Never Let Go (Take My Hand)

by Nicola Haken

  I opened my mouth to answer – to lie to him and tell him Chris was fine. But then my mum chimed in and I lost it.

  “Who cares,” she muttered, sweeping her disinterested eyes across the floor.

  “I CARE!” I blasted.

  “Emily,” Dexter soothed but I ignored him.

  “You know why I care? Because my whole life it’s felt like Chris is my only real family. He’s the only one out of the lot of you who’s been there for me, loved me… guided me. And now he’s dying. You hear me? He’s dying, and I’ll have no one.”

  Just as the colour began to resurface in my dad’s cheeks, it drained away again immediately, leaving him a deathly shade of grey.

  “He’s… he’s…” my dad stuttered, stumbling on his words.

  “He’s got a brain tumour,” I announced. I searched my mum’s eyes for any sign of shock – pain, sadness.

  Nothing.

  “Did you hear me, Mum? You’re son is going to die!”

  “My only child died when she was two.”

  “You heartless bitch!” Dexter yelled. He’d remained silent the entire time but I could tell from the smarting grip he had on my hand that’d had been a struggle for him.

  “Excuse me?” my mum said boldly, widening her eyes.

  “She’s your daughter! What the fuck is wrong with you?”

  “She’s not m-”

  “Jocelyn, no,” my dad interrupted. “Not like this.”

  “W-what do you mean?” I asked, turning my gaze to my dad. Waves of nausea rippled through my belly and if my breathing slowed anymore I was pretty sure I would be dead.

  “Come on, doll. We need to leave.”

  “I SAID WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN?” I roared, shrugging out of Dexter’s grasp.

  “Jocelyn,” my dad warned again. As usual, she took no notice.

  “It means I’m not your mother. It means I was brought in to patch up this family and ended up having to raise two kids who I didn’t particularly want by myself!”

  “JOCELYN!”

  “W-wait… are you disowning me too?” It’s not like I didn’t know how my mum felt about me, but my God that stung. I supposed I’d always lived in hope that she was grieving, and as people say, you take out your pain on the ones you love. Honestly, from the sudden pain in my chest and the tears in my eyes, I never expected it to come to this.

  “You’re not mine to disown,” she said simply. “I’ve just told you I’m not your mother, and I wasn’t speaking in the figurative sense. I. Am. Not. Your. Mother.”

  “Come on, Emily. We’re leaving.”

  “I… how… I…”

  “Doll, you’re shaking. I’m taking you home.”

  “Princess please…”

  “Enough!” Dexter yelled, startling me back into the room. “You’ve done enough. Both of you.”

  I didn’t move. I didn’t speak. I could barely breathe. But suddenly I was moving anyway, and when I focused my tear-stained eyes, I found myself in Dexter’s arms being carried from the house.

  “Princess!”

  My dad kept calling, but soon enough he was just a distant whisper. Dexter carried me to my car and placed me in the passenger seat. When he climbed in the driver side I only worried about the fact he wasn’t insured for a split second, before breaking down, collapsing over the gearstick and sobbing into his knees.

  Who the hell am I?

  **********

  When we got back home I walked absentmindedly over to the sofa and plopped myself down. I stayed there for what could have been forever, unable to move and unable to speak. When Chris got home several hours later, I was still in the exact same position.

  “Emmie?” he asked, dropping his rucksack to the floor and rushing over to me. “What’s the matter with her?” he turned to Dexter when he got no response from me.

  “Your parents.”

  “Jesus,” he sighed. “What the fuck’s happened now?”

  “Mum said…” I began, but had to stop to suck in a deep, shaky breath. “Mum said she’s not…not my mum.”

  Once the words were out I waited. I waited for him to tell me I was being ridiculous. I waited for him to say he was going straight round there to ask why she would lie to me like that. I waited for him to say… anything.

  Silence.

  “You already knew, didn’t you?” Dexter questioned.

  After a long pause that made my heart stop beating, Chris answered.

  “Yeah. Yeah I did.”

  My body craved its usual response to bad situations. I wanted to run upstairs and hide under the bed covers until it all went away. But I was frozen. Numb. Glued to the chair.

  “She’s not my mum either.”

  “Then who the fuck is she?” I blared. “Who is our mum?”

  “Our mum is dead, Emmie. She died giving birth to you.”

  Tears sprang instinctively from my eyes. Bizarrely, I instantly started grieving for someone I didn’t know existed just a few hours ago.

  “How could they keep that from me? More importantly, how could you keep that from me? I’ve always trusted you, Chris. How could you do this to me?”

  “You have to understand, when you were born I was ten years old. Dad told me never to tell you – said it would upset you. You were just a baby, and then by the time you were old enough to be told… so much time had passed. You had a new mum. You were happy – loved. Or… so I thought.”

  “But I wasn’t happy and she made it perfectly clear today that I’ve never been loved either,” I spat acidly.

  “You need to believe me, Emmie… If I’d had any idea she’d been treating you like shit I would’ve stood up for you. I would’ve told you! I wanted to tell you so many times, and if I’m honest I think that’s why Dad said jack shit when that bitch wanted to wash her hands of me.”

  “This doesn’t make any sense,” I muttered, shaking my head. “Yet… somehow it also makes perfect sense. I don’t know what I’m supposed to feel right now.”

  “My guess’d be hurt, angry… betrayed,” Dexter said, pulling me closer towards him.

  “Emmie I’m so sorry. Until you talked to me last week, I genuinely had no clue things were so bad for you growing up. I knew the pair of you argued – didn’t see eye to eye on a lot of stuff… but I thought it was just normal mother daughter shit, you know?”

  “That’s what Dad said.”

  Before I could reply someone knocked, no pounded on the front door. Chris jumped to his feet and made his way towards the noise. Meanwhile, Dexter leaned over and kissed the tip of my nose, combing my hair behind my ear with his fingers.

  “How’d you get my address?” Chris said to whoever stood on the other side of the door.

  “I asked around. Wasn’t too difficult, you’re known by a lot of people.” My heart quickened at the sound of my dad’s voice. Was I ready to see him? Was he my dad or was that going to be the next bombshell? “Can I come in?”

  Chris didn’t reply but he stepped aside, gesturing my dad into the house with a roll of his arm. He walked hesitantly over to me while Chris closed the door. He hovered in the middle of the room, until Chris told him to sit down. Then with a weak, nervous smile, he settled himself into the armchair opposite me. Chris sat on my other side, meaning the three of us were sat in a row, staring at my dad like he was under interrogation.

  “It’s been too long since we were all together,” Dad began.

  “Get to the point, huh, Dad?” Chris shot back, clearly frustrated by his attempt at small talk.

  “Princess I had no idea. I’m so sorry.”

  “You should have told me. Whether Jocelyn was a good mother or not, I deserve to know where I come from!”

  “I… I don’t know what to say. I don’t know how I can make this better.”

  “You could start by telling me the truth for once.”

  “When I lost your mother…” Tears pricked the corners of his eyes and I’d have to have a heart made of stone not to be aff
ected by it. “I was mess, Emily. Your mother raised Chris while I worked all the hours God sent. Suddenly I was left with two children I didn’t have a clue what to do with. Chris cried all the time – of course he did, he missed her. You were a newborn, so naturally you cried all the time too. I started drinking… leaving you with anyone that’d have you. I knew it was wrong and I knew it couldn’t go on. You needed a mother, so I found you one. Jocelyn.”

  “You make it sound like you bought her or something!”

  “No, no… nothing like that. I was well off - she liked that. I bought her expensive gifts, wooed her. She knew I had children but didn’t seem put off by it in the least. For a while she was great with you two. But then we lost Livvie and… she changed. Though I had no idea you were suffering because of it. You have to believe that, princess.”

  “Funny, there’s a lot I ‘have’ to believe tonight. Yet I can’t help not believing a damn word that comes out of anyone’s mouth.”

  “Please. Please let me make this right. Both of you… I love both of you.”

  “Funny way of showing it,” Chris muttered under his breath.

  “I know that,” my dad agreed. “This past few months… Jocelyn and I have been growing apart.”

  “Diddums,” Chris interrupted sarcastically.

  “I’m not asking for your sympathy, Christopher, I’m just trying to explain.” Chris rolled his hand, signalling Dad to go on. “Call it a midlife crisis maybe… all I know is that lately I’ve been regretting so many things. I’ve been looking at my life and realising it’s worth nothing without my children in it. Sometimes when I’m alone I think of Gemma, and I wonder how disgusted she would be with me if she knew what a foul job I’ve done of raising you both.”

  “Gemma?” I interjected. “My mum’s name was Gemma?”

  The name pierced my heart and as I choked out the word, it forced a lump to form in my throat.

  “Yes. And she was beautiful. I’ve never loved anyone the way I loved her,” Dad confessed, closing his eyes briefly and getting lost in the memory. “And I’ll never forgive myself for letting her down. For letting you down.”

  Dexter squeezed my hand as my tears fell faster. Even through his silence he offered the most amazing kind of support.

  “And Christopher… my boy. Were you ever going to tell me?”

  Chris shot me a disapproving look before softening almost immediately.

  “I wasn’t planning to, no.”

  “This is all my fault. I’ve lost you – lost my own children.” My dad threw his head in his hands and his tears seeped through his fingers, falling in little sparkly droplets to the floor. “And for you at least, Christopher… I don’t have time to make it right again.”

  Chris’ own eyes were burning around the edges now, and after exhaling a deep sigh he turned to our father.

  “You can try. I can’t promise anything, but I’m willing to give things a go before… well, you know.”

  “Christopher…” my dad began but the rest of the sentence seemed to have gotten lost somewhere from his brain to his lips.

  “But I want nothing to do with her,” Chris added firmly with a disgusted scowl. My dad nodded weakly, seemingly understanding. “And more importantly than trying with me, you better make damn sure you make it up to this girl here,” he ordered, pointing to me. “You’ve let her down, Dad. She’s grown up wracked with guilt, convinced she killed her baby sister when she was nothing but a kid herself. That’s so fucked up, Dad, and you make that right before anything else. You hear me?”

  “Yes,” he agreed. “I will. I swear to both of you I will make it up to you. I want to be a father again - a real one. I’ve missed out on so much – too much. I refuse to allow that any longer.”

  “Tell me about her?” I asked curiously, wiping the rolling tears from my face on the back of my hand. “Tell me about Gemma… about my mum.”

  **********

  Once we’d been talking for a while a memory that I’d never given a second thought to popped into my mind. When I applied for my passport and my driving licence, both times my dad offered to post them and said he’d slip my birth certificate in as proof of my I.D. before he did so. He gave the same excuse each time – it was filed away in his office and he didn’t have time to go and get it just now. But now I know the real reason I’ve never seen my own birth certificate, and suddenly that one piece of paper means the world to me. It feels like the only connection left between me and my mother and I craved to hold it in my hands, for no other reason than to stare at her name.

  I don’t know how I felt listening to my dad describe the mother I never knew I had. Or at least, I don’t know what emotion to narrow it down to. My chest ached – like something hard was pressing on it from every angle. My eyes stung – like when the very first tear appears and it feels like you’ve got a grain of sand lodged under your eyelid. My stomach twisted – as if it were a piece of laundry being wrung out to dry. And my throat closed up, locking any words inside. It felt like someone had their hands around my neck – choking me – and I started to panic.

  “Emily, calm down,” Dexter ordered, shifting his position so he was right in front of me, holding onto my shoulders. “Breathe for me, doll. Nice and slow.”

  Looking straight into my eyes, Dexter sucked in slow, purposeful breaths through his mouth before steadily blowing them out through his nose. Keeping my eyes on his, my own breaths gradually fell into line with his, and the pressure on my throat eased – calming me instantly.

  “I think you should leave now,” he said to my dad. “She’s heard enough for today.”

  “Princess?” Dad asked, refusing to take orders from Dexter.

  “He’s right. I need some time to process all this.”

  “I can come back though, right?”

  “Yes,” I eventually breathed after a long, hesitant pause. “I’ll call you.”

  My dad’s face crumpled and he wiped away a lone tear on the back of his knuckles before nodding weakly and rising to his feet. He hovered for a moment as if contemplating what his next move should be. Then he took a step towards me and stopped, seemingly thinking better of it.

  “Let’s go some place else,” Chris butted in. “I want to talk too.”

  “W-with me? You want to come with me?” Dad questioned in disbelief.

  “Don’t get your hopes up, I just want to talk. But Dex is right, Emmie’s had enough for today.”

  “I don’t… I mean I…” my dad stumbled on his words before eventually croaking “thank you, son.”

  “Let’s not push it with the ‘son’ thing just yet.” Then, after giving me a brotherly pat on the shoulder on his way past, Chris grabbed his jacket and headed out with our father, leaving me and Dexter alone.

  Not knowing what else to do, I threw myself onto him, and cried violently into his chest.

  Chapter Eleven

  Chris

  When Emmie uttered the words ‘she said she’s not my mum’ my heart sank. After all this time, I never wanted her to find out the truth. I thought it would destroy her. What I should’ve realised however, is that my baby sister is so much stronger than any of us give her credit for. I also should’ve known secrets always have a way of breaking down, and that it was inevitable she would find her whole life being twisted into one giant question mark eventually.

  Now? I’m relieved she discovered the truth while I’m still here to support her. I can get her through this. I can share stories about our mother, I can console her when she cries and I can make damn sure my dad steps up to the mark before I go.

  That’s why I wanted to talk alone with him. I don’t give a shit if he fails me… but if I find out he’s fucked with Emily’s head once I’m gone I will fucking haunt him.

  “This is all such a mess,” my dad said, shaking his head as he draped his long, grey coat over the back of his chair before sitting down in it. We’d stopped at a café nearby. It was quiet enough for us to talk, yet public enough to
stop me flooring the bastard for everything he’s put us through.

  “Your mess. You created it.”

  “I know I did,” he replied on a whisper. In that moment the coffees we ordered when we came in arrived, and my dad looked up at our waitress, forcing a weak smile, before focusing his gaze on the steaming mug. “And I will regret it for the rest of my life.”

  “Why now, Dad? What’s changed? Is it just because Emmie’s found out the truth and you feel like shit for lying to her since she was born?”

  “It’s always been there, son.” There he went again – using that word. I let it go, not wanting to cause a scene in a public place. “This regret, this shame. But do you know why I lied to Emily? Because I didn’t want to deal with it. I didn’t want to have to comfort either of you when you cried. I didn’t want to have to talk about Gemma, or keep pictures of her, memories of her… I wanted you both to forget her.”

  My God… he was fucking serious! There was no mistaking the completely serious and even tone to his voice for anything but honesty.

  “I knew if I had to keep her as part of our lives… it would destroy me. You were a child… Emily was a baby – I didn’t have the first clue how to raise you, and to be honest I didn’t particularly want to learn. You both have Gemma’s red hair, her dimples… Looking at you was torture for me. Thinking about her, remembering her… it hurt so much. I just couldn’t do it.”

  “Have you any idea what a selfish bastard that makes you?” The words spat from my mouth like venom. Yet as much as his words disgusted me, I couldn’t help admiring him for the first time in my life. That level of honesty takes balls.

  “I know that. I’ve always known that. Truth is, I always planned to stop the charade…but every day it got harder. And I swear on Gemma’s grave, Christopher… I had no idea of the tension going on between your mu…Jocelyn and Emily. Some of the things she’s admitted saying to her this afternoon after Emily left… I don’t know how I’m supposed to forgive her. How can a grown woman hold such hatred for a child? And how did I not notice!”

  “Yeah well,” I began, my frustration softening. “I didn’t notice either. I’ve always felt like I knew Emmie better than anyone and yet I had no idea what a miserable childhood she’d had. I mean, sure, there’re kids worse off… kids that have been abused or neglected and stuff like that. But Emily’s spent her whole life blaming herself for killing our little sister. She’s grown up feeling guilty and unloved, and everything she’s ever done with her life has been to try and earn some kind of affection from that vicious bitch you chose to replace our mother!”