Cruel Kisses: It’s Just High School #2

by Mpofu, Thandiwe

  “Help me…”

  I freeze as the memory I’ve managed to suppress slams into me, the voice so chillingly clear that for a moment, I could swear I heard my brother’s anguished voice, filled with fear, crying out for help.

  I look up and see mom’s face. It’s so pale now, almost as white as a sheet. Sweat dots her brow and she starts trembling in place, her hands clenched tightly as she stares like a dead fish at Nicky.

  “Do they know about that horrendous part of you, Courtney?” Nicky taunts.

  “Please…” Mom croaks and I almost reel back. “Please don’t.”

  “The weather must be nice up there on your high horse looking down on the rest of us mere mortals,” Nicky says, “I might be many things, Courtney, but I would never beat a child up, starve them almost death and keep them isolated until my husband who doesn’t love me has no choice but to ignore that child, just to silence and appease the demons in your head.”

  “Jesus,” Cole mutters.

  “I would never do that. Even if that child wasn’t mine.”

  “Holy shit.” Cole whispers as all the blood in Liam’s face seems to drain in an instant.

  Beat up a child?

  Starve them almost to death?

  I stagger back like someone just punched me. I feel sick to my stomach and the fucking thing in my chest is in so much agony, I want to reach in and pull it out, maybe everything will hurt less.

  “No,” I whisper to myself, shaking my head vehemently. No…

  “What is she talking about?” Liam shouts in horror, staring at our mother who looks more like a stranger in that moment. But all I see, all I hear, is Aiden begging for help as my mother ignored him.

  “Mommy, Aiden needs our help.”

  I remember now what she said.

  “No, he doesn’t.”

  7

  The build up into anger is like the striking of a match.

  Everything feels normal for a second before the intensity of the flames lick across my back, making my blood boil. My body is tense, my shoulders tight and my jaw’s ticking to the uneven, hard rhythm of the pounding thing in my chest.

  This can’t be real.

  But it is.

  I remember the scars on Aiden’s body.

  I remember the way he used to shy away from Mom whenever she was in the room, the way he used to clam-up when she was around. I chalked it all up as nerves, that ‘our’ mother made him feel strange, but I think somewhere in the back of my mind I always knew that she resented Aiden—knowing Liam, he probably knew that too.

  For a long time, I told myself that mom was cold and almost indifferent toward Aiden because he was different, but now I know better. It’s like the truth has just been dipped in hot, liquid tar and then poured down my back because the truth is, Aiden wasn’t Courtney’s biological son.

  And so, she did whatever the hell she wanted, punishing him for sins that weren’t his to answer to.

  I’m strangely aware that there’s shouting and screaming happening around me, but all I can think, all I hear, is my brother.

  “You had no right!” someone screams.

  “They had a right to know how evil you are,” Nicky responds calmly.

  It’s crazy how anyone can say that with a calm finality, like discussing the weather or food choices on a menu.

  “Get the hell out of my house!” Mom cries, but her voice is more of a scratching sound on a chalkboard at this point, jarring me out the strange state of mind I’ve just fallen in.

  “What the hell is she talking about?” Liam shouts now, his face clouded in anger, outrage and shock in his eyes. It’s like a bomb waiting to detonate, destroying everything in its path. Hell, it already did. “Tell me she’s lying, Mom!”

  Courtney just stares at Liam, her mouth opening and closing like a fish.

  She beat my brother.

  Aiden was scared of her.

  She’s the reason he had night terrors.

  “It was you.” I clench my fists so tight, I’m losing feeling there bit by bit as I look up at my mother, feeling sick to my stomach. “It was you.”

  “Juliana, my baby…”

  “You tortured Aiden?” I whisper. A dangerous, electric shiver going down my spine. My vision seems to dim at the edges, my breathing now labored as my chest constricts so tight, if I make a move wrong, I might snap in two.

  “Julian,” she cries, but I can’t see her. I can’t see anything really. “Please…”

  “You hurt him.”

  “J, calm down bro,” Cole warns. I see him step in my direction from the corner of my eye, his stance ready and cautious. “Just breathe.”

  How do I do that? How do I take a breath when my own mother tortured my brother?

  “Julian, please, I was young and stupid…” Mom cries. “I didn’t know any better.”

  “You’re the reason he had nightmares, the reason he screamed at night. You never cared for him, you never touched him or comforted him. You never fed him or looked after him. You always had someone else do it. You never tucked him in bed like you did with Liam and me. You never cared if he ate or was okay. You never came to the hospital when he was sick…” I mutter, my mind scrambling to piece together the scattered fragments of my memory. “You hated the very existence of him.”

  “Fuck,” Cole mutters, now pacing a hole in the floor.

  “Julian,” Mom starts with a gasp, tears running down her cheeks, her eyes wide and pleading for something that makes the inferno of anger in me even hotter. “I was only twenty-two when Aiden…”

  “You fucking did it?” Liam shouts. Courtney gasps, clutching her pearls, looking distressed and out of her mind but still guilty as hell. How could she do that?

  “Liam, I was young and…”

  “And what?” Liam shouts, cutting her off. “You were young and what? The worst human on earth? Torturing a child? Jesus.”

  There’s a low buzzing sound coming from somewhere, like the one when something is about to blow up. I hear it getting louder with each breath I take as old memories resurface with a vengeance.

  I remember the way never wanted to be touched, except when dad was there.

  Dad…

  I always wondered why Aiden never resented the asshole for not being there for him. But then Aiden was better than me. He didn’t hate anyone, he was the very best of this fucked-up family, pure at heart, authentic with his feelings and when it came to Dad, he loved him with his whole heart even though I was silently hating the bastard.

  But now this? He ignored Aiden… just to appease my hateful mother?

  “Please,” I hear her cry, her voice a low rasp that sends chills running down my back.

  I have no idea who she’s begging, but the violence I feel in my body right now… no, I need to get out of here.

  I turn to leave but a hand on my arm stops me.

  “Julian, you need to understand. I was young—”

  “What the fuck can I understand, huh?” I snap, turning around to look at her with a dead stare so cold she jumps back, her face falling.

  “Julian…”

  “No, I understand perfectly clear what you did. I understand that you hurt people. You hurt my brother. You were the face of his terrors and you… you took his voice…”

  “I never meant to hurt him.”

  “But not only that, you hurt Mia! You have so much hate in you is it any wonder that I’m like this?”

  I hate that my voice breaks at the end.

  I hate that I didn’t push Aiden to tell me what was going on.

  I hate that years went by without actually knowing the dark, inhumane things that were happening in this house.

  I hate myself for not doing anything about it all.

  “Oh God,” Courtney whimpers, snot running down her nose, mixing with tears and the fake remorse on her face. “I didn’t know any better.”

  Yeah, she did. She knew exactly what she was doing.

  “You tortured him!”
I shout. “You are my fucking mother and you tortured my brother. Why? Because he was different? Because he wasn’t yours?”

  “Because your father’s attention was always on him,” she confesses the words in a low tone but everyone hears her and I almost reel back like she just slapped me.

  “Jesus,” Liam gasps. “You beat him up, left him alone in the dark then starved him, all because your husband didn’t give two shits about you?”

  My God.

  Everything’s so fucked up that even Cole is crouched on the floor, unable to stand any more, his hands on his head, a faraway look in his eyes.

  Can you blame him? What the fuck do you do with this? Where do you go from here?

  How did I not see this before?

  You didn’t see it? Or you refuse to believe it?

  “Liam,” Mom whispers. “I didn’t know any better…”

  It feels like the ground is shaking under me, threatening to topple me at any second.

  “No,” he mutters, cutting her off. “I don’t want to hear another word coming from you.”

  “Liam, baby, please…”

  Liam shakes his head, tears running down his face, pain contorting his face as he looks at the ceiling, then he looks around the room then stops on me, his gaze holding mine.

  I see the moment the confusion clears as he finally gives in to the turmoil that’s ravaging his insides like it’s destroying me.

  Some days I know my brother better than I know myself and today, how fucked up is it to be connected in this kind of tragedy and devastation? That your mother abused your brother because your father loved him and not her?

  Liam looks away, then walks over to our mother, who’s now a whimpering, trembling mess.

  I have no idea what happened to Nicky but she’s no longer in the room, having done her work, why would she stick around for the aftermath?

  Liam stops in front of her, and she looks up at him, desperation in her eyes.

  “Liam, please forgi—"

  But Liam cuts her off.

  “I never want to see your ugly, blotched up face ever again in my life,” he whispers, his eyes flat, his voice low and scratchy. His body is tense and I know, he really means it.

  “No, no, Liam…”

  “Have a fucking good life, mother.”

  And with that, Liam shoots me a withering look, turns on his heel and leaves.

  A deafening silence falls over us until all I can hear are soft cries and the demand in my own dark soul to let lose.

  Dread washes over me. This is bad. This is so fucking bad. I should follow after Liam; God knows what he’ll do right now.

  “I got it,” Cole says, his voice low and he goes after Liam without a backward glance, leaving me with my lying, deceitful, abusive mother.

  Courtney turns to look at me, her eyes pleading, but she should know better than that.

  “Where is she?” I demand.

  She frowns but I know she knows who I’m talking about.

  “Julian, she’s no good for you. There are things you don’t know, that she doesn’t know. Your father—"

  “Where the fuck is she?” I seethe, my voice low as I stare at… a stranger. This woman is no longer my mother. She hasn’t been for years, but I see the reason why now.

  There was always something hovering in the shadows, a nagging suspicion, but I never could put my finger on it until today.

  Mom wipes away her tears, scrambling to put herself together but fails miserably.

  “I don’t know where she is.”

  “But you knew she’d leave.” It’s not a question, it’s a fact. My mother knew what she was doing when she talked to Mia last night.

  “Yes,” she admits, her gaze hard, but tears still run down her cheeks.

  “How did you know?”

  “She saw something.”

  “What?”

  “Your father in bed with the love of his life.”

  I almost roll my eyes, but I stop, studying her closely. The love of my father’s life?

  “By love of his life I know you don’t mean yourself,” I taunt.

  “And I don’t mean that tramp with a big mouth either,” she counters, her voice still hoarse but the truth is so clear in front of me that I freeze.

  HOLY FUCKING SHIT.

  I try my fucking best not to react but she sees the shock in my eyes, and she scoffs.

  “Yeah, you see how fucked up this is, don’t you? Now do you see? I was only trying to look out for you…”

  “Don’t”

  “What?” she gasps.

  “Don’t pretend like you care,” I grit out. “You forfeited all rights to be my mother when you abused Aiden, physically, emotionally and psychologically.”

  “Julian…”

  “I swear to God, if he was still alive, I’d make sure they lock you up and throw the damn key away.”

  She gasps, fear in her eyes.

  “But he’s gone,” I state, ignoring the bite of pain in my chest. “Now, my brother said he never wants to see you again. I agree with him.”

  “No…”

  “And you better pray that wherever Mia is, she’s all right because I know you made sure she saw that shit last night. I know you wanted her gone and I know you’re a cold, heartless bitch who never had a drop of love in her life so you decided to take away whatever hopes any of us would have at love,” I growl, each word laced with so much hate and venom, she actually takes several steps back. “For your own good, mother, stay the hell away from us.”

  And with that, I turn around, ignoring her cries and the vacant look in her eyes ignoring the fact that they look so much like the pair I see in the mirror. And to think Mia looked into those very eyes as she came in arms, then when I broke her heart, all over again.

  The anger in me needs an outlet and I know just where to release it.

  * * *

  Without knocking, I burst into dad’s office, not caring about the distraught look on his face as he stares blankly at the muted TV screen or the fact that he hasn’t showered or shaved this morning.

  “You let her torture my brother?” I demand, my fists clenched so tight, I feel like all my finger bones might break. Dad looks up at me, surprise in his eyes, making me scoff. “Ah, bet you didn’t think I’d find out about your pathetic and dirty little secrets, huh?”

  “Actually, I’m surprised it took you this long to ask that very question, considering that Aiden did tell you.”

  “What the fuck?”

  Aiden told me? When? Why can’t I remember that?

  He sighs, then chugs the rest of whatever he’s drinking back.

  “I don’t expect you to remember the vow you made when you were what, three or four years old, buddy, but you swore to protect your baby brother and your older brother.”

  “I remember that.”

  “And why do you think that is?”

  “I…” I start, then clear my throat when my voice comes out hoarse. “I just assumed it was something I had to do.”

  Guess I was right on point but did a fucking crap job all round.

  “No,” he says. “Aiden told you that your mother was hurting him when I was away. Actually, you’re the one who then told me.”

  “I did?” I question, stunned.

  “Yes. Courtney had been starving and isolating Aiden alone for hours before I came back from work. You were always a well-advanced child, Julian and your first word was of course, Aiden,” he says, a distant look in his eyes as if remembering a nasty memory. “You came in here and tugged my hand, demanding that I follow you, muttering Aiden’s name. You were so agitated and angry when I didn’t move.”

  Fuck this shit! How many times am I supposed to break before I sink into a hole I’ll never be able to crawl out of? First Mia, now all this shit with Aiden?

  “I followed you of course, where we found my boy crouched in the dark, scared shitless, his pants soiled, his belly growling with hunger,” he grits out, his voice breaking w
ith each horror revealed. “But you… it was you who noticed the damn whip in the corner.”

  “Jesus.”

  “Yeah well, that was all I could say when we found him but fuck, I remember I couldn’t move. I couldn’t speak, how could I when your mother reduced me to a fucking boiling inferno of anger?”

  There’s so much I want to say to that, so many accusations on the tip of my tongue but I don’t say a word, trying to hold on to my sanity as I stare at him, fighting off tears and pain.

  “A better man could have done what you did, hugged your brother close and vow to always be there and protect him,” Dad goes on, his voice still low, the regret in it only fueling my barely repressed rage. “A better man could have put his fucking foot down, but as we both know, I’m not that better man.”

  Anger courses through my veins. My fists are tightly clenched. The need to rip my father a new one so damn brazen, I almost haul him over his fucking desk by the fucking collar of his shirt, but I don’t. Instead, I just stand there staring down at him, the weight of my failures crashing into me.

  “Liam was only just a toddler then but you…” he breaks off, then sighs heavily.. “You took it upon yourself to vow to care for them and that was after he told you who had hurt him.”

  Stunned, I watch as a lone tear rolls down his left cheek. If he notices it, he doesn’t let it show.

  It’s then that I take a closer look at my father.

  His clothes are the same ones he wore yesterday, but now wrinkled. I can see crimson stains of blood on the rolled-up sleeves, scattered up and down the length of the sleeve. He isn’t wearing his tie—a feature that’s so apart of him when he’s in the office, as is breathing. His hair is messy as if he’s been running a hand through it and gripping it all night.

  He didn’t bother to shave or put himself together. Instead, for the first time in my life, I feel like I’m looking at the real man beneath the whole prominent John Fitzgerald mask.

  And the real him is nothing more than a drunk, sad and heart broken asshole—a mirror image of myself.