Always and Forever (2 page)

When I was a little girl I used to get angry with my mum
because I was under the misconception that she was weak. I couldn’t understand
why she stayed with my father and why she let him treat her so badly. One day
gran explained to me that it took a great deal of courage to put up with what
my mum has over the years and I started to see things differently.

Gran embodies everything that my father dislikes in a
woman. She’s opinionated, strong, fearless and bold. Everything my own mother
isn’t.

“But she only volunteers in the charity store twice a week
and we only visit gran on a Saturday. I’m sure she won’t mind rearranging a few
things so she can come with us.”

“My mind is made up, Bethany. Your mother will stay at home
where she belongs and you and I will have a wonderful time in Edinburgh. We’re
going in eight weeks time.”

“And how long are we going for?” I ask nervously, praying
that it won’t be longer than a few days. I really don’t know if I’ll be able to
come if it’s much more than that.

“We’ll be staying for two weeks. An acquaintance of mine
recommended the caravan site to me. He regularly comes into the bookstore and
he’s previously mentioned that he takes his own family there occasionally. He
even brought in some photos of the caravan and the site we’ll be staying at.
The caravan is a static so it’s nice and big, more like a small apartment than
a caravan.”

I listen to him drone on and on about our impending
vacation and I start to physically sick as I start to contemplate what it will
be like to spend fourteen days alone with him. Sleeping in the same area as
him, I have no idea how I’m going to stand it.

 “Well, that’s wonderful; I’m really looking forward
to it, Dad.” I say cheerfully, hoping that I somehow managed to sound
convincing because wanting to go on this holiday couldn’t be further from the
truth.

He reaches out to touch me and it takes every single ounce
of my willpower to remain still and not flinch away from him.

“I knew you would be thrilled, Angel.”

We both look up as the kitchen door slides open and mum
pokes her head through timidly.

“I was just wondering if you’re ready for your dessert
now?” She asks hesitantly.

“Well, I finished my dinner ten minutes ago so what do you
think?” My father asks her contemptuously.

She hurries back into the kitchen and apologises profusely
for her carelessness when she returns with his dessert. It’s hard not to pity
her; I don’t understand why she lets him treat her this way. Regardless of the
circumstances it’s almost impossible to comprehend why a bully and a victim
play the roles that they do.

After a few more minutes more of torturous conversation
with him I decide I really need to make my excuses and go to bed.

“Dad, if it’s ok with you I’m going to head on up to bed.
I’m really tired.” I glance at the clock and see that it’s still only half past
nine, my father’s not usually home this early on a Friday night. For as long as
I can remember he’s made himself scarce on a Friday evening, leaving the house
around six and not returning until after twelve. I have no idea where he goes
but I’m thankful that I at least get one night away from him a week.

“That’s ok, Angel. I can see how exhausted you are. I’ll
ask Ted if he’ll loan me the photo’s he showed me, it’s really picturesque, I
know you’ll love it.”

“Alright then, goodnight.” I’ve only taken a few steps when
he stops me by wrapping his fingers around my wrist again.

“Where’s my goodnight kiss?”

The nausea I feel is overwhelming as I lean in towards him
and place a kiss on his cheek. His stubble scratches my skin and it feels like
shards of glass. I grimace but manage to rearrange my expression before he
notices anything is wrong.

I decide to say goodnight to my mum as well and make my way
into the kitchen. I find her at the kitchen sink, her hands immersed in the
water and I can tell that she’s already started on the washing up. I regularly
find her like this, just staring into space. I wonder what she’s thinking and
where her mind takes her. Is she daydreaming like me? Is she wishing that she
were somewhere else? Is she also hoping for an escape? I hate to interrupt her;
I don’t want to force her back to the bleak reality that is her life.

“Mum? I’m off to bed now so I just thought that I’d say
goodnight.” My voice causes her to startle, lately I’ve noticed that the
slightest noise makes her jump out of her skin.

“Ok, Bethany, goodnight.” She offers her cheek towards me
and I step forward so I can kiss her, only this time I don’t grimace.

I don’t like leaving her downstairs by herself with him but
I honestly can’t stomach another moment and that’s why I frequently make my
excuses and go to bed like this. I climb the stairs and pray that sleep will
soon come. I really don’t want to spend the next few hours tossing and turning
whilst tormenting myself about the imminent holiday I have no choice about. I
refuse to think about it, its several weeks away and a lot can happen in that
space of time. Maybe the vacation won’t even happen, maybe something will come
up and we won’t be able to go. I roll my eyes at my optimism knowing that
nothing so fortunate will happen.

I enter my bedroom after retrieving my iPod from the
bathroom where I left it. My bedroom is mundane and boring just like every
other aspect of my pathetic life. I’ve never been able to decide on my own
décor, every aspect of this house has been chosen by my father. I hate my
maroon coloured carpet and beige wallpaper. It’s dull, insignificant and
forgettable, just like me.

I climb into bed and stare up at my bedroom ceiling. I’m
wide awake and know that it will be a long time before I eventually fall
asleep. I sigh with frustration and switch on my bedside lamp, deciding to try
and read some more of ‘Wuthering Heights.’ He might just decide to ask me some
questions about it and I need to refresh my memory on what happens in the
novel. The copy I have is nearly falling apart, he let me borrow it from the
bookstore and I had no choice but to read it.

My father owns a bookstore not far from our house but it
only sells second hand books, not the latest bestsellers. That’s why we hardly
have any customers; I know this because ever since I left school four years ago
I’ve been expected to work there three days a week. That’s why Mondays,
Wednesdays and Thursdays are the days I have come to despise the most. They’re
the times when I’m alone in the store with him, trapped and coerced into
spending nine hours with him a day is too much to bear.

You’d think that this wouldn’t be so bad but believe me, it
is. He doesn’t pay me for a start; he expects me to work for him for nothing
but then refuses to allow me to get another job. Not that I have any idea what
I’d like to do, he’s never encouraged me to think about my career or what I
might be any good at. That would mean I’d have some freedom and that is his
worst nightmare.

I try to concentrate on my book but I just can’t get into
it. I keep listening out for the sound of his heavy footsteps on the stairs.
Sometimes he comes into my room to see that I’m sound asleep and to give me
another kiss goodnight. I know this because I’m always awake when he comes up
to bed; I pretend to be asleep so he’s not aware that I know he comes into my
room.

 I gradually become absorbed in my book when I start
to hear raised voices downstairs. Well, one raised voice, the other just sounds
frightened. I can’t make out what he’s saying but I recognise the anger in his
voice. I search for my iPod in the chest of drawers by my bed, hoping to try
and drown out some of the sound coming from the living room. I really can’t
bear to hear him shouting at her but I know that my intervention will do no
good; it will only make things worse for her.

In the end I decide I can’t stand it any longer, I need to
know what they’re arguing about. I quietly creep out of bed and slowly open my
bedroom door. His voice instantly increases in volume and anger. I creep along
the landing and concentrate on the conversation going on downstairs.

“Why would you have a problem with me taking Bethany on
holiday? She deserves a break and so do I. Do you know how excruciating it is
for us having to contend with you every single day? All you do is mope around
the house, somehow managing to get even the simplest of things wrong. Jesus,
you really are useless.” He snarls disdainfully.

I clench my teeth together, feeling the immense rage
towards my father build up inside of me.

 “I don’t have a problem with it, Arthur. I just
thought that it would have been nice for the three of us to go away somewhere.
We haven’t been away together since Bethany was young and if this place is as
lovely as you say is then I would really like to come along as well.”

I can hear the tension and the overwhelming fear in her
voice, she never confronts my father like this and I’m astounded by the fact
that she’s actually challenging a decision he’s made.

 “I’ve already decided, Ellen. Bethany and I will be
going away and you will stay here. Your mother will need you to be close by and
I’m surprised you’re even considering not going into the charity shop for two
weeks.”

For the last couple of years mum’s been volunteering in a
local charity store. She hasn’t worked since I was born, meaning that she’s been
stuck at home every single day for the past twenty years. She only managed to
acquire her voluntary position by begging my father for an ounce of freedom. He
still isn’t happy about it but he finally acquiesced and agreed for her to
donate two of her afternoons a week. Since mum’s been working in the charity
store her social life has blossomed and so has her confidence. She’s still
controlled by my father’s aggressive dominance but at least she has something.
I hope to God he doesn’t plan on taking it away from her right now.

“I suppose you’re right. I really shouldn’t leave mum on
her own and I appreciate the fact that you’re respect what helping out in the
charity shop means to me. I was being selfish, I’m sorry.”

“I should fucking hope so, your stupidity never ceases to
amaze me. Right, I’m going out. Ted invited me over to his and I’ll be spending
the rest of the night there. I won’t be home until late.”

I close my eyes upon hearing the vicious sound of his
cruelty.

“But it’s half past ten. Isn’t it a bit late to be going
out now? Won’t Ted’s wife mind you dropping by at this time?”

“I’m only going to say this one more time. I’m going out
and it has absolutely nothing to do with you. Just make sure you clean up the
bloody mess you’ve made in the kitchen before I get back. Let’s see if you can
get that right.” He yells.

I scurry back into my bedroom as I hear the living room
door open, I hold my breath and only release it when I hear the front door slam
shut downstairs. He’s gone. The silence that follows is oppressive and
heartbreaking. My instinct is screaming at me to go and comfort her but it’s
been so long since we shared anything with one another, I no longer know what
to say.

For the first time in a long while I don’t feel happy that
he’s left. I experience a deep rooted sadness knowing that he will return. He
always does.

 I climb back into bed and reach for my iPod. I scroll
through all of my music, searching for the perfect track to listen to. Music
has been my only escape for many years and besides gran it has been my oldest
and dearest friend. Music will never hurt you; it will never betray your trust.
You can go without it for years and yet when you return it’s like you never
left. Music will always be waiting; it will never let you down. I finally
decide on the Yiruma piece again, the one I listened to earlier in the
bath.  I must have listened to it over a thousand times and the beautiful
serenity of the composition still astounds me. How is anyone capable of writing
such an incredible piece of music?

He bought my iPod for me last Christmas. He knows how much
I love music so he knew what buying it would mean to me. The fact that it was a
present from my father took the excitement away from finally owning one. I
can’t deny the fact that I’d be lost without it but I always wish that it had
come from anyone but him, the only compensation is the knowledge that the music
I download onto my iPod is the only part of my life he has no say in.

I start to imagine an alternative lifestyle for myself. I
think about who I could be, where I would live and what I’d be doing. Maybe I’d
be at University or go to Art College. I fantasise about all of the
possibilities that would be in reach, if only I weren’t his daughter.

As my tears slowly start to fall I switch my bedroom lamp
off, preferring the darkness to the harsh and cruel reality of my prison. I
open my bedroom curtains wondering if there’s a full moon. I smile weakly when
I realise that it is and the brilliant ethereal light from it floods into my bedroom.