Bastard(57)

I take the few steps that are separating us and sit down beside her. “If you’re fine, why are you crying?” Did I just ask her that? Now I want to punch myself in the mouth for being so stupid. For some reason though, I want to know why she’s upset.

“I told you I’m fine.”

“Okay. If you say so.” I know she’s lying but I’m not going to push it. I’m not leaving her though. We sit in silence for a few minutes staring out over the lake. When I see her raise her hand to her face out of the corner of my eye, I know her silent tears are still falling. It hurts me to see her like this.

I move my hand slightly to the left and lace my fingers through hers. She may not want to talk but I find myself hoping that me being here is comforting. “Today is the anniversary of my mum’s death,” she whispers. Fuck. That explains the tears.

“I’m sorry,” is all I say. Lame I know, but I’m not good with shit like this.

“My dad locks himself in his room every year on this day. He drinks a bottle of scotch and cries. I can’t stand it. It tears me up inside. That’s why I’m sitting out here. So I don’t have to hear him.” Christ. I have no words for what she just told me, so instead I squeeze her hand.

Holding her hand and being so close has all my senses on high alert, but I have a feeling tonight she needs a friend more than anything. “I’m sure you both miss her. I’d be lost without my mum,” I confess.

“We do. The only memory I have of her is being sick. My dad tried his best to shelter me from her illness. She was in bed a lot. I remember on her good days my dad would let me lie with her. She’d sing to me sometimes and stroke my hair.” A small smile graces her face when she says that. “It makes me sad that her life was cut so short. She was only twenty-eight when she passed. Mostly I’m sad for my dad. He’s so lost without her. It’s like when she died, his light went out. I know he loves me, but it’s a different love to the one he had for my mum. He does a good job of hiding it most days, but days like today shows just how much her death has affected him. I also hate that she missed seeing me grow up, and before you say anything smart, I’ve grown a lot since I was six.”

“Really? You must’ve been fucking miniscule when you were six then.”

“Ha ha,” she says bumping my shoulder. She walked right into that one.

“Jokes aside,” I chuckle, “it would’ve been tough for him. Losing his wife and having to bring a child up on his own.”

“It was. I’m sure it still is at times. Is your dad still alive?” she asks. Usually that question would get my back up, but tonight it doesn’t. I’ve never talked about this with anyone before, but surprisingly for the first time in my life I want to talk about it. I want to open up to her.

“I have no idea. The day he found out my mum was pregnant with me, he took off.”

“So you’ve never met him?” she asks turning her face to look at me.

“No. It’s only ever been my mum and I. Well it used to be until she married that cocksucker.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispers squeezing my hand. “Do you have any other family? Like grandparents?”

“No. My mum’s parents kicked her out when she got pregnant. Apparently she brought shame on the family. She lost everything because of me. She took me back there when I was five. It didn’t go down too well. My grandfather called me a bastard and slammed the door in our face.”

“What? Oh. My. God. That’s awful. I’m sorry that happened to you. Is that why you always refer to yourself as a bastard?” she asks. I can hear the sorrow in her voice as she speaks. I probably shouldn’t have opened up, but I actually feel a kind of relief talking about it. Like a weight has been lifted off my chest.

“It’s the truth. I am a bastard. Nothing can change that.” After all these years I still feel shame when I think about that day and what that word means. She lets go of my hand and reaches up to turn my face towards her. When I see tears welling in her eyes it brings a lump to my throat.

“You’re not a bastard, Carter. Please don’t ever think that way about yourself.”

“I still remember the day I looked up the meaning of bastard in the dictionary.” I exhale when I think back to that day. The motherfucking day I learnt what I really was. A person born to parents not married to each other. A person considered to be mean or contemptible. A person, especially one considered to be unfortunate. Irregular, inferior, or of dubious origin. “I was crushed, but I was just a kid. I guess I’ve learnt to live with it over the years.”