Sophie's Throughway (2 page)

Neither one of them listened to me as I pleaded for them to walk away from each other. Both were heightened with rage and an inbuilt desire to win no matter the consequence.

“You're a fucking dick, stay out of my way!” Brendon spat at his Dad. “Asshole.”

Despite being English, Brendon tended to talk, shout and spell in American due to the amount of time he spent on his computer. He was an IT genius and the world wide web and gaming was his life. He had adopted the huge table downstairs as his own and it sat with 3 flat screen monitors and a state of the art, self built, computer on top. Computing and life behind a screen was his world and the only thing that could be used as a threat against unacceptable behaviour.

Karl marched through the room into my study, which was located next to Brendon's Starship Enterprise get-up, and ripped out the router instantly killing the internet. No internet equals no games. No games equals MELTDOWN.

“There ya go, smart arse!”

“Give me that back now or I'll break EVERY fucking
thing that you own!” Brendon's eyes were black and his breathing was rapid and shallow. It didn't take a genius to see he was about to flip out.

“Don't you threaten me! Touch anything of mine and I will take everything you own and dump it at the tip.”

“Stop, please stop. STOP NOW!” I wailed, knowing it was futile but trying nonetheless.

Brendon flew at his Dad and pushed him hard in the chest. At 6'2” and 14 stone in weight, he was a big lad for his age and not easily controllable. Karl grabbed him in a head lock to stop him. They wrestled together around the room and crashed into my bookcase; my antique bookcase, full of lovely books, but what did they care? It teetered precariously on it's oak carved feet and the glass doors flung open, spewing books onto the floor. The doors slammed shut as they bounced into it again causing one to shatter. Splinters of glass lay shiny and menacing on the carpet as though mocking their fractured relationship. I ran forward and tried to prize them apart, screaming and begging them to stop. Framed pictures depicting natures calm, bounced from the walls as they danced their way round the room, their wooden frames and fronts splitting all over the floor.

“MUM!” I heard a shout in the hall from Bryony.

I rushed into the hallway to see my frightened little girl, crying and trembling.

“Make them stop, it's scaring me.”

“Put on your shoes and go outside to my car,” I spoke calmly. “I'll be there in a minute.”

I went back to the battlefront where the shouting and
cursing had increased. My room looked like it had been burgled. “WHY WON'T YOU STOP?” I pulled hard at Karl's t-shirt. “You're both scaring Bryony and me.” Tears pricked my eyes and my breath wedged in my throat. My efforts were fruitless. Once enraged there was nothing I could do. I didn't have the physical strength to part them and my pleas were like whispers in a gale.

“MUM, TELL HIM TO GET THE FUCK OFF ME!”

“Karl let him go, let him go right now!” I pushed at his shoulder. The sound of my son begging for his Mother's help was a powerful call.

“I'll let him go when he stops coming at me, when
he
learns to be respectful and knows his goddam place.” The words came out in a low growl as he pushed Brendon to the floor. I was at a loss and torn between helping my son, stopping a fight and rescuing my traumatised daughter outside in the car. I burst into tears of frustration and made the decision to leave. I went to my car, physically shaking and wiped my tears away with the sleeve of my jumper. I had to play this down in front of Bryony and look like I had at least
some
element of control.

I slipped into the drivers seat and reached over to hug her as she cried into my shoulder, her long, curly brown hair sticking to my jumper like ribbons of velcro.

“Why do they do this? Why won't Dad just walk away? I don't like it when they fight it really frightens me. It scares my friends when they come over.”

“I know. It's stupid,” I agreed rubbing her back, “don't
worry, it's part of what we have to deal with in this family. I will always look after you. They're just having a battle of control, it will sort itself out, it always does.” I smiled faintly, trying to believe my own words.

“Let's go get an ice cream!” I suggested to her blotchy, tear stained face. I saw a glimmer of safety return to her grey eyes as I started the car. All the way to the shop I was praying to God and other mystical beings that Brendon and Karl wouldn't kill or harm each other. I was praying and wishing so hard, it hurt me to breathe.

 

Chapter 3

I spent the majority of the evening sat on the carpet amongst shards of glass and splinters of wood, holding my boy who was crying like his heart had broken. It was like handling a gigantic toddler after a major strop who was now beaten with raw emotion. He refused to let me leave his side, clinging on to me like I was his only safety net and blocking any form of exit. He didn't want to talk, just cry.

Every now and then, when earlier events played through his mind, he would violently thump the chair at the side of him with such force, his knuckles bled.

“I HATE him, I want him to leave.” His words came out broken with the gruffness of strained vocal chords.

“Shhh.” I whispered, “this has to stop. You have got to learn how to speak to people, particularly adults. You can't just go at people when you feel like it.”

He pushed me away abruptly and began to sob violently into his hands. “Why are you on HIS side? What the fuck Mum?”

“I'm not on anyone's side. I don't agree with how either of you behaved.” I pulled him back to my arms.

Of course, he was my main priority and the one I wanted to protect but if I voiced that he would see it as a green light to kick off whenever he felt like it. My job was to help him fit into the social norm so he could be accepted and not pushed away by others. He
had
to find a way because the world was not going to change for him.

“I want the router back. Get it from him. He shouldn't just take stuff away. He's a bad parent and I hate him.”

“No, he's not. He loves you. I'll see what I can do about the router but no promises,” I soothed. “Go to bed, get some rest.”

“Get it back, I mean it.” He lifted himself from the carpet, his t shirt ripped from the brawl and raised, angry scratch marks down his arm. I winced at the sight of my child in this state.

As he lumped himself upstairs I went into the lounge where Karl was sitting watching the news. His face was tight and his stare was way beyond the physical being of the newsreader represented on TV. He was in another place and I knew he found it unbearable. God knows I did.

“We need to talk about this.” I sat on the edge of the sofa and clasped my hands in my lap waiting for him to reply.

“Not now, I'm really not in the mood.”

“Neither am I but we can't go on like this. I can't have you both fighting like that, its horrendous. It scares me and it scares Bryony; she was in tears.”

Silence.

“
Please
, you need to walk away from it and not react, I
know
it's hard but coming back at him just provokes the situation, not help it. You
are
the grown up remember.”

“Right now I couldn't give a flying fuck about who the adult is,” he spat. “He uses Aspergers as a fucking excuse and it's not. I want him out of this house. I cant live like this anymore. He goes or I do.”

Clearly now wasn't the right time. Neither one of them appeared to be rid of their ‘ego humungous'. But when was the right time?

“I get it. I know it's difficult not to react but what happened earlier isn't going to work. Your son hates you, he believes you hate him, he's got scratches on his arm…”

“Yeah where I was holding him by his shirt when he threw himself to the ground. I didn't hurt him Sophie,
is that what you think
? I just stopped him from pushing his weight around.”

“Whatever. It's still not right,” I continued, “and he wants the router back. You should have warned him before you just took it away. That's what we've been told to do. To give warnings. Three chances.”

“I don't
care
what we've been told to do by these psycho babbling, hippy-fied, do-gooders who have
no
comprehension of what we live with everyday. That child needs to get a grip and learn to respect the rules of this house or get out.”

He snatched the remote and killed the newsreader mid sentence. I waited like a berated child, wondering if he was still going to talk or not. He threw the TV control on the
sofa and without even looking at me, said, “I'm going to bed,” and left the room.

I felt depleted, angry and useless. I didn't cry very often but the sobs came involuntarily, like exorcised demons. I stayed, head in hands, until they finally abated.

***

On the day Karl left he stood on the threshold like a man torn in half. A man on the crossroads of choice; neither being a road he wished to travel down. Though tall and stocky he appeared as a weak and shattered resemblance of his former self. I didn't believe he would actually go but the fighting and the strain of our day to day life had triumphed over any shred of love that was left.

“I'll miss you and I'll always love you,” he whispered. As his eyes looked up from his bent head, they were filled with tears.

I gripped the Victorian radiator in the hallway, hoping that the heat burning through the enamel into my hand would somehow deaden the sickening pain that was threatening to engulf my entire being.

“I know.” I replied, “I know.”

 

Chapter 4

Nearly six weeks had passed by since Karl's departure and though it was hard to maintain my job and a structured, non deviating, Aspergers friendly regime at home, I'd managed to make it so far. Brendon had become more tyrannical than ever insisting that he was now ‘man of the house.' He played the role of despot a little too well and had taken to telling Bryony what she could and couldn't do.

I had found it difficult to sleep, what with the break up and the work load and my appearance was suffering. The heady days of waking up fresh faced and dewy eyed were a thing of the past: it was more like sallow skinned and bad hair day 24/7. I made the decision to have my long hair cut off into a short bob that just tucked neatly behind my ears and was easy to get done at 6.30 in the morning. I wasn't sure whether I had done this because it made life simpler or I was reinventing myself as a single woman,
trying
to be in charge of her life. The new look did not go down very well with Brendon. Aspergers and change do not walk down the same street.

“You look like a lesbian,” he said blank faced as he
looked at me, “I hate it and I don't want to look at you.” He walked off to his computer desk to avoid me.

“Really. That's nice.” I shouted after him. “And exactly what do lesbians look like?”

“Like that.” He turned and nodded in my direction without making eye contact.

“Well good for lesbians, for they are clearly the most beautiful and stylish women on the planet. I don't like the way you pigeon hole people Brendon, we have discussed this and it's wrong.” I followed him through to his computer station.

“Whatever fam.” He turned on his screens and began to load World Of Warcraft, League of Legends and Facebook simultaneously.

“How would you like it if someone said, ‘You look autistic or you must be like Rain Man?”

“What? Who's Rain Man?”

“Never mind. The point is that you're not and you are an individual. That's how you should treat everyone.” I pressed.

“Mother, I really don't care what people think of me, so can you please desist from nagging like a fishwife and leave me to my guild.” He sat down, put on his noise reduction headphones and began to type and Skype to his warrior friends.

I left him to go and make dinner and hoped that every time I said these things they were actually sinking in.

“Your hair looks lovely,” Bryony appeared in her ‘Girl Power' onesy. She was beautiful. Frighteningly so. Although
only fourteen she looked much older and stood at 5'7″ with a figure that belonged in glossy magazines.

“Thank you, angel.” I hugged her tight. I was mindful to give her as much attention as possible since Brendon demanded the majority of it. We cooked lasagne together and chatted about boys and homework and Justin Bieber. I was very careful to remain positive on this subject despite thinking he was a precious little diva.

I served the portions of lasagne and poured myself a well deserved glass of Rioja and spent the next three minutes removing every trace of mushroom from Brendon's food. He hated them passionately and if one was to be present on his plate, the whole dinner would have been ditched.

“Bren, your dinners ready,” shouted Bryony as she set the table with knives and forks.

Brendon was a world away. A virtual, sword wielding, spell making world away.

“What the fuck are you doing man? You noob, Tom! Focus Katarina…I'm going in…have you got ult?…” he was shouting directions to his team members through his mic. I sighed and wandered through to his room and tapped him on the shoulder.

“DINNER.”

He pulled his headphones to one side. “You'll have to bring it here I'm in an instance. Thanks Mommy, I love you, you're the best.” He returned to his virtual world and I brought his dinner to the Starship Enterprise. Some things weren't worth an argument.

Once we had eaten Bryony scurried away to snapchat her friends whilst I slumped on the sofa with my iPad and some background TV. I clicked on the word game app on my tablet. I'd been playing an online scrabble game for a good year whenever I got a spare minute. I loved it and it kept me focussed and distracted from my reality. I had a few friends on there and some random players that I'd played with for some time. They were a nice bunch, mostly from the States since I tended to play in the evening or when I couldn't sleep at night. I only had about five games so I decided to get another opponent as the others didn't seem to be in speedy, play mode. I pressed random play and a new game appeared.