Cas
It’s been a long ass day and the last place anyone will look for me is my old room at the club. I spent years of my life in this room, escaping the world, fucking woman after woman, hurting Alannah. So many memories.
I’ve come a long way from the lonely kid who showed up here. I spent half my life feeling utterly alone and the other half, drowning in friendship and family, I didn’t know how to handle them all at first. I take out the photo that basically lives in my back pocket and all I can see is the little boy who had no one, because of Jacqueline. She took everything from me and she thinks she can show up now and be welcome. A lot of the kids in the foster system knew at least who their mother was, they’d be whores or addicts or both who neglected their offspring, but the kid’s moms had a name, and a face to go with the name. I had nothing, and I got so much shit for it off the other kids all the time. I couldn’t work it out at first, we were all in the same situation, none of us were wanted, yet they took great delight in torturing me. Then I worked it out, they picked on me because they were hurting just like I was, so I started getting even. For every remark I heard thrown at me, I threw a punch back with more impact. After a week or two of pummelling people’s faces in, it worked, and I was left alone. Until I was moved to a new home and I had to repeat the process all over again. My childhood was a constant struggle, every single fucking day a drag of lonely hardship and when I climbed into bed each night, no one was there to tuck me in and tell me everything was going to be okay.
A knock at the door startles me and I quickly shove the photo in my pocket and out of sight. Obviously, I can still be found here.
“Come in.”
Slade pops his head in and holds out an envelope. It’s thick with what I hope is all the information I’ll need so I don’t need to speak to that woman again. I can leave her in the past just like she left me.
He walks in and gives me the envelope when I don’t move. I can’t move, only to take the information on my life that I should already know.
“Has anyone seen this?”
He shakes his head and asks, “Who is she, Cas?”
“No one.”
“She must be someone,” he pushes.
Sighing, I tell him to close the door and I wait till there are no ears around to listen in.
“She claims she’s my mother.”
“What? There’s nothing on her record about her having a son.”
I hand him the photo.
“She gave me this, apparently, it’s me.”
He takes a long look and gives it back.
“Only you and Sparky know about this, so keep it to yourself.”
“Sure. Do you need anything else?” he asks.
“No…yes, I don’t want to be disturbed tonight.”
When he leaves, I swear he takes all the air with him. It’s stuffy and humid in here.
I flip the envelope around in my hands and my heart picks up rapidly. I burn to find out what’s inside. However, it’s time I tell Alannah what’s going on and I want to share this with her. I need to go home.
I slip out and down the back stairs, unseen by my brothers. The house is lit up when I arrive, and I have the same sense of belonging I always have when I come home. It’s late and Leo is already in bed and Alannah is in the kitchen.
“Come and sit with me,” I say, sliding a chair out for her.
She stops chopping and puts down the knife, frowning at me. She joins me at the table and I slide the envelope across to her.
“A couple of days ago, a woman showed up at the club claiming she’s my…” I can barely say the word out loud to her, but I have too, “Mother.”
I’ve shocked her, her mouth opens and closes yet she doesn’t say a word. I sit by and watch her turn from surprised to angry. Her neck reddens, and her eyes narrow into slits.
“How dare she turn up now, what could she possibly want after all these years?”
“I didn’t give her the chance to explain, I left and had Sparky get rid of her.”
Alannah moves her chair closer to mine and she squeezes my thigh.
“Slade dug up everything he could find on her…I can’t open it, but I want to know what’s inside. I need you to do it.”
“You should read it first, Cas.”
Shaking my head, I lean forward and raise her hand to my mouth. My lips linger on her skin before my plea escapes me.
“You have stayed by my side after everything I put you through in the beginning, you’re the only person on this earth who knows every inch of my soul because you never gave up on me. We promised to be there for each other, I need you to be here for me now and read me everything that’s inside.”
I release her hand and she scoops up the envelope. Her fingers tremble as she rips it open and a wad of papers appear.
Time ceases to exist, her lips part and she takes a breath, it feels like my heart stops.
“Her name is Jacqueline Morris, she is fifty-one years old…”
I quickly work out the math.
“So, she was sixteen when she had me and fifteen when she fell pregnant?”
“Looks like it, babe.”
She was so young. Essentially, a child having a child.
“Go on.”
“Um…she got married at eighteen and remained married until her husband died last year from liver failure.”
“What was his name?”
She reads down the page.
“Matthew Morris.”
That was the name she gave when she knocked at the house last week. Could he be my father?
“Her medical history isn’t nice to read. Broken bones, fractures, concussions, it goes on for four pages,” she says, scanning through the papers.
I take them from her and read for myself. She’s suffered a broken jaw, broken arms, a fractured skull, broken cheekbones, and numerous black eyes.
It sounds like she’s a victim of domestic abuse, no one is that clumsy. I should be consumed with rage, but I feel nothing.
“She never had any other children, she worked as a secretary for thirty-one years in a dental surgery. She hasn’t had much of a life.”
I need another drink. I throw the papers down and scoot Alannah away. I get up and reach on top of the cupboard for the full bottle of tequila. I grab two glasses from the side unit and sit down, pulling Alannah close to me again.
“What are you going to do with this information?” she asks, as I pour us a drink.
“I honestly don’t know.”
I pull out the photo and she takes it from me.
“What’s this?”
“It’s me, as a baby.”
She scrutinizes it as hard as I have been and looks back to me.
“You look like Leo when he was born,” she says.
“You reckon?”
“Definitely.”
She puts the photograph down and moves from her chair onto my lap.
“Whatever you decide to do, I’ll be there right by your side. However, I think you should talk to her, if only to find the answers you’ve wanted your whole life.”
It was only a matter of time before she hit me with the talk-to-her speech. I expected her to, and maybe, it’s what I need from her. She isn’t going to stop until I’ve had some sort of interaction with the woman. I reckon if I’m not pushed, I won’t speak to her at all.