Chapter 19 - Love You Too, Esty Mackie
17 year old Ash is overwhelmed after a conversation with his dad...
Welcome to my serialised romance novel Love You Too, Esty Mackie. If you’re new here, you might want to skip back to the start.
Previously: Neil shows his cards at a house viewing, and Esther's worlds collide.
Ash (17)
Esty asks if the reason we don’t hang out at her place very much is because I’m scared of her dad after the whole Brighton incident.
‘I ain’t scared of him,’ I scoff, all bravado and lies on the bus back to mine. ‘Mum likes someone at home when she’s at work… for Tyler mainly.’
‘But, Tyler’s never there,’ she says. ‘And also, he’s fifteen.’
‘Yeah, but, I don’t know if you know this, but he’s a fucking idiot.’
The woman sitting in front of us turns her head and tuts. ‘What?’ I ask her. She looks away.
‘Ash! Stop,’ Esty laughs. She grabs my hand. ‘Is it actually because we get the house to ourselves?’
‘Couldn’t possibly say,’ I tell her and I kiss the top of her head as she leans on my shoulder and runs her finger along the seam of my jeans. ‘But that said,’ I continue, in a stage whisper, ‘I can think of worse ways to spend a Saturday afternoon. Mum’s working til late, and Tyler’s fucked off out for the day anyway.’
The woman turns around again, and this time she catches my eye. ‘Can I help you?’ I ask.
‘There’s no need for that language,’ she mutters. ‘It’s very telling of how you’ve been brought up.’
‘What was that?’ I fire back. She makes a big point of looking away again but I can see her watching me through the reflection in the window.
‘Ash, leave it,’ Esty says. She leans forward and presses the button for our stop, and we shimmy out of our seats as the bus slows down.
‘You don’t know shit about how I’ve been brought up,’ I say, looking back as we step off. She stares at us as the bus peels away, her faced pinched in disapproval. Esty zips up her jacket and adjusts her beanie, pulling strands of hair down around her face.
‘Come on,’ She links our hands. ‘Let’s go, forget it. Horrible woman.’
All the way home I do try to forget it. What does some dried up, dusty old bitch on the bus know anyway? But it’s rattled me; More than anything I hate it when people make assumptions about my upbringing, because they have no idea how much mum’s struggled, and by the time we get in there’s a whole atmosphere.
Esty flicks on the kettle to make tea.
‘PS2?’ she asks.
‘Yeah, fine, whatever,’ I say, ungraciously. She blinks.
‘We don’t have to. We can do something else,’ she says, but I shake my head and follow her up to my room. She kicks off her shoes and climbs on to my bed. Switches on the console and passes me a controller.
We’re on our third game of Mario Kart when the phone rings and I make no moves to answer it.
‘Do you need to get that?’ she asks, pausing the game.
‘Nah,’ I say. ‘Probably a call centre.’
It rings off, but starts again almost immediately. She glances over and I stamp back downstairs, ready to hang up if it feels like a scam, but what I’m completely unprepared for is for it to be my dad.
‘Ashley,’ he says, and instantly my back is up. ‘Is your mum there?’
‘What do you want?’ I snap.
‘There are a few things I need to discuss with her. Can you put her on?’
It’s been like this since he left. He’s never friendly, never fatherly. Not like a dad talking to his son at all. Frustration and anger and sadness churn up my stomach.
‘No one here is interested in discussing anything with you,’ I say. Dad breathes out, heavily, down the line.
‘I don’t think that’s your call to make,’ he says, and there’s an edge to his voice.
‘Well, I don’t give a fuck what you think, and you don’t get to say shit about it anymore.’
And now there’s an edge to mine.
There’s a creak from upstairs; Esty’s standing on the top step, hanging onto the bannister, watching. Her eyes are round and worried. And I point to the phone and make a wank gesture with my hand and roll my eyes.
‘Not a good attitude,’ Dad continues, brusquely. ‘I don’t expect you to understand, but I would like you to put her on the line.’
‘Yeah, well, I’d like for you to get back in your little plane and fucking fly off somewhere.’
‘Ashley–’ he begins, but I’m done with his shit. We’re all done with his shit.
‘Nah, fuck off,’ I spit into the handset, and I jab at the buttons to end the call, yank the phone jack out of the wall and kick the lounge door.
And then Esty’s there with me, and if I thought her eyes were round before, they’re like dinner plates now.
‘Are you okay?’ she asks.
‘I hate that prick,’ I tell her.
‘Your dad?’
‘Yes, Esty. My dad.’
‘What happened?’
She pushes the lounge door open and I pace the room, moving from the TV in one corner to the stereo in the other, and back again, over and over.
‘Remember I told you we used to live near you? Well, he’s a pilot. Flies big fuck off aircraft. 747s, proper long haul stuff, so he was away a lot. And it turned out he had a side piece in the cabin crew, because of course he did, the fucking cliché.’
My hands are clenched now thinking about it. ‘He did my mum really dirty. Called from Singapore, and said he’d be back to collect his stuff, but then he was moving in with her.’
‘Oh no,’ Esty says, her hand over her mouth. ‘That’s horrendous.’
‘He did it as well. Turns out it had been going on for years. They sold the house and we moved here, and it’s not the same at all, but obviously I can’t say anything to Mum. Our old house had so much more space. We used to go on holidays. She never worried about stuff. She was happier, and now she has two jobs and he doesn’t even reliably give her money for us anymore.’
I sit down on the sofa and I’m so pissed off and overwhelmed at how Dad wrecked everything and at what the stupid old bitch on the bus said that I grab a fistful of my hair and pull at it. ‘Not like he can’t afford it. You ever see a skint 747 pilot?’
There’s a ball of rage in my stomach. The feeling does funny things to my vision. Esty sits down next to me, and she takes my hand, opening it, releasing my hair.
‘I’m so sorry that happened,’ she soothes. She pulls me towards her and I don’t resist because none of this has ever happened before. I’ve never let my guard down like this or even really talked about it with anyone. She knots our fingers together and moves her thumb over mine again and again and we sit in silence for what feels like ages, until my heartbeat slows and the rage melts away to calm.
‘Will you stay tonight?’ I ask, and my voice is croaky.
‘Of course I will’, she says, and she kisses my head. ‘Love you, Ash,’
‘Love you too, Esty Mackie,’ I say.