Page 23 of Stuck

He didn’t stir, so I said it again, this time giving his shoulder a little nudge. “Time to wake up.”

Nothing. I picked up the bottle that was lying on its side next to him and moved it aside. It didn’t have a label on it, so God only knew what had been in it. I covered his hands with mine. He was so cold.

“Dad, it’s Lizzy. Can you open your eyes for me?”

That got him; weakly, he returned my grip. “Lizzy?” Slowly, so slowly it looked like it was hurting him, he opened his eyes. For a split second, something that might have been relief or joy sparked in them—and then it was gone, replaced with grief and shame. He turned his head away. “Leave me alone.”

This was a game we’d played all too often, and I knew every move he’d try to make. Being told to go away wasn’t the painful bit—actually leaving him was—but I wouldn’t be doing that for a while yet. First, we had to get him to the emergency doctor’s appointment Kev had booked to get him checked over. Then we’d get him to his flat, where we’d clean him up and put him in some fresh clothes. I’d feed him—or try to. Then I’d probably have to give him a drink, because at this stage, it would be dangerous not to, and shop-bought liquor was considerably safer than whatever poison he’d found here. By that time, he’d almost certainly be clear-headed enough to kick me out in earnest, and I’d have no choice but to leave.

But I knew from experience that if I wanted his cooperation with any of it, I had to do it one excruciatingly small step at a time.

“Come on, Dad, let’s see if we can get you sitting up.”

Hours later, the day had progressed almost precisely as I’d predicted and had reached the inevitable conclusion: me, being viciously rejected.

“What’s that, are you blubbing, girl?” Dad ranted, spittle flying from his lips. “You’re pathetic. I don’t need your tears; they’re no use to me. You’re no use to me. Get out before I give you something to really cry about. Don’t think I won’t. You’re not too old for a hiding!”

If Kev hadn’t been holding him up by his collar, Dad would almost certainly have toppled himself over with the wild swinging of his arms as he boxed the air between us. I knew he didn’t mean it—he’d never laid a finger on any of us—but there was scarcely enough room to swing a cat in the tiny studio flat, and his spatial awareness was shot thanks to the unfocused drift of his eyes. I pressed myself against the wall to avoid being caught by a stray fist.

“I’m going,” I said, leaning sideways to pick up my jacket and bag from the small table. Much though I’d prefer to wait until he was calm and settled before leaving, I knew that staying longer would aggravate the situation. “I love you, Dad.”

“Get out!”

Kev forcibly shoved him onto the bed and held him there by his arms until he stopped struggling. “Get some sleep, Tom. I’ll speak to you tomorrow.”

A few seconds after we closed the door behind us, Dad let out a wail of despair that I felt louder than I heard.

Outside, we walked in silence towards the station. I had no idea whether this was the direction Kev needed to go in, but I was grateful for his company, so I didn’t question it. I paid very little attention to my surroundings until he nudged my elbow and pointed at a greasy spoon across the street.

“Buy you a cup of tea?”

The place looked gross, with garish fluorescent strip lighting and tacky plastic seating. But I didn’t want to be alone yet, so I nodded. “Okay, but let me pay. It’s the least I can do to thank you.”

“Whatever you need, kid.”

He let me buy him a slice of cake, too, then as soon as we sat down, he slid it across the table towards me and handed me his fork. He was that much of a darling.

“He doesn’t mean it,” he said as I ate. “He was just trying to get you to leave.”

“I know.”

“You did a good thing for him today. One more night away and he’d have forfeited the flat.”

I shovelled in another mouthful to bury the panic that threatened to spill out otherwise at that news. “I’m hoping one day I can get him a place with my own money. There’ll be less pressure on him if he doesn’t have to always be reporting to someone. It makes him feel more ashamed every time.”

Kev acknowledged it with a sad nod. “It’s a vicious cycle.”

“How did you break it?” I hoped he didn’t mind me asking, but I’d take any suggestions.

“I had people who didn’t give up on me. Which is why your dad is lucky to have you.” He sipped his tea, the cup looking ridiculously small in his huge paw of a hand. “It’s a lot of pressure, kid. Have you thought any more about asking your sisters for help?”

I shook my head. “They haven’t forgiven him yet. I don’t know if they ever will. Well, Kitty and Lydia might—they were younger when it all happened, so it affected them less—but they’re currently backpacking around Thailand, so…”

“Not much help.”

“Not much help,” I agreed.

Kev sat in silence while I ate, taking smaller and smaller forkfuls in an attempt to make the cake last.