by Alex Wheatle
Before Dad placed the fish in the microwave, he switched on the TV and put on this ancient cowboy movie called The Magnificent Seven. I had seen the film about five times already, but Dad would get upset if I complained too much. It’s the greatest western ever made, he always said. It tells you everything you need to know about life. I still can’t believe they killed off Charles Bronson’s character.
So I waited for my second dinner of fish-in-batter and microwave chips while watching these poor Mexicans getting robbed and Yul Brynner doing his cool strut. The Seven were just setting off to face a zillion Mexican bandits with very bad moustaches when Dad served me my meal. The fish looked as dry as a cactus in a mad desert and the microwave chips were stuck to each other. I didn’t complain.
Dad sat down beside me and started his meal.
“How’s your mum?” he asked.
“She’s all right,” I answered.
I wondered if I should tell him about Greyback and the Brat moving in. I decided it was Mum’s job rather than mine.
“I’ve … I’ve been thinking, Welton …” Dad said.
“What about?” I asked.
Suddenly, Dad looked proper sad. His top lip started to wobble. His eyes filled with tears. He turned away. Then he gazed at me.
I wasn’t sure how to react or what to do. It was bad enough watching Darth Vader cry his guts out in Revenge of the Sith, but to see your own dad weeping was mega awkward. I couldn’t move. I was speechless.
“I’ve been such a waste of space,” said Dad, shaking his head and wiping his eyes. “I don’t know what got into me. I suppose I thought the grass was greener on the other side of the fence. My mum always said I act first and don’t stop to think.”
I remained still as Dad went on. For some reason I thought it might be rude if I kept eating. A tear was falling down Dad’s right cheek. I wanted to tell him to wipe it, but I couldn’t. To me it looked like a waterfall.
“I’m going to make things right with your mum,” Dad went on. “I’ve been living in a rut for too long. I want us to be all together again, living under the same roof. I realise I have to show her that I’ve changed.”
Oh, Master Yoda, I thought. The rolling credits on this one won’t be good.
“I love her, Welton,” Dad went on. “Never stopped loving her. Love you too. Never forget that.”
I really should tell him about Greyback, I thought. But what would Dad do if I did? He might just run into the window like that guy who was always committing suicide in The Simpsons. What would Obi-Wan Kenobi do in this situation? I didn’t have a clue. Jedi Knights weren’t exactly marriage counsellors.
“I want you back too,” I managed to say.
Dad smiled, wiped away another tear and ate the rest of his food. I felt a bit better. I wondered who would win in a fight between Greyback and Dad. I’d put my money on Dad – Greyback was getting too ancient and rickety, and Dad might lick him with his extra-long paint-roller. I had to come up with funny stuff like that because it took me away from thinking about Dad crying.
Chapter 13
The Big Reveal
The next morning Dad was in a much better mood. He got up early to buy his newspaper. When he finished reading it, he offered to cut my hair. I agreed. Dad could always cut my hair better than Mum. With the stitches in my forehead and a good haircut, Carmella might change her mind about totally rejecting me.
“I got into the basketball squad, Dad,” I said as he trimmed behind my ears.
“That’s brilliant, Welton! Didn’t even know you liked basketball?”
“Nor did I until I tried it. My first game’s on Tuesday.”
“I’ll see if I can clock off from work early to watch,” Dad said.
Yoda give me strength! I knew Mum would want to watch too and she’d be bound to bring Greyback and the Brat. I could be shooting some wicked hoops, but no one would take any notice because Dad would be mauling with Greyback on the sidelines. Everyone would laugh at me. Harry Stanley would write a new rhyme about my latest humiliation. Carmella might not reconsider going out with me because my family had too many issues.
“I don’t want you to get in trouble at work, Dad,” I said.
“Trouble? No, Welton. I’ll just start early, say seven o’clock, take a half-hour lunch and leave at three thirty. No problem.”
Oh, for the love of Luke! I really should tell Dad about Greyback and the Brat. I just didn’t know how to start. What was I supposed to say? Er, Dad, you know you said you wanted to get back with Mum? Well, er, that’s not gonna happen cos Mum has got this new boyfriend who’s really old and his son is the devil. And, er, they’re moving in next week.
“Have you got all the right gear for your game on Tuesday?” Dad asked now.
“Er, yeah,” I said. “Got everything I need.”
For a moment I was going to tell him that I needed new trainers, but I knew his budget wasn’t well blessed lately. When he called Mum, all they did was argue about how much cash he should give her.
During our breakfast, Dad told me about his mission to set up his own painting and decorating company and his plans for our future as a family. “I took your mum for granted,” he said. “Going out for drinks with workmates, blowing money in the bookies and not spending quality time with you guys. That won’t happen again! No more! We’ll be a team, more of a proper family unit. When I drop you off tomorrow night, I’m going to sit down with your mum and talk this all out.”
Tiny Luke Skywalker appeared on my shoulder. He screamed into my ear and sliced into my skin with his lightsaber. Tell him about Greyback and the Brat! Go on! What are you waiting for? Tell him before it’s too late! Do you want your dad to feel more hurt than he does already?
“Er, Dad,” I said.
“Yes, Welton. What is it?”
I took a deep breath, sucking up all the air from my toes. Dad seemed so happy this morning. He looked better than I had seen him for a long time. He’d even had a shave. He was wearing jeans and a T-shirt that he had ironed earlier. I didn’t want to delete that smile off his face. If anybody was going to do that, it had to be Mum.
“What are we going to do today?” I asked.
“What do you fancy?” he said. “Go to the leisure centre? Swimming? Bowling? Play some pool?”
I didn’t want to tell him, but at twelve and a half years of age I was getting a bit too old to go swimming or bowling with my dad.
“Pool,” I answered.
We drove to this pub called the Nine Mile Arms, about ten miles out of Monks Orchard. Dad led me into the pub and ordered a shandy for himself and a Coke for me. Luckily for us, the pool table was free. I felt like a proper man shooting pool with my dad that Saturday. We were laughing and joking as Dad showed me how to play trick shots and put backspin on the white ball.
When we arrived back at Dad’s place, he let me play my Call of Duty game while he crashed. All the time I was wondering what would happen when Dad found out Mum’s breaking news about Greyback and the Brat moving in.
*
The next morning, Dad convinced me to play table tennis with him at the Monks Orchard leisure centre. Again, he was in a good mood. Smashing the ball into my body made him laugh a lot. It was when we had a drink afterwards that I decided Dad must be told about Mum’s drama.
“You want to get back with Mum, right?” I asked.
“Haven’t you been listening to me all weekend, Welton?” Dad said, swallowing his beer. “Of course I do. There’s nothing I want more.”
“Can … can I talk to her first?” I suggested.
“Welton, I’m sure I can do this myself. I mean, after all, I knew her before you were born. There isn’t anybody alive who knows your mum better, apart from her parents maybe.”
“She … she might be interested in someone else,” I said.
“Someone else? What are you saying?”
“Er, I’m not saying anything. Just that, er, Mum goes out a lot more now than what she use
d to.”
“Goes out with who?” Dad asked. He leaned closer to me. “Who?”
Luke Skywalker appeared on my right shoulder again. He stamped his feet. He had a megaphone in his hands and he jabbed it into my ear. Tell him now!
I hesitated.
I looked up at Dad and thought of the good time we’d had over the weekend. I didn’t want to be the one who burst his good-mood balloon.
“She … she sometimes goes out with workmates,” I said.
“She does, does she? Any workmate in particular?” Dad asked.
“Well, er, not a workmate.”
Luke Skywalker was blazing me with his lightsaber. TELL HIM!
“He … he’s a security guard at the Orchard shopping centre,” I blurted out.
The beer bottle in Dad’s hand stopped just in front of his mouth. I could see him swallowing something, but it wasn’t beer. Dad finally placed the bottle down on the table. “A security guard?” he repeated.
I nodded.
“She’s seeing a security guard?” Dad said again, like I had to tell him ten times before he believed it.
I nodded again.
Dad looked around the cafeteria, trying to be calm.
“You all right, Dad?” I asked.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” he said. “I mean, what did I expect? Can’t expect her to stay single, can I? We split up some time ago. It’s my fault for being so stupid.”
I thought of the Great Smo.
“Sorry, Dad,” I said.
“Not your fault. She should’ve told me, not you. So … how long has your mum been seeing this security guard guy?”
“Er … not sure,” I lied.
“Have a guess?”
“Er, about five months.”
“Five months?!” Dad yelped.
“Yeah, and, er … he’s moving in next week.”
“Moving in?!”
Dad turned away. He gripped his hands and interlocked his fingers.
“You all right, Dad?” I said. “I just thought it was best to tell you. Didn’t want you coming to my B-ball game and seeing them together.”
“You’ve done the right thing, Welton,” Dad said. “And your mum has the right to live the life she wants to live. But when I drop you off later, I still want a word with her.”
“You’re … you’re not gonna go cadazy and cuss the neighbours like you did last time?” I said.
“No, Welton. I’ve matured. I don’t go crazy any more.”
*
Dad was silent while he drove us back to his place. He’d spent time in his room as I played another game of Call of Duty. Just after two o’clock he came out and said, “We’re leaving early today, Welton. Pack up your things.”
“It’s only just gone two, Dad,” I pointed out.
“Remember I said I need to speak to your mum?”
I knew that Greyback and the Brat spent Sundays with Mum. She would usually cook dinner for them and they would go home about five o’clock, so they’d still be in the flat when Dad and I got there.
My heart boomed with surround sound. I tried to think of something to stop him. “You don’t want to go swimming, Dad?” I asked.
“Wasn’t table tennis enough exercise for you? No, I really need to drop you off and talk with your mum.”
I took as long as I could to pack my overnight bag. I spent more than a minute placing it in the back of Dad’s work van. When I sat in the passenger seat, I fiddled with the seatbelt. Dad gave me a long hard stare. I checked the time: 2.30 p.m. He turned the key in the ignition and pulled away.
When we arrived at my block, Dad lifted my bag from the back of his van and waited for me to lead him to my door. Normally, he would drop me off and drive home. Not today.
I turned the key in the front door. I checked behind me. Dad smiled at me. He was still on his best behaviour. Maybe he was too quiet.
I entered my flat. “Welton!” Mum called. “Is that you, Welton?”
“No, Mum. It’s Jabba the Hutt. Of course it’s me!”
“You’re early, aren’t you?” Mum said. “Did your dad have to go somewhere?”
I walked along the hallway with Dad behind me. Mum was in the kitchen. She was washing the dishes. The Brat played a Wii tennis game on the TV. Greyback sat in an armchair. He sipped a mug of coffee. The look on his face when he spotted Dad was just like Luke Skywalker when he saw Yoda for the first time. Greyback took in a breath and placed his mug down on the coffee table. Dad narrowed his eyes and stared at him the way a lion glares at a limping zebra.
“I … I wasn’t expecting you to bring Welton back so soon,” said Mum.
“I need to talk to you in private,” said Dad.
“I have guests, Morris,” Mum said. “Can it keep?”
“No, it can’t keep. It’s about our future.”
“What future, Morris?”
“What do you mean, what future?” Dad asked. “Our future, Angie.”
“I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about,” said Mum. “Like … like I said, I have guests. Can we discuss this another time?”
The Brat paused his game. Even he realised that something dramatic was going down. Greyback stood up.
“No! I don’t want to talk about it another time,” Dad insisted, looking at Greyback. “I want to talk about this now.”
“Er, Welton,” Greyback said softly. “Shall I help you take your bag to your room? I think your parents want some privacy. You come too, Devon.”
“Don’t you talk to my son!” Dad shouted at Greyback.
“I didn’t mean any offence,” said Greyback.
Dad rushed towards Greyback, pulled back his right arm and swung a right hook that connected with Greyback’s jaw. It sent him flying over the coffee table. His ponytail danced in the air. The mug of coffee emptied itself all over the floor.
Dad was standing over Greyback, breathing like an angry Darth Vader. The Brat ran up to Dad and booted him in the leg. “Leave my dad alone!”
Greyback slowly got to his feet, rubbing his jaw.
“Get out! Get out!” Mum yelled at Dad. “Get out of my flat, Morris! Get out of my LIFE!”
Dad gazed at his bruised knuckles and glanced at Greyback. The Brat kicked Dad again. “Get out!” he squeaked. “Get out!”
I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
Dad looked at me with sadness in his eyes. He then stormed out and slammed the door behind him.
“Never step in my flat again!” Mum screamed after him.
She went to tend to Greyback. The Brat looked at me like he wanted to play football with my shins too.
I didn’t know whether to see if Dad was all right or to tell Mum that Dad only acted the way he did because he wanted her back. The Brat returned to his game and I decided to go to my room.
“Don’t you turn out like your dad, Welton,” Mum called to me. “He’s always had a nasty temper. Lord knows how I found myself with him in the first place! What was I thinking?”
Mum’s words were like hot coals dropped onto my heart. He’s my dad! I thought. Yeah, he has his issues and he’s got a temper with it, but I don’t get to choose another one. If Greyback moves in, Dad is still my dad.
I fell onto my bed, closed my eyes and heard Mum cursing Dad’s name for the rest of the afternoon.
Chapter 14
An Unexpected Meeting
Mum was still going on about Dad’s meltdown the next morning, but all I could think about was meeting Carmella by the long-jump pit later on. Today was the day I was going to get officially terminated.
When I arrived at school, I didn’t go up to the gates until I checked to see if Broxslater and Corrington Wingburter were collecting their morning taxes. They weren’t.
I managed to get to registration without seeing Carmella. If she was going to shame me, I only wanted to see her once today.
As Mr Gable took the register, I spotted Harry Stanley bursting to give another rap performance. Others were sh
outing him on. “Go for it, Harry!”
“Welton Blake?” Mr Gable called.
“Here!” I answered.
That was Harry’s cue. I kind of expected it. There was no way I could’ve kept my running into the gym wall a secret. To be honest I felt lucky that nobody had filmed it on their mobile phone and posted it up on YouTube.
Blakey, the fool, went to play basketball
For all his days, he’s never been cool
Not even Z-list chicks fancy him
Blakey playing B-ball should be a mortal sin
He can’t catch, he can’t run
He can’t even beat a nun in a fun run
He can’t jump, he can’t shoot
He doesn’t know where the buttons
go on a three-piece suit
He’s not very tall
To shoot a basket he needs to stand
on a stool
He might now be blind, concussed and all
After his forehead kissed the freakin’ brick wall.
The whole class collapsed in giggles. Two of Harry’s mates rolled on the floor. Even the quiet students were laughing like cadazy. Mr Gable turned his back on the class for a private chuckle.
The only person who wasn’t amused was Coral Chipglider. She was wearing this black make-up I had never seen on her before. She looked like she wanted to drown everyone in the school with her spit. “Shut up!” she yelled, glaring at Harry Stanley, Mr Gable and me. The classroom went quiet, especially those who were within spitting range.
“Thank you,” Mr Gable said to Coral.
“They’re so immature,” Coral said. “Can’t they grow up?”
Mr Gable resumed registration. Harry Stanley made faces at me. He looked seriously disappointed he didn’t get to rap a second verse. Coral stared at me as if she wanted to decorate my face with brown slime from the local swamp. I couldn’t work out why Coral had stood up for me. Maybe I had found the only person in the galaxy who felt sorry for me.
*
I managed to lie low for the rest of the day, which seemed to drag on for ever. But finally it was time for me to meet up with Carmella.
