Page 98 of Tiny Fractures
“Because she wasn’t at that point,” I say against gritted teeth.
My mom narrows her eyes at me but doesn’t say anything else as she walks past my dad and into the living room.
“Don’t mind her. She’s a little grumpy today,” my dad whispers, chuckling.
I only shake my head. He has no fucking idea what goes on around here. I start up the stairs to finally take my stuff to my room, take a shower, and get ready for work.
“Ran,” my dad says, drawing my attention back to him, and I stop, backtracking a couple of steps. “I know I already said it on Friday—and I’m sorry. I know it made you uncomfortable.”
I know where he’s going with this. So I exhale deeply, waiting for him to just get it over with.
“You’re seventeen,” he says. “Cat is a beautiful girl; I obviously don’t expect you and your brother to be abstinent.”
I can tell he’s trying hard not to make this conversation awkward. “Are you seriously having ‘the talk’ with me right now?” I chuckle, making him laugh.
“I guess so.” He shrugs.
“Dad, I promise I’m safe. I’m pretty sure Steve is being safe, too. I mean, I haven’t, like, checked or anything, but seeing as Vada isn’t pregnant yet, I assume they’re taking precautions,” I say like a smartass.
My dad laughs. “Okay, I’m glad to hear that,” he says. “By the way, I had lunch with Seamus on Saturday.” Seamus is Shane’s dad, and he and my dad have been pretty close friends ever since Shane and I started playing hockey together.
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah, he said you and Shane are basically running Murphy’s at night now, that you both work all the time.”
“Yeah, I mean, Shane plans on taking over the restaurant, and he likes it when I close with him, so….” I give a small shrug.
“That’s what Seamus said. He was impressed by you, said something about giving you more responsibility once you’re up for it. I reminded him that you have another year of high school ahead of you,” my dad laughs. “He told me he asked you to come in last week so he could watch you work and thought you kicked ass.”
“Huh,” I say, finally comprehending why Shane’s dad had asked me to come in and work last Thursday when Shane wasn’t scheduled to work. I had really wanted to see Cat after she was gone for five days, but of course, I didn’t argue with Shane’s dad. He’s always been good to me, letting me work at Murphy’s when I got back to New York exactly two years ago, then quickly making me a waiter even though I’m technically still not old enough to serve alcohol, but recognizing that I could really use the extra money from the tips. He lets me close with Shane, even though I’m really not supposed to work this late. And he always allowed me to crash at Shane’s when—unbeknownst to his family—I desperately needed to escape my house for a night or two. I’ve spent many weekends and even holidays with Shane and his family, who’ve always treated me like one of their own; and there were many times when I wished I didn’t have to go back home at all.
And then, when I asked him last year if he would sell me his Mustang, he agreed without a second thought. I know for a fact that I got the car for a freaking bargain. I mean, it wasn’t in great shape, but it’s still a classic, and I’m pretty sure he could have sold it for a hell of a lot more money than he sold it to me for. At sixteen, I didn’t really have any money saved up—a few thousand, maybe—but I emptied my savings and then agreed to work two months for free, which, still, likely didn’t come close to what the car was worth even in its run-down state. But Shane’s dad still let me take it off his hands. Fuck, I still remember how excited I was. I spent a ton of time on my weekends fixing it up. I even dropped a couple of grand on a sweet satin-black paint job once I had scrounged up enough money.
“Anyways, I just thought I’d tell you that I’m proud of you. You’re doing great, Ran. Working so hard; and I saw your report card, too, so you’re obviously doing really well in school. I… just… good work.”
“Thanks, Dad,” I say, my voice a little unsteady. He’s not usually around long enough to notice these things, or, if he does, he never says anything. And my mom sure as fuck never has anything good to say, so this is unexpected, and honestly, a little uncomfortable. I don’t really know how to react, so I just stand there for a few seconds.
“Alright, bud, I have to head out.” My dad moves to the living room to grab his duffel bag off the floor before walking over to my mom to give her a quick hug and a kiss on her cheek.
“Have a good trip, Dad,” I say, already feeling the tension rise in my body again as I finally head up the stairs and into my room. I hear my dad leave just a few minutes later. I still have a couple of hours before I have to head to Murphy’s, and the prospect of spending this time in the house with only my mother is anything but calming.
I wish I could hole myself up in my room until it’s time for me to head to work, but Onyx is in the backyard—and likely has been there all damn day, maybe even all weekend while I was gone—and I really need to take her on a quick walk. So I take a shower, relishing the hot water against my skin, then get dressed in jeans and a white t-shirt and make my way back down the stairs and to the sliding glass door in the living room to get Onyx.
“Don’t think I don’t know what’s happening,” my mom says from the couch. There’s already an edge to her voice, and my shoulders slump. Why can’t we ever just go about our lives pretending the other doesn’t exist and just leave it at that?
“What do you mean?” I ask, and turn to face her.
“Your little girlfriend.” She stands up. “I don’t appreciate that you’re keeping secrets, Ronan, but it would certainly explain why you’ve been slacking so much,” she says sharply.
My eyebrows knit together. I know for a fact that I haven’t been slacking. The only thing that’s changed around here is that I’ve been working more hours while her list of chores for me keeps growing longer and longer.
“What? Cat’s got your tongue?” my mother says, and laughs about her own fucking joke.
“Very funny,” I mutter. God damn it, she’s getting a rise out of me, and I can’t stop myself. “I don’t think I’ve been slacking.” I’m becoming defensive, even though I know I need to just back off, need to shut up and take her fucking shit if I want even the slightest shot at getting out of here unharmed today, but I can already feel myself reacting to her.
“No? Then you’re not only stupid, but you’re apparently also blind, Ronan,” she says, her voice getting louder. “You’ve been breaking your curfew, you can’t manage to do the things I ask of you, and you have a shitty fucking attitude to boot. Don’t think I forgot the way you were talking to your dad on Friday when he told you to use protection when you’re fucking around.”
“I’m pretty sure you’re talking exactly the same way to me right now,” I say, adding fuel to the damn fire. I swear it’s like I have two versions of me sitting on my shoulders right now. One’s telling me to back the fuck off and the other is telling me to double down. And it’s obvious which one is winning right now.