, urge her off the bench and we begin walking back towards the flats. I don't care about anything anymore. Right now I need to be with the only people who have ever protected me or made me feel good. I've made my decision. I'm going to that fight.  

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