used to this. And I keep on hearing Sara screaming in my head
just jump her NOW!!!
and I can barely stop laughing. Emma took this to be solely her work, which I had no problem with right then. I leaned in a bit and watched Newcastle’s Ameobi backpedal with the ball, keeping it out of Sunderland’s reach.
Melanie, Neil’s girl, handed the plastic bottle back to Emma. Emma hurled it, cap-end -first, once again catching Trevor square in the head. Trevor finally spun around.
‘Look, it’s over and everyone is OK with…’
Trevor suddenly snapped back to the telly. ‘Go go go go go go – YES!!!’ he roared as Ameobi rocketed the ball past the Sunderland keeper. Everyone joined him in cheering Newcastle’s second goal of the game.
Neil, a lanky salesman for an electronics store, immediately sent a text to taunt his brother, a die-hard Sunderland fan. Bobby and his younger brother George punched each other while singing the long version of ‘The Blaydon Races’ with extra curses.
And as always, I just took it all in. This time though, I was in the middle of it, rather than sitting outside. Part of the action instead of just watching it and wondering why I wasn’t included. I thought back, through the better filter I now had since talking to my doctor, and realised that part of it wasn’t just people ignoring me or hating me. Some of it was how I reacted, or overreacted a lot of the time. People didn’t want to deal with the drama, with the way I’d get angry when things didn’t pan out right.
I mean, it wasn’t
all
my fault. But some of it was, and that was mostly down to the way I reacted to things. Looking back, even to stuff when I was young, I could see where I went wrong on some things. Some of it was damn stupid, too.
My phone rang. Trevor had it – he’d said he needed to call someone earlier, but it couldn’t be from his phone. Trevor held the phone out to me without looking at it, but pulled it away every time I grabbed for it. I managed to get it away from him after Emma slapped his hand.
Dad.
I had half a mind just to shut the phone off, or scream at him, but I remembered what I’d just been thinking about.
‘Excuse me,’ I said as I slid Emma off me and found a quiet hallway near the stairs. ‘Hello,’ I said calmly.
‘Andrew, where in God’s name are you?’
It was my dad alright, his voice going from Zero to Yelling in two point two seconds. I held the phone away, taking a moment to think of what to say next.
‘I’m OK, Dad. I’m out with friends.’
‘You really need to come home now.’ He lowered his yelling voice to ‘very concerned’, the one all parents use to trick their kids.
Or maybe he
was
concerned. Don’t assume he’s out to get you, I thought. I paused again before I spoke.
‘That’s not going to happen. I’m safe somewhere, and I’ll be home sometime soon. Tomorrow, during the day.’
‘Don’t you use that tone with me!’
I thought about it, pretty sure I didn’t use any ‘tone’. He was angry, and had a pretty good reason to be too, since I’d clocked him. I needed to head this off.
‘Dad, put Mum on.’
‘Your mum is very upset and in no condition to talk to you! You need to get home…’
‘Dad, either give the phone to Mum or I will be ending this call.’
Silence.
I continued, taking a breath first.
‘I’m willing to discuss all this another time,’ I said, being careful with the words, ‘but right now I need to be here, where I am. I’m safe at a friend’s place, and I’m going to be staying overnight. Now put Mum on and I will try to calm her down.’
Silence, then sobbing.
‘Mum?’
‘Andrew,’ a voice broke over the phone.
‘Mum,’ I said, ‘just letting you know I’m somewhere safe, OK?’
More crying. Just as bad as at William’s funeral, actually.
‘Mum,’ I said, ‘just breathe in deep a few times, and then we’ll talk, OK?’
The crying continued, followed by a few wheezing breaths. When I was
just jump her NOW!!!
and I can barely stop laughing. Emma took this to be solely her work, which I had no problem with right then. I leaned in a bit and watched Newcastle’s Ameobi backpedal with the ball, keeping it out of Sunderland’s reach.
Melanie, Neil’s girl, handed the plastic bottle back to Emma. Emma hurled it, cap-end -first, once again catching Trevor square in the head. Trevor finally spun around.
‘Look, it’s over and everyone is OK with…’
Trevor suddenly snapped back to the telly. ‘Go go go go go go – YES!!!’ he roared as Ameobi rocketed the ball past the Sunderland keeper. Everyone joined him in cheering Newcastle’s second goal of the game.
Neil, a lanky salesman for an electronics store, immediately sent a text to taunt his brother, a die-hard Sunderland fan. Bobby and his younger brother George punched each other while singing the long version of ‘The Blaydon Races’ with extra curses.
And as always, I just took it all in. This time though, I was in the middle of it, rather than sitting outside. Part of the action instead of just watching it and wondering why I wasn’t included. I thought back, through the better filter I now had since talking to my doctor, and realised that part of it wasn’t just people ignoring me or hating me. Some of it was how I reacted, or overreacted a lot of the time. People didn’t want to deal with the drama, with the way I’d get angry when things didn’t pan out right.
I mean, it wasn’t
all
my fault. But some of it was, and that was mostly down to the way I reacted to things. Looking back, even to stuff when I was young, I could see where I went wrong on some things. Some of it was damn stupid, too.
My phone rang. Trevor had it – he’d said he needed to call someone earlier, but it couldn’t be from his phone. Trevor held the phone out to me without looking at it, but pulled it away every time I grabbed for it. I managed to get it away from him after Emma slapped his hand.
Dad.
I had half a mind just to shut the phone off, or scream at him, but I remembered what I’d just been thinking about.
‘Excuse me,’ I said as I slid Emma off me and found a quiet hallway near the stairs. ‘Hello,’ I said calmly.
‘Andrew, where in God’s name are you?’
It was my dad alright, his voice going from Zero to Yelling in two point two seconds. I held the phone away, taking a moment to think of what to say next.
‘I’m OK, Dad. I’m out with friends.’
‘You really need to come home now.’ He lowered his yelling voice to ‘very concerned’, the one all parents use to trick their kids.
Or maybe he
was
concerned. Don’t assume he’s out to get you, I thought. I paused again before I spoke.
‘That’s not going to happen. I’m safe somewhere, and I’ll be home sometime soon. Tomorrow, during the day.’
‘Don’t you use that tone with me!’
I thought about it, pretty sure I didn’t use any ‘tone’. He was angry, and had a pretty good reason to be too, since I’d clocked him. I needed to head this off.
‘Dad, put Mum on.’
‘Your mum is very upset and in no condition to talk to you! You need to get home…’
‘Dad, either give the phone to Mum or I will be ending this call.’
Silence.
I continued, taking a breath first.
‘I’m willing to discuss all this another time,’ I said, being careful with the words, ‘but right now I need to be here, where I am. I’m safe at a friend’s place, and I’m going to be staying overnight. Now put Mum on and I will try to calm her down.’
Silence, then sobbing.
‘Mum?’
‘Andrew,’ a voice broke over the phone.
‘Mum,’ I said, ‘just letting you know I’m somewhere safe, OK?’
More crying. Just as bad as at William’s funeral, actually.
‘Mum,’ I said, ‘just breathe in deep a few times, and then we’ll talk, OK?’
The crying continued, followed by a few wheezing breaths. When I was
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