“Mum? I’m off to bed now so I just thought that I’d say goodnight.” My voice causes her to startle, lately I’ve noticed that the slightest noise makes her jump out of her skin.
“Ok, Bethany, goodnight.” She offers her cheek towards me and I step forward so I can kiss her, only this time I don’t grimace.
I don’t like leaving her downstairs by herself with him but I honestly can’t stomach another moment and that’s why I frequently make my excuses and go to bed like this. I climb the stairs and pray that sleep will soon come. I really don’t want to spend the next few hours tossing and turning whilst tormenting myself about the imminent holiday I have no choice about. I refuse to think about it, its several weeks away and a lot can happen in that space of time. Maybe the vacation won’t even happen, maybe something will come up and we won’t be able to go. I roll my eyes at my optimism knowing that nothing so fortunate will happen.
I enter my bedroom after retrieving my iPod from the bathroom where I left it. My bedroom is mundane and boring just like every other aspect of my pathetic life. I’ve never been able to decide on my own décor, every aspect of this house has been chosen by my father. I hate my maroon coloured carpet and beige wallpaper. It’s dull, insignificant and forgettable, just like me.
I climb into bed and stare up at my bedroom ceiling. I’m wide awake and know that it will be a long time before I eventually fall asleep. I sigh with frustration and switch on my bedside lamp, deciding to try and read some more of ‘Wuthering Heights.’ He might just decide to ask me some questions about it and I need to refresh my memory on what happens in the novel. The copy I have is nearly falling apart, he let me borrow it from the bookstore and I had no choice but to read it.
My father owns a bookstore not far from our house but it only sells second hand books, not the latest bestsellers. That’s why we hardly have any customers; I know this because ever since I left school four years ago I’ve been expected to work there three days a week. That’s why Mondays, Wednesdays and Thursdays are the days I have come to despise the most. They’re the times when I’m alone in the store with him, trapped and coerced into spending nine hours with him a day is too much to bear.
You’d think that this wouldn’t be so bad but believe me, it is. He doesn’t pay me for a start; he expects me to work for him for nothing but then refuses to allow me to get another job. Not that I have any idea what I’d like to do, he’s never encouraged me to think about my career or what I might be any good at. That would mean I’d have some freedom and that is his worst nightmare.
I try to concentrate on my book but I just can’t get into it. I keep listening out for the sound of his heavy footsteps on the stairs. Sometimes he comes into my room to see that I’m sound asleep and to give me another kiss goodnight. I know this because I’m always awake when he comes up to bed; I pretend to be asleep so he’s not aware that I know he comes into my room.
I gradually become absorbed in my book when I start to hear raised voices downstairs. Well, one raised voice, the other just sounds frightened. I can’t make out what he’s saying but I recognise the anger in his voice. I search for my iPod in the chest of drawers by my bed, hoping to try and drown out some of the sound coming from the living room. I really can’t bear to hear him shouting at her but I know that my intervention will do no good; it will only make things worse for her.
In the end I decide I can’t stand it any longer, I need to know what they’re arguing about. I quietly creep out of bed and slowly open my bedroom door. His voice instantly increases in volume and anger. I creep along the landing and concentrate on the conversation going on downstairs.
“Why would you have a problem with me taking Bethany on holiday? She deserves a break and so do I. Do you know how excruciating it is for us having to contend with you every single day? All you do is mope around the house, somehow managing to get even the simplest of things wrong. Jesus, you really are useless.” He snarls disdainfully.
I clench my teeth together, feeling the immense rage towards my father build up inside of me.
“I don’t have a problem with it, Arthur. I just thought that it would have been nice for the three of us to go away somewhere. We haven’t been away together since Bethany was young and if this place is as lovely as you say is then I would really like to come along as well.”
I can hear the tension and the overwhelming fear in her voice, she never confronts my father like this and I’m astounded by the fact that she’s actually challenging a decision he’s made.
“I’ve already decided, Ellen. Bethany and I will be going away and you will stay here. Your mother will need you to be close by and I’m surprised you’re even considering not going into the charity shop for two weeks.”
For the last couple of years mum’s been volunteering in a local charity store. She hasn’t worked since I was born, meaning that she’s been stuck at home every single day for the past twenty years. She only managed to acquire her voluntary position by begging my father for an ounce of freedom. He still isn’t happy about it but he finally acquiesced and agreed for her to donate two of her afternoons a week. Since mum’s been working in the charity store her social life has blossomed and so has her confidence. She’s still controlled by my father’s aggressive dominance but at least she has something. I hope to God he doesn’t plan on taking it away from her right now.
“I suppose you’re right. I really shouldn’t leave mum on her own and I appreciate the fact that you’re respect what helping out in the charity shop means to me. I was being selfish, I’m sorry.”
“I should fucking hope so, your stupidity never ceases to amaze me. Right, I’m going out. Ted invited me over to his and I’ll be spending the rest of the night there. I won’t be home until late.”
I close my eyes upon hearing the vicious sound of his cruelty.
“But it’s half past ten. Isn’t it a bit late to be going out now? Won’t Ted’s wife mind you dropping by at this time?”
“I’m only going to say this one more time. I’m going out and it has absolutely nothing to do with you. Just make sure you clean up the bloody mess you’ve made in the kitchen before I get back. Let’s see if you can get that right.” He yells.
I scurry back into my bedroom as I hear the living room door open, I hold my breath and only release it when I hear the front door slam shut downstairs. He’s gone. The silence that follows is oppressive and heartbreaking. My instinct is screaming at me to go and comfort her but it’s been so long since we shared anything with one another, I no longer know what to say.
For the first time in a long while I don’t feel happy that he’s left. I experience a deep rooted sadness knowing that he will return. He always does.
I climb back into bed and reach for my iPod. I scroll through all of my music, searching for the perfect track to listen to. Music has been my only escape for many years and besides gran it has been my oldest and dearest friend. Music will never hurt you; it will never betray your trust. You can go without it for years and yet when you return it’s like you never left. Music will always be waiting; it will never let you down. I finally decide on the Yiruma piece again, the one I listened to earlier in the bath. I must have listened to it over a thousand times and the beautiful serenity of the composition still astounds me. How is anyone capable of writing such an incredible piece of music?
He bought my iPod for me last Christmas. He knows how much I love music so he knew what buying it would mean to me. The fact that it was a present from my father took the excitement away from finally owning one. I can’t deny the fact that I’d be lost without it but I always wish that it had come from anyone but him, the only compensation is the knowledge that the music I download onto my iPod is the only part of my life he has no say in.
I start to imagine an alternative lifestyle for myself. I think about who I could be, where I would live and what I’d be doing. Maybe I’d be at University or go to Art College. I fantasise about all of the possibilities that would be
in reach, if only I weren’t his daughter.
As my tears slowly start to fall I switch my bedroom lamp off, preferring the darkness to the harsh and cruel reality of my prison. I open my bedroom curtains wondering if there’s a full moon. I smile weakly when I realise that it is and the brilliant ethereal light from it floods into my bedroom.
I can hear mum downstairs tidying up in the kitchen. It’s now eleven o’clock and I know that it’s way past her bedtime. She must be exhausted; she was preparing his meal for hours before he arrived home. I wonder why he came home early tonight, it’s not like him, maybe he come home especially to tell me the news about his planned vacation. I groan, turning over onto my side so I can face the window. I can’t think about that right now, I’ll make myself ill with dread and worry.
During my final moments of consciousness, right before I fall asleep I whisper a silent prayer. It’s the same prayer that I’ve made every single night for as long as I can remember. I pray for an escape, for freedom. I pray for a way out and to find the courage and the opportunity to break free and to leave all this behind. I plead for the one thing I’ve never had and yet desire the most… to be happy. Every night I pray for what could be. My prayer has not yet been answered but I’ll continue to patiently wait for the day that it will be and when that happens… I’ll be ready.
Chapter Two
I know that some people would say I’m spoilt and unappreciative of being the sole recipient of a father’s overprotective love and devotion. I know that there are many who don’t even have a father. I know that some people are abused or ignored by their parents and as selfish as I might seem by admitting this, I don’t care.
I would much rather be ignored and overlooked by him than this. I would sacrifice every scrap of affection that he has for me and throw it back in his face. Every. Single. Time.
As a child I quickly figured out that his treatment of me wasn’t normal. I used to worry about how it must have made my mum feel. He treated her with such disregard and contempt whilst his love for me didn’t falter. I didn’t understand it and I still don’t but I’ve finally reached a place where I don’t blame myself for his mistreatment of my mum. I realised a long time ago that it’s not my fault.
I used to live in fear that one day she’d turn around and blame me, that she’d point the finger and grow resentful of my father’s favouritism. Thankfully, that day never arrived. I’d trade places with her if I could, I’d give anything for her life to be just a tiny bit better and over the years this has helped me live with the guilt.
The first sensation I experience this morning is dread. There’s a hollow and empty hole inside of me and I no longer know how I can fill it. I realise that no matter how I try to manipulate the situation this vacation is going to happen. I’ve learnt how to pick my battles (not that I win many when it comes to my father) and this is an unfortunate occasion where I know that I have no chance of winning.
I wake up to a silent house. Today is Saturday so I know he’ll already have left for work. Everyday he opens the bookstore bright and early, especially on Saturday’s when it’s his busiest day. However, when I say busy I mean that he might serve five customers instead of his usual three. It’s safe to say that business is bad.
I yawn and stretch before forcing myself from my bed. Knowing that me and mum have the house to ourselves this morning is a luxury that I never get tired of. Mum usually does the housework on a Saturday morning but once her chores are complete we usually make our weekly visit to see gran. I’ve always been close to my grandmother but our shared resentment and dislike over my father has certainly solidified our friendship over the years. She’s the only person who knows how I truly feel about him.
I cross the hall into the bathroom and turn on the shower. I decide to spend longer in there today seeing as I know nobody will be banging on the door telling me to hurry up. I close my eyes and relax under the steady stream of hot water, appreciating every single moment that I have to myself.
After my shower I quickly dress and make my way downstairs, the house feels so peaceful when he’s not here, even mum relaxes a little. I notice it in her mannerisms and the tension that seems to subside when he’s not around.
“Morning, Mum. Did you sleep well?” I ask her cheerfully as I enter the kitchen.
She startles at the sound of my voice, dropping one of the wet plates she was in the middle of washing.
“I did, thank you, how about you?” She asks, visibly relaxing when she realises that it’s only me.
I know she’s lying. The dark circles underneath her eyes give away the fact that she’s not sleeping properly. Not that I blame her, I can’t even begin to contemplate the horror she must feel having to sleep next to him.
“I had a good rest.” I lie.
“I’m glad.” She says quietly, turning away from me to get on with washing the dishes.
“What time do you want to go and see gran?” I flick the kettle on and lean against the kitchen counter, observing her closely for any signs that my father did more than argue with her last night. I didn’t hear him return home but that doesn’t mean he didn’t give her a hard time when he got back.
“Well, I thought we could have some breakfast together and then make our way there after that. Is that ok with you?”
“That sounds perfect.” I say happily, no longer embarrassed to admit that Saturday mornings are my favourite time of the week. I’d visit gran everyday if I could.
We eat in companionable silence and I offer to clean up whilst she gets ready. She protests at first but when I refuse to give in she reluctantly complies and goes upstairs.
The short walk to gran’s is also pleasant. The weather isn’t too cold for this time of year and the warmth of the sun is shining down on us. The leaves crunch underneath our feet and I know it won’t be long until the harsh, relentless cold of winter will descend upon us so I try to enjoy the last bit of nice weather we’re getting whilst I can.
We arrive at gran’s house just a few minutes later and wait a few moments before she answers the door. She opens it with a big smile on her face for both of us. She might be in her eighties but I still find her beautiful and the pictures of her when she was younger are proof that she was absolutely stunning in her youth. Unfortunately, I look nothing like she did.
“Sorry I took a while to answer, I was out in the garden.” She beams at me with a smile that’s so bright and welcoming it’s contagious. She opens her arms out for me and I hurry into her embrace, enjoying the warmth of being greeted so affectionately. Her arms are frail and thin but there’s still such strength in her hug as she squeezes me tight.
“I’ve missed you, Gran.” I whisper softly so only she can hear.
“You too, sweetheart. You get more and more beautiful every time I see you.” She whispers back.
We frequently have our private little conversations like this and I sometimes worry that our shared closeness will cause mum to feel left out or unwanted.
I’ve never once believed that I’m beautiful. I’m actually certain that I’m not. My skin’s so fair it’s practically alabaster and I have a dull shade of brown hair; the only thing I do like about myself is my green eyes. My hair always looks a mess because I can’t do anything with it. I don’t own a pair of straighteners and I only get it trimmed at the hairdressers occasionally so it’s quite long. I’m ordinary and insignificant, certainly nothing special but I don’t like to rebuff gran’s compliments and so I choose to say nothing.
We’re quickly ushered into the house and I make my way into the living room whilst mum hastily scuttles off into the kitchen to make us all a cup of tea.
“So, how are you?” I ask, sitting down at the foot of her old arm chair, knowing that she’ll be sitting there. I want to be as close to her as I can.
“I’m fine but what about you? I want to know everything that’s going on inside that head of yours. Tell me how you are.”
I chuckle, wondering what on earth she thin
ks I have to tell her seeing as nothing and I mean absolutely nothing ever happens in my life. I look up into her watery blue eyes that still shine with laughter and mischief. They’re the same colour as my mum’s but look completely different. My mum’s are now lifeless and empty whereas my gran’s are always sparkling and happy. Her name is Rose and she’s certainly as beautiful as one, especially in her youth.
“I’m alright. Nothing’s changed since last week, same as usual.” I say gloomily.
“So when do you plan on changing things? That despicable man’s taken so much from you already, he’s destroyed your mother and I don’t want to see the same thing happen to you. I don’t want you to suffer the way she has. When I look at my daughter now I don’t even recognise her, she’s a ghost of the woman she used to be.”
I can’t even imagine how it must hurt my gran to see my mum the way she is. She’ll never forgive him for all the abuse her daughter’s had to endure over the years. It’s a miracle that gran doesn’t blame me for any of it, maybe my mum would have found it easier to walk away from him if it weren’t for me but she’s always known that he will never, ever give me up.
“Gran, I know what you’re saying and one day I promise you that I’ll get away from him but until that day I’m stuck.”
“I just wish that you could meet somebody. Someone who will take care of you the way your father should have taken care of her.”
“It’s not that easy. I never get an opportunity to socialise and I don’t see that changing anytime soon.” I rub my forehead, trying to ease the tension that’s building there.
“If your situation won’t provide you with anything then you’re going to have to take it, Bethany. Don’t live the life that he’ll allow you to have, get out and create one for your own. We only get one shot at this and we can’t afford to mess it up. Everyday I have to live with the guilt and the regret of what I should have done to protect your mum. I could have saved her from the poor existence that she contends with today.”
Always & Forever Page 2
