Our Secret Moments (Drayton Hills Series)
Our Secret Moments: Chapter 38

I’VE ALWAYS KNOWN that coming back home would make me uncomfortable. It’s not been the same since mom passed away, and I don’t think it ever will be. Since Christmas, I’ve been avoiding it like the plague. I never wanted to go around there anyway, but confronting my dad like that was new. As much as he gets under my skin, I never raise my voice or get angry like that. It’s an unwritten rule, no matter how rocky our relationship can get.

Which is why I’m surprised he’s been trying to call me for the past week. Most conversations last a few minutes and he asks me how I am before interrupting me to tell me about how hard his job is. Maybe this is his pathetic attempt at trying to establish a relationship with me.

The call I got at the game earlier was different. There was an edge in his voice. Not the usual flare of annoyance that surrounds each of our conversations, but something deeper and angrier.

He told me to get to the house as soon as possible and I did. As much as I knew missing the last half of Connor’s game is going to break his heart, I’d never forgive myself if I did something without knowing and hurt my dad even more.

I’m trying to give him the benefit of the doubt.

He can irritate me and make me wonder what I’ve done wrong, but at the end of the day, he’s still my dad and I should listen to him. It’s the least I can do after the way I acted at Christmas.

I push open the door to the house, my hands shaking for a reason I can’t replace. Maybe it’s the anticipation of the moment, or the fact that my body knows that something isn’t right before my brain does.

The house smells of its usual spices, something that hasn’t changed since mom died, but something else lingers in the air as I step through the hallway. I call out for my dad, but he doesn’t answer. Instead I hear his voice soft but taunting in the dining room, another female voice talking with him.

I inch closer, trying to keep myself out of view.

JoJo.

She’s allowed home visits whenever she wants to, but she usually lets me know in advance so we can have the house to ourselves. I doubt she would want to have a conversation with my dad just on her own. Hell, even I don’t sometimes and I’m the one who is actually related to him.

He must have called me over to see her, or is this some sort of intervention?

“You can’t keep going on like this, Eric,” JoJo whispers. I can hear the soft sound of the small metal spoon I can imagine she’s using to mix her tea. “You two need to fix this. Is she on her way?”

“Yes, she’s on her way,” my dad mumbles, his voice hoarse. I step closer against the wall, trying my hardest to stay quiet. My gut churns at his next words. “This isn’t my problem to fix. Can’t you see that? I’ve always been busy and caught up with work. That has never changed, she has.”

I swallow, my stomach turning into pure acid. “Eric, come on, now. You know that’s not true. I just want the best for my grandbaby.”

He lets out a loud sigh, bordering on a groan. “No one has ever tried to look at my side of it. I lost my wife. The love of my life. And I’m left with a campaign to run and a daughter who looks at me like she hates me. What am I supposed to do with that, Joanne?”

I can see the temper rising on my dad just by listening to his voice. He’s never violent and would never do anything to hurt anyone, he’s just… passionate. Still, JoJo is not getting any better and she doesn’t need this kind of stress on her.

I decide to slowly move into the dining room, catching my dad with his hands pressed onto the table, JoJo at the head of the table, her silk head scarf wrapped around her hair and her hands shaking around her mug.

“Birdie, you’re here,” JoJo calls, her eyes bright. I smile tightly, turning to my dad. “We need to talk. All of us.”

“Yes, we do,” my dad bites out. This would all be great if he could chill the fuck out for two seconds. Instead, he grunts as he turns from the table when something catches his eye behind where JoJo is sitting.

In every Jamaican household, the dining room is usually dimly lit with a ton of random artwork my parents have acquired over the years. Some they get from markets and others they’ve passed down from their parents. We have a framed photo of the lyrics to the national anthem, a Bob Marley painting and my mom’s favourite piece.

It’s a woven sheet with the words ‘What you do here, what you see here, what you hear here, let it stay here, or don’t come back here.’ It used to freak me out as a kid before I realised that my parents only had it up there as a joke. I’d walk past it and laugh, thinking it was the weirdest thing I’ve ever seen inside a house. But for some reason, my dad’s awfully interested in it right now.

I move towards JoJo, placing my hand behind her chair as she turns to see what my dad’s doing. “Dad, what are you doing?”

“I’m moving it.”

“Don’t move it, Eric,” JoJo warns.

“If we’re moving on, if we’re going to have a grown up conversation, things need to change around here. Starting with this.” The edge of anger in his voice catches me off guard.

“That can stay where it is,” I whisper. He turns to me, his reddened eyes narrowed. “Moving that is not going to change what’s going on. We need to talk.”

“It’s not a big deal,” he says, looking between the two of us. JoJo stumbles, trying to get to her feet and I help her up. She holds onto the back of the chair, giving herself stability. She tries to talk, no doubt to tell my dad to stop, but no words come out.

“It is a big deal. Mom left that there. She didn’t move it, so it needs to stay where it is,” I demand, trying to get in his way, but JoJo’s soft hand rests on my forearm, urging me back. “Dad, just leave it. Please.”

He ignores me and leans up to take it down anyway. Like he said, it isn’t a big deal. But for some reason, it feels like it is. I always thought there was something unspoken between the two of us that whatever my mom left would stay the way it was. We wouldn’t move things because it is a part of her. But when he takes down the embroidery a piece of me shatters, another piece of her being stripped away from me. Before I can tell myself to calm down and stop, the tears rush to me, hot and angry.

“Why do you have to do these things?”

“Do what, Catherine?” My dad’s voice booms in the small room, making JoJo flinch from where she’s standing.

“Make things worse! You don’t talk to me for months, suddenly you want to fix things and you start by taking that down and you bring me here for… What? An intervention? To tell me to get over it whilst you can continue to ignore me?”

He scrubs his hands down his face. “We need to move on.”

“Move on?” I repeat incredulously, my hands flailing as more tears stream down my face. “We’ve barely had time to grieve, dad!”

“Catherine. Sit down,” JoJo warns, bringing both of her hands to her face. I try to blink back the tears, but it only makes it worse. My heart rattles in my chest, my hands shaking.

“I have, Catherine. I’m trying to move on, but you keep punishing me,” he shouts.

“Eric.”

“What are you talking about?” I ask, my hands doing most of the talking.

“We don’t work anymore because you’re pushing me away for your friends. If you stayed home, maybe this wouldn’t have gotten this bad, but you decided to leave. You left, Catherine. And you’re expecting me to carry the weight of our relationship when I have a serious and important job to do,” he argues. JoJo shakes her head, muttering a curse word as she holds both of her hands to her temples.

“We don’t work because you don’t try, dad. You never had. And now you’re finally realising that it’s never going to be the same, so you interrupt my day when I was busy just so you could shout at me,” I retort, trying to smooth my hands over my jersey.

Connor’s jersey.

He’s probably thinking I abandoned him. My chest squeezes at the thought and I’m crying harder for a whole other reason. I miss my person. I need my person.

My dad gestures to my shirt, only just realising that I’ve been wearing a Drayton Titan’s jersey with ‘Bailey’ on the back and Connor’s number on my sleeve. “See, you don’t get it. You don’t understand what it’s like to be in my position, Catherine. If you did, you would have been here instead of with that boyfriend of yours.”

“Eric. Stop it, now. You’re upsetting her.” JoJo manages to speak through a cough, but my dad doesn’t listen as he stalks closer to me, pushing past her.

I’m not going to let him make me feel guilty for spending time with the people who actually care about me. The people who treat me as a human and love me for me. The people who don’t expect anything from me and just let me exist.

“Connor has nothing to do with this,” I shout.

“He has everything to do with this! You’re forgetting who you real family are, Catherine, and your mother would be so disappointed if she knew you were-”

“Don’t you dare talk about how my daughter would feel about Catherine.” JoJo’s voice is weak, but it holds the weight of the world in her words. Tensions are running high and we all need to take a deep breath.

“What? It’s true. Family is supposed to be first, always. You know that, Joanne,” my dad says, his voice rising again.

“Jo, are you okay?” I ask, stepping beside my dad.

“She’s fine.” Just the sound of his voice makes me tense up.

“I don’t… I don’t think I’m feeling so good,” she murmurs, her eyelids closing. My heart thrashes against my chest as her hands clasp mine. They’re cold. Too cold. I look back to my dad, but he doesn’t say or do anything.

“JoJo,” I say softly, “Come on. You need to sit down. All this standing can’t be good for you.”

Before I can guide her to the chair, her knees buckle and she hits the ground.

I’ve always hated hospitals.

I mean, who enjoys going to a hospital? Exactly. No one.

When JoJo first got sick, I didn’t like going to visit her in the hospital. There was always something unsettling in the air. I hate the helplessness I feel when I’m here, knowing that all I can offer are words of encouragement. The second she was moved into a care home instead of a hospital, I made it my mission to see her more.

I was there for her when no one else was. I was there when my dad refused to let her live in our empty house. I was the one the nurse called when she was having trouble remembering or just needed to hear a familiar voice.

We got closer to the point where it felt like she could read my mind. She told me things about my mom I never thought I would replace out. She restored the faith and belief in me that I thought I’d never get back. She believed in me.

Now, as I sit alone next to her hospital bed whilst she’s hooked up to multiple machines, I try to use some of her constant strength to stay strong.

“This is exactly why I don’t do home visits.”

I lean up in my seat, a sigh leaving me when JoJo leans her head on her pillow, her eyes slowly opening. I knew the doctors said it wasn’t anything major, but the fact that she’s here made me panic like crazy. My dad, on the other hand, is seeing this as an inconvenience as always. Such a hypocrite.

“JoJo,” I whisper softly. “How are you feeling?”

She shakes her head. Shit. Do I need to call a doctor, or something? I stand to my feet immediately, but her hand reaches out, trying to reach me, but it lands back onto the sheets. I sit back down, scooting my chair closer to her bed.

“Where is your dad?” she croaks, staring up at me.

“He’s down the hall. He said he was getting coffee,” I reply.

She hums, swallowing. “Listen to me, songbird,” she instructs. Immediately, I’m focused on her, knowing that she’s got something important to say. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up. “What’s going on with your dad needs to be fixed. I know it’s not your fault, and I know it’s not completely your problem to fix, but you’re both too stubborn to admit that you need each other. You both lost a lot that day, and you’re comparing your hurt, not helping each other. I know it feels like a piece of him died along with your mom, but it doesn’t mean you don’t get to love the part of him that’s still here. And when something happens to me and I’m not here anymore–”

I cut her off immediately, my chest pinching. “Nothing is going to happen to you.”

She lets out a weak laugh. “I’m not going to be here forever, Catherine. I just want to go knowing you two have each other’s back, because that’s all I need. I need to know that my songbird is okay.” My eyes twitch at her words, tears fighting their hardest not to fall. “It shouldn’t take me collapsing in the kitchen for you two to realise that you both need each other. He needs you too.”

When her words settle on me, I know I have to do better to establish a better relationship with him. As hard as it’s going to be, and as frustrating it will be at times, I know for certain now that I need my real family too, not just my chosen one. And when my dad walks back in the room with two coffees and a hot chocolate for me, I know that we can’t keep going on like this.