Page 33 of Forgotten
That night, I don’t sleep.
I think about how wrong I am, how I could have tried a little harder to be what Mom and Daddy wanted. I hear them fight in their bedroom until late. I hear the thumping and stomping, and then, silence. I hope that Mom is not too bad, but then, I think about how she did not even try to defend me in front of Daddy. It makes me so angry I have to sink my nails in my palms until it stings. I don’t wish for Mom to be hurt, but I also don’t get up and check on her. I never do.
When the pain is not enough, I get up and walk to the upstairs bathroom, the one I share with my brothers. Martin and Edwin have left their dirty football kits on the floor and I stare at the shirts with disgust for a moment before I go sit to take a leak. I move to the sinkto wash my hands then and I try to chase the sounds of Daddy slapping Mom from my brain, but the noise is stuck there. No matter how much soap I use I cannot get my hands clean. Mom is whimpering, desperate but I still don’t check on her.
Everyone in the house is sleeping as I reach for the razors in the sink cabinet. Rolling up my sleeve, I stare at the scarred tissue still fresh.
One last time, only once more. So that it will be okay, so that I will be strong enough to stand up to Daddy andIwill stop him next time he raises his voice. Blooddisappears down the drain and my heartbeat slowsdown.
???
The next day, Daddy slams the door a little louder. Martin and Edwin know not to ask, but Erik flinches and he calls out to Mom, “Is Daddy angry?”
Mom doesn’t answer, simply looks up at me. Erik copies her, his confused stare pointed at me as if it’s my fault that I’m different, my fault I am not the son that Mom and Daddy have dreamed of having. I leave without asking permission; without even finishing my breakfast.
The moment I step outside into the rainy British morning, I can breathe again. I can feel the light drizzle on my skin as I walk down the street towards Ford’s house, aware that it’s too early and it’s the weekend and he might even not be there. I hope he is anyway.
Gregory Hale answers the door in his pyjama looking all dishevelled with empty eyes. When he realises it’s me, he runs a shaky hand through his messy hair. Immediately, I regret coming here, disturbing them in the morning.
“Ash. Good morning. Come in, Ford just woke up.”
Gregory Hale always smiles but this morning, he does not. He opens the gate and moves to the side to letme in the house, revealing a living-room that is in thesame state as he is. There is no music playing in thehouse.
“Sorry for-” I start, but Gregory Hale stops me.
“Hum, please forgive the mess. My wife, hum no, Lily, she is... I was meant to clean up last night but, you know. Lily is, hum.”
“Ash. Come up!” Ford calls from his bedroom upstairs and Gregory Hale looks relieved he doesn’t have to talk to me anymore. It makes me sick to my stomach, having come here when he clearly doesn’t want me to be. Gregory Hale has always wanted me here. There is always music playing in Ford’s house.
Gregory Hale tells me to go ahead and I run up the stairs, closing the door behind me as soon as I step into Ford’s room. The bed is neatly made. The books on the desk are organised in an orderly pile and the guitar is in its case. Ford is fully dressed, and I am confused. Didn’t his dad just say Ford has just gotten up?
I don’t have time to ask before Ford is handing me a controller to his brand new PlayStation. Daddy doesn’t want me to have a TV in my bedroom, but Ford isallowed one and is also allowed his own PlayStation. At home we have one, but the twins never let me play with them so I stopped asking; stopped being interested. But when I am with Ford I play often, because he likes to play and I like to make my friend happy.
“FIFA or NBA?” he asks me.
I hate both options but there is a sorrow in Ford’s eyes that I have never seen before. The corners of his lips are turned downwards and there is no sign of his dimples. I wonder why he’s up so early, what happened downstairs. I don’t ask.
I let Ford choose the game and he picks football first. We play Liverpool against Manchester United because it’s what we always play together. Although I try my best and I concentrate with everything I have, I lose three matches with zero goals before slamming my head with my hand. We’re sitting on Ford’s bed and I let out a whine as I fall back onto his pillows.
My misery makes Ford smile, but it’s gone as soon as it appears. The dimples don’t even have time to pop.
“Basketball?” I offer.
Ford gets up to change the game. The room is totally silent for a couple of seconds and I’m not sure what to do. Ford and I never spoke about my parents. I never told him I was nervous about coming out to them. Thinking about it, I never even came out to Ford properly.
There is so much unsaid between us that I don’t know where to begin. So I don’t. I simply reach for theremote and raise the volume when the game starts. “So we can hear it.” I explain.
There might be some walls between Ford and I, but the thickest wall of all is the one we raised around us both. It keeps the world out. Keeps us safe.
We play basketball then switch back to football. When our stomachs start to grumble, we pause the game. Together we make our way to the kitchen downstairs and share a bag of crisps and drink a can of coke each. The kitchen looks as messy as the living-room but Ford makes no comment and Gregory Hale is nowhere to be seen. Without the sound of the video games, the house is deadly silent and neither Ford nor I find the words to fill the silence.
When we make our way back upstairs, Ford sits on the carpet and I go back to his bed but without him, it feels empty. Without asking, Ford changes the game to wrestling. He lets me pick the strongest fighter but I still lose and I couldn’t care less.
It’s late in the afternoon when Gregory Hale knocks at Ford’s door. I have no idea where he has been all this time. When he sees me, he looks startled by my presence. “Should we order pizza for dinner? Ash, you love pizza right?”
I wait for Ford to reply first and when he nods, I nod too. Gregory Hale leaves without another word.
After hours of playing video games, it’s Ford who speaks first. The pizza is due to arrive soon and my eyes are hurting from staring at a screen for so long. “They’re getting a divorce,” Ford says matter-of-factly.
