I’m such a failure in everything. As a son, a boyfriend and a father. Its nine at night and my nerves are so frayed; I feel that any moment I will pass out from that alone. I have almost vomited twice. I don’t tell anyone, though. I know it is more than deserved. My suffering is always my fault. Even when I was small. The bad seed inside. I feel it, even now.
Boxes are piled in the hallway; each room meticulously cleared of my merge belongings, and then cleaned with water and detergent. The only room with anything left is Will’s. The cupboard stands there like a monster in the room. Its awful contents ready once more to cause me pain that I don’t deserve to let go.
My father’s words tick over in my mind, like a tape stuck on repeat, and I can't make them stop. So many times I think of what I should have said, expressions of what I feel inside from so many things. Unspoken tears that I wish I could give him, but I know I’ll never say them. He went on holiday. He went on holiday and he didn’t say. My daughter died and he went on holiday. He made me choose, between him and Alan, or he would go away. He always goes away. He always did. Leaving me alone, bleeding in the dark. Listening to the sounds of him and my brother having fun. I don’t understand what I did to make it this way. I try to put things into some kind of order that I can understand, but my thoughts cloud over and my mind tries to float away to somewhere better. I can't think of anything except that he went away on holiday. I can't push away the heated knot that contracts inside my stomach every time I think about it.
As I stare around the flat, some part of me feels like nothing more than a hypocrite. Am I not doing the same as him? The same as what he and my mother did years before to me. Packing up behind his back and leaving without telling him. I doubt very much that he will sit outside crying, waiting for me to come back. Perhaps he’ll actually be happy. I have a note written to him. It doesn’t say much. Just that I am sorry. I didn’t add a forwarding address.
We aren’t moving very far. It’s just a ten-minute walk away, around the corner from my Nan’s house actually. But it’s a bigger place, there’s room for Will to play. Alan helped me to find it. I didn’t ask him to, but he offered and then he paid the bond for me as well. I tried to swallow down the guilt of him helping me. The voice in my head, ever-present and always reminding me of my lack of worth. I know I am not good enough.
Perhaps the voice is right.
I stand in Will’s bedroom, in front of the last cupboard. Her cupboard. I’ve been avoiding it. Filled with all the things we’ll never need. Nappies, clothes she’ll never get to wear, toys she’ll never get to play with. I don’t have the strength to open it and see all the stuff in there, a reminder of more failure. I don’t cry. I don’t deserve to. I left her there in the cold, dark ground, all alone. What if she cries?
Nathan comes to the doorway and breaks me from my thoughts. I feel like my mind is being dragged through mud. He offers me a cigarette that he has already lit. “Smoke?” he asks.
“Thank you,” I say to him.
“Everything is packed from the kitchen apart from a couple of things in the fridge.” Nathan had been wrapping plates in paper for me. He’s a good friend, another thing I don’t deserve.
“Are there any boxes left?”
He nods and vanishes for a second, then comes back with an empty crisps box. I open the cupboard and don’t look. I just reach in and take everything out, packing it into the box and not thinking about what it all means. Nathan pulls a roll of sellotape from his back pocket and we seal the box. It’s gone with the others in less than a minute.
“Better?” he asks like he knows. He always knows. I just nod and smile at him. The words are there in my mouth to say to him. I think I am going to, but then we both hear footsteps on the wooden stairs outside of my flat. We look at each other, Nathan’s eyes going as wide with shock as I feel. Then we look to the wall, as if somehow we would be able to see through it and see that it isn’t my father. Please don’t let it be my father.
I can't even breathe. My breath catches in my throat and the world feels like it presses against my temples. The room sways a little. Even Nathan has stopped and is standing completely still. Someone tries the handle to the flat door, but it is locked. I wait for the sound of my father’s keys being freed from his jeans before he unlocks my door, but the sound never comes. Instead, a voice shouts my name and I laugh.
“Oh my god,” I say as I press my hand to my chest to steady my heartbeat. My body relaxes as my brain registers Alan’s voice.
Nathan laughs too. “Crapped yourself,” he says to me.
“You too,” I reply. He reaches for my hand as I walk past him. I stop for just a second. I am glad he is there. Then I go and unlock the door and let Alan in.
“All ready?” he asks as he walks in and takes a look around the place. “I borrowed my brother-in-law’s mini-van.”
“Yes,” I say and even I can hear the nerves in my voice. I just want to get out and away from here. Once it is done, I don’t have to worry about my dad coming and catching me moving out. I’m sure he will, any moment. It feels like just one exhale and he will be here.
It doesn’t take long to fill the van up with boxes. It is going to take a few trips perhaps. Luckily, we don’t have anything big to move, except for Will’s cot. Will and Shelly are at the new place already. She wanted to get things cleaned up and ready. She took Will so that he could play instead of getting in the way of all the packing. Nathan goes with Alan to unload the van at the other end. I don’t want to leave Nathan at this flat in case my dad comes. But I don’t want to be by myself either.
They drive off and I go back inside. I am supposed to carry boxes down the stairs and pile them up ready for loading. But I just go upstairs, light another cigarette and hug myself tight for a moment. I can't make my mind focus. Guilt gnaws at the edges of my thoughts; I am so terrible with what I am doing. I shouldn’t do this to my father. Just leave and not say.
It actually only takes three trips to get all the stuff to the new place. I don’t have much. We needed a bed and sofa and a cooker and a fridge. Alan managed to get them for us, out of the items for sale in the paper. They are second hand, but it is better than nothing. I can't get rid of the unease inside as I take one last look around the flat. Alan is waiting in the van for me. But I feel like something is missing. Maybe I forgot something.
“It’s all empty,” I say to myself. “Stop it.”
I make myself turn out the lights and then lock the door and go downstairs. I walk fast and try not to think as I go out of the front door one last time and close it behind me. The lock clicks into place and I pull the envelope with the note from my pocket. I slide the key from my key ring and drop it into the envelope before sealing it. I stare at the front door for a few seconds. I can do this. I have to. My hands shake. I make my breathing slow so that I can think.
“I’m sorry,” I say to no one. I push the envelope through the letter box and turn away as I hear it land at the bottom of the metal cage. Ready for my dad to find on Monday morning. When he’ll find out I just left. Again.
