The Things We Hide at Home

by Nem Rowan

  “Nah, I’m alright.” I made a half-yawn into my palm and blinked a few times to clear the haze from my vision. “Is Growler okay?”

  “Yeah, he’s alright. He called me this morning to say thank you, so…” He shrugged as he folded his laptop cable into a figure eight.

  “Growler, saying thank you? Wow, that’s a bit of a shocker.”

  “Is it?” Gerard chuckled, his eyes twinkling as he looked at me. Despite that we had different fathers, I could still see similarities between us and it reinforced the love I had for him as my brother.

  “Yeah, he never thanks anybody. He’s a spoiled brat, really, and I mean that in the nicest way,” I frowned slightly as Gerard hauled himself to his feet.

  “I never thought he was like that. He’s always been pleasant to me, at least.” He raised his brows. “So, d’ya fancy a fried breakfast?”

  “Sounds great.”

  The cat mewed and followed his owner out of the room, Gerard’s heavy footfalls lumbering down the hallway to the kitchen. I couldn’t disguise the fact that Growler’s gratitude towards my brother was a surprise; Growler was the sort of person who knew he was beautiful and used that beauty to get what he wanted out of people without any sort of expectation that he’d need to thank them in return. He did favours and showed support only to close friends, and I was very fortunate that I was one of them, but I couldn’t ignore his behaviour towards other people, Gerard included. Perhaps I would need to speak to Growler, to make sure he wouldn’t do anything to hurt my brother’s feelings.

  I reached for my phone on the coffee table as the LED was flashing, and when I checked it, I discovered I had a few messages. One was from Vanessa, asking how Growler was doing, another was just a junk mail from my home insurance company. I tapped the ChainLink icon and it opened to reveal that I had some new notifications.

  Snaffle is nearby.

  This notification was from the night before, but it only told me the date, not the time that it had been received. The messages that followed were from this morning.

  Snaffle said Hi to you.

  Snaffle: Hello :)

  So, it seemed this guy had taken the hint and decided to message me. The least I could do was message him back.

  MasterY: Hi, how are you?

  I checked the other notifications. CordialSin had faved some of the pictures I had taken last night at the club; they seemed to do that every time I uploaded pictures to my profile, which was a little strange but I didn’t think anything of it. They’d replied to my message, too.

  CordialSin: I can’t help my shyness. It was nice to see you last night, though. Perhaps next time you can take me back to yours where we’d have more privacy.

  Hmm. Was this David? I hadn’t really spoken to anyone else in the club. It seemed a little forward compared to how David behaved in person, but perhaps with technology separating us, he felt more confident to flirt with me. That wasn’t unusual; a lot of people felt more free to share their minds over the Internet than they did face to face.

  MasterY: Is this David?

  My phone pinged as a reply was received right in front of my eyes.

  CordialSin: ;)

  MasterY: I’ll take that as a yes. You don’t have to be so shy with me in person, you know.

  CordialSin: Well, next time I won’t be so shy then.

  Before I had a chance to respond, Gerard materialised with a mug of tea and I had to lower my phone so he wouldn’t see my conversation. He glanced at me as he pushed his spectacles up his nose, making a knowing grin to show he was aware I was up to something but he chose not to point it out.

  “Food’ll be ready in a minute,” he commented.

  “Thanks, bro,” I replied, craning my neck so I could see him over my shoulder as he disappeared into the hallway.

  I figured it probably wasn’t polite to be chatting people up while my brother was keeping me company, so instead I locked my phone and put it back where I’d found it. I took my mug of tea to the tiny kitchen at the rear of the house, where Gerard was standing at the hob while Gary sat atop the bread bin on the counter. Gerard’s house was small and cluttered and had the musky scent of a bachelor, but I had always found it a cosy place to visit; piles of dirty laundry in the corners and unwashed cutlery in the sink didn’t bother me in the least. I sidled past him to the open back door, where I sat on the back step and peered at his minuscule garden and the washing swaying on the rotary line. Over the roofs of the houses, Bristol’s cityscape and the variety of towers and spires jutted out of the patchwork of browns and greys. I sipped my tea and thought about where I could take my friendship with David.

  “Juliette wants to know if you can make Serena’s birthday party in September,” Gerard spoke offhandedly.

  I leaned back so I could get a better look at him from around the nearby kitchen cabinet. “Tell her I’ll be there. How old is Serena now? Six? Seven?”

  “Seven.” He nodded, his thick-fingered hand turning off the hob so the blue gas flame went out. He took a step to the side with the crackling, popping frying pan and began to scoop fried eggs onto the two plates.

  I got up and helped him serve breakfast, topping up our mugs with hot water and collecting my plate to take it into the living room. As I made my way down the hall, someone knocked on the front door, so I hurried into the living room, and, after putting my plate on the coffee table, I hurriedly pulled on my clothes in case the visitor wanted to come inside. That’s when I heard a familiar voice that caused a bolt of dread to shoot up my spine and a sudden pulse of adrenaline to flood my chest.

  “Could you come back another time? The house is kind of a mess—” I heard Gerard making excuses on the front porch.

  “Nonsense, your house is always a mess,” our mother retorted. I knew Gerard was trying to get rid of her so she wouldn’t see me, but not only did she look like Cruella de Vil, she was also as rude and disrespectful of other people’s homes.

  I braced myself for incoming by standing with my back to the rest of the living room as I saw her shape move past the crack in the door. Gerard abruptly closed the living room door but I was still able to hear their conversation.

  “Are you hiding someone from me, Gerard?” she questioned from the kitchen. “Two cups of tea on the counter? Who is the other one for?”

  “It’s none of your business, mum. Please, could you come back another time? I’m kind of busy right now,” he pleaded, but I knew it was pointless.

  Seconds later, following a squall of hurried footsteps in the hallway, the living room door was thrust open and my mother appeared in the doorway. The expression she wore bore the sort of determination seen in a scent hound’s eyes when it was on a rabbit’s trail. It quickly changed to a smug, triumphant smirk.

  “I should have known I’d find you here, Madeleine. Hiding from your own mother?” She folded her arms as Gerard lingered behind her.

  He mouthed the words “I’m sorry” and I knew he meant it.

  “I wasn’t hiding from you.” I raised my eyebrows at her dismissively. “And anyway, you’re not my mother and my name isn’t Madeleine.”

  She didn’t seem at all affected by what I’d said. Nothing I said affected her. If she had feelings in there, they were either so shrivelled that she felt little, or so deeply protected that they were shielded from everything. In her youth, people had said she was beautiful, and I suppose in a way she had been, frequently compared to Marilyn Monroe and complimented on her looks. Now, though, she was aged and bony, her blonde hair faded to grey and her fragile body sagging in all the places it had once been pert. The only thing about her that seemed to retain any youth were her bright blue eyes, hard and small as pin-heads.

  I chose to say nothing more. It would be easy for this to escalate into something much worse and I could already feel my anger swelling in my throat, ready to be unleashed. I swallowed it down, looking on as she turned to my brother, suddenly and easily behaving as though I didn’t exist.

  �
��We’re having a party for your grandfather’s ninetieth, and Juliette agreed that it would be nice if Serena celebrated her birthday at the same party, so make sure you amend your calendar because if you go to Juliette’s house, no one will be there. We’re hiring out a venue. I’ll let you know when we’ve chosen one.” She made a point of speaking loudly to emphasise that she wanted me to hear. “Oh, and don’t forget, it’s family members only, so please don’t bring any friends or floozies with you.”

  Gerard sighed and rolled his eyes. “You know I don’t have any floozies…”

  “Don’t forget! Family members only.” She headed for the front door, glancing over her shoulder at me. Her eyes were filled with gleeful hatred. It would have hurt less to look away and avoid them, but I made myself stare back with sheer defiance, letting her know she didn’t cow me.

  It was a relief when she vanished from sight, and I listened to her fussing, getting Gerard to kiss her cheek and calling him her “only son.” She always did that, went out of her way to highlight Gerard’s masculinity in front of me, or kept stating that she had two daughters and comparing me to Juliette. Other times, like right now, she completely axed me from the family. I hated her so much, my guts hurt.

  Finally, the front door closed and I was able to let down my guard. Gerard stood in the doorway, and I could see from the downcast look on his face that he blamed himself for that entire exchange, but it wasn’t his fault at all. I sighed and wiped my hand over my face, aware of the pricking sensation in my eyes; I couldn’t bring myself to cry. Years of testosterone injections had made it progressively harder for me to cry, and instead, I got angry, but every now and then I’d be able to break down and open up to let it all out. Now was not that time.

  Instead, I approached my brother and offered him a hug, which he accepted quickly, grabbing me in a big bear hug and squeezing me against his round belly and hard chest. There had been a time in the past where he had tried to reason with our mother, to try and get her to understand me, because I had worn myself out on her and had given up, but after so long campaigning for me, he, too, had run out of steam. Now he did his best only to keep her away from me.

  “Guess we’ll have to put our breakfast in the microwave,” I murmured into his shoulder.

  “I’m sorry, Tenny. She wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer,” he replied, his voice muffled slightly. His spirits weren’t high enough to rise to my suggestion.

  “It’s fine, don’t worry,” I assured him. “I am starving, though. Let’s not allow her to keep us from our food any longer.”

  “Agreed.”

  My brother and I sat side by side in front of the television, and after we’d eaten, we picked up our controllers and played video games. Eventually, I told him it was time for me to go, and although he offered me a lift home, I politely declined. The walk back would do me some good and give me time to think about what had happened and nurse the old wounds that hurt every time my witch of a mother came face to face with me.

  Chapter 4

  It was fast approaching midnight. I watched the green numbers on my alarm clock changing with each passing minute, but I wasn’t able to sleep. Too many thoughts were parading in my head, cavorting in an attempt to rouse me from bed, but still I tried my best to push them away. All the words I could have shouted at my mother, all the things I could have said to her to make her hurt the way she hurt me. Regret that I had remained silent when I should have vented my frustration, even though I knew that to do so would only worsen the situation. I wasn’t sure that anything I could say would hurt her anymore. She was like a rat grown immune to the age-old poison put down to kill her, each bite only making her more and more untouchable. It didn’t matter what I said anymore and there was nothing left to say, really. The best thing I could do for myself was walk away. She wasn’t worth the hassle.

  I sighed irritatedly and rolled onto my side. My phone was flashing, letting me know I’d received notifications, but I knew if I took a look, I’d end up spending the entire night scrolling through pointless garbage on the Internet. Instead, I flipped it over to hide the blinking light, then I closed my eyes to block it out. I focused on the occasional rushing sound of a passing car outside on the main road, the headlights gliding across the ceiling of my bedroom before disappearing once more into the dim orange glow of the streetlamps.

  When I felt like this, the house seemed so big and empty. Sometimes I wondered if there would ever be a time where I would be laying here like this, except I wouldn’t be filled with anguish, and in the vacant space next to me would sleep my husband, and in the other rooms would be my children, cuddled under their duvets with their soft toys, and my dog would be resting on his mattress at the foot of the bed. It was a nice fantasy. Instead, I was in my early thirties and I had no one. I worked a dead-end job with no prospects. I was sterile, unable to reproduce. I knew I was thinking these things because I was feeling defeated by my mother; usually, I would be sound asleep right now, looking forward to tomorrow, because it was just another day and I had survived this long. I shouldn’t allow her to continue wounding me long after the battle had ended.

  I looked at my phone again and wondered if David would mind if I called. I wanted to hear his voice, knowing it would help banish the thoughts of my mother. I pressed the DIAL button and listened to it ring and ring. I began to think he wasn’t going to answer, but then at last the ringing stopped.

  “Hello?” David’s timid voice whispered.

  “It’s me, Tenny,” I replied, keeping my voice hushed as I didn’t want to be too loud in his ear if I had just woken him.

  “Oh, hello, Tenny! You’re calling awfully late.”

  “I know. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have woken you,” I apologised and prepared to end the call.

  “Is something wrong?” he asked, sounding genuinely concerned.

  “No, no, everything’s fine. I just wanted to hear your voice, that’s all. Just wanted to check that I had your number right, and I guess I do, so, umm…” I was starting to feel like an idiot for calling him. “Did I wake you?”

  “Yeah, but that’s okay. I’m glad you called. I don’t get many calls.”

  “Oh. That’s alright then. I was worried I might annoy you or something. Did you have a nice day today?”

  “It was alright. Just working on some computers I’m fixing. I went to sleep early, though, because I had a headache. How about you?”

  “Nah…nothing exciting. I visited my brother. Played some video games. Nothing much really,” I replied, somewhat awkwardly.

  “You sound sad.”

  “I do?” I was surprised he was able to pick up on my emotions so easily despite my attempts to hide it, especially since he couldn’t see my expressions.

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean it to seem rude.” He sounded embarrassed this time.

  “No, no, it’s not rude at all. Truth is, I kind of had a pretty crap day,” I confessed, figuring I might as well be honest. It’s not like he was a close friend of my mother’s and he might relay our conversation to her. “I saw my mother today and me and her don’t get along too well, so…”

  “I’m sorry that’s so. I—” His voice was suddenly drowned out by the roaring of a loud vehicle passing by.

  “I didn’t hear what you said then. Are you outside?” I questioned, feeling somewhat confused as I thought he had been in bed.

  “I-I just went outside to put some rubbish out.”

  “What were you trying to say a moment ago?”

  He made a timid little chuckle. “I was just going to say I thought you were such a kind person, you were bound to have kind parents, too.”

  “Oh, right.” I laughed, too. “I guess that’s a misconception.”

  “Yeah, I suppose a lot of people aren’t really like their parents,” he agreed sheepishly.

  “Nope. Anyway, I was feeling a bit down and just wanted to chat. I hope I didn’t annoy you,” I answered rather shyly. “I like hearing your voice. It’s so
gentle. You’d be really good at being a voice actor for audio-books or those relaxation tapes, y’know, for meditation?”

  “Ha-ha, I guess I could record some for you,” he tittered, seeming to find the idea very amusing.

  “No, really, I’d like that!”

  He paused. “I really like your voice, too. I never thought I’d get to hear it speaking to me on my phone. I feel like I’m living in a fantasy.”

  My throat grew tight and my heart swelled. Even in previous relationships, no one had ever said anything as sweet about me.

  “Thanks,” I eventually whispered. “This is real, though. We’re not in a fantasy, but we can make your fantasy real. I’d like to.”

  “Really?”

  “Sure. Do you want to?” I inquired, unable to stop myself from smiling.

  “I’m scared that if I do, I’ll open my eyes and it’ll all have just been a dream.” I wished he was here beside me so I could hold him in my arms and reassure him.

  “That won’t happen. Open your eyes. Open them and see,” I whispered again. “Don’t close them because you’ll miss everything that’s happening before you.”

  “No one’s ever wanted me to see them that way.” I thought I heard him sniffle, which only made the ache in my heart worsen.

  “I want you to,” I assured him confidently.

  “Thanks, Tenny…I’m so glad you want to be my friend,” he mumbled, unable to hide the neediness in his tone. I didn’t want him to hide it, though. For some reason, it caused a desire in me to reach out to him, like the way a baby’s cries urge its mother to soothe it.

  “It was you who made it happen. You came to the club, you got my attention,” I reminded him gently.

  “I know, but you came to speak to me first. I was too scared.” He sounded annoyed with himself. “You’re a strong man. That’s why you shouldn’t let your mother hurt you. She doesn’t deserve you or your strength. Still, I’m not sure I do, either.”

  “Oh, David, you’re not like her at all. You’re soft, you’re open-minded, and sweet. You’re like a perfectly prepared garden waiting for some seeds to be sown.” I laughed at my own words and he chuckled, too. “What I mean to say is, by comparison, my mother is a dry, barren wasteland. No love can ever grow there. But you’re the complete opposite.”