Chapter 8

Marc faced his father again, in the same black hole as always. Nothing underneath, above, or around them aside from the blackness. The lack of sound was deafening, because Marc didn’t need words to know what was coming.

The longer they both stood there the more Marc’s stomach twisted with nerves and making him feel sick. Ariel entered into it then; on her knees and painting as she spilled the cup of paint water in front of Marc’s father again.

Marc forced his eyes open, waking up before he could see anything more. His ears were still buzzing slightly as he sat up and rubbed his face. He snuck into Ariel’s room in the small hours of the morning and watched her again.

He and Brendan were supposed to meet and talk later that day, and he was trying to tell himself that that was a good thing. But he’d been thinking over it for three days already and still wasn’t sure how he was supposed to say anything. At the same time, Brendan was intuitive enough that maybe Marc wouldn’t have to say everything.

As the sun started to come up and fill the room with the first morning light, he woke Ariel up. He went downstairs to start breakfast, this time expanding his horizons with pancakes.

He and Brendan still hadn’t really talked about where, yet. The Drunken Monkey would be nice, but Marc wasn’t sure he would want to be drinking or talk in a place where someone could overhear. Otherwise, the coffee shop was a possibility too, but that might be too crowded. Maybe he would let Brendan pick.

Marc drove Ariel to school, and saw Brendan locking up his bike outside. “Where did you want to go tonight?” Brendan asked.

Marc shrugged. “Somewhere we can talk.”

“You can just come over to my place if you want,” Brendan offered. “Blueberry will either keep to herself or be at work, or we can go lock ourselves up in a room.”

Marc agreed with that and took Ariel to sign her in for before care.

The entire day at work Marc was still trying to piece his mind together, to try and plan out what he wanted to say and talk about. Could he just go into it, or should he ease into what he wanted to say? He wasn’t sure he could do it that way, because then his mind usually stopped him.

He got most of his work done in more of an automatic motion than him actually paying attention to what he was doing. He left at the same time that he did every day, picking up Ariel from school and taking her home. Marc made sure there was something to throw together for dinner when Terri came over later.

Marc was then counting down the time until it was a little before five, and Terri’s mom dropped her off. Marc chatted briefly with her and promised he wouldn’t be home too late.

He drove to Brendan’s then and sat outside for a while before knocking on the door. Brendan answered almost instantly and invited him in.

Inside was small and slightly cramped, but it was cozy. Brendan’s roommate, Blueberry—because Marc couldn’t remember her actual name now—was sitting on the couch and watching TV. She waved briefly at him as Brendan led the way upstairs and into a bedroom.

There were clothes pushed along the walls, just enough for there to be open space on the floor between the door and the bed. There was a box of art supplies in one corner with a number of canvas’ leaning against it.

Brendan sat up on the bed, and Marc felt like he was in high school again, sitting on bedspreads and talking.

“What’s up?” Brendan asked.

Marc still wasn’t sure where to start, other than what Brendan already knew. “I keep thinking,” Marc started unsurely. “What it would have been like to be sent to a camp like that,” he muttered. “But then I wouldn’t have.” He hesitated again. “My dad never would have sent me there to have someone beat it out of me when he could done it himself.” He sat on the foot of Brendan’s bed and waited.

Brendan didn’t speak up at first. “What are you getting at?”

Marc gritted his teeth and made himself say it. “My dad was abusive.” It was the first time he’d actually admitted that to anyone. “And I really just thought that was part of life for a really long time—it was normal. And it never changed, it went on all through high school, and even when I came home from breaks at college—“ Marc stopped again, swallowing hard. “But I always just let it happen because he was my dad, and so I thought that made it okay. And I know now it’s not, and I don’t want him in my life, but…”

“Ariel will find plenty of people that love her, whether they’re family or not,” Brendan cut in. “Like I said at the pool, sometimes because he’s family isn’t a good enough excuse. Because if you don’t think it’s safe for her to be around your dad, then it’s not.”

“But how could I even tell him that?” Marc was afraid of the backlash.

“You call him, or whatever you’re comfortable with. Obviously if you think he’s going to try and hurt you for it, then don’t do it where he has the chance. You have the control of this now—you control whether or not he’s allowed to see Ariel, not him dropping in on my class,” Brendan snapped.

“I can’t really stop him from doing anything,” Marc pointed out dejectedly.

“Get law enforcement involved,” Brendan suggested firmly. “Have him barred from seeing her.”

“With what evidence?” Marc sighed. “It was years ago… most of it anyways. And then it’s just my word against his for it.”

“We’ll get it worked out,” Brendan promised. “Talk to the school for sure. Tell them he’s not allowed near Ariel, or on the school grounds, because you’re concerned for her safety. The school has to listen to that.”

Marc slumped further back, wedging himself up against the wall. “I don’t even sleep well,” he admitted quietly. “Whenever he calls the house, or whenever I see him. And since he showed up at Ariel’s school, it’s been nearly every day now… because he could just show up, I don’t know.”

“Talk to the school,” Brendan insisted again. “And…” he softened slightly. “I know you mentioned counseling for Ariel once, but have you ever considered it for yourself?”

“I don’t need that,” Marc protested. “They don’t actually do any good.”

“And who told you that? Your dad?” Brendan challenged him. “I went through counseling the entire time I was at university. I wouldn’t be myself today if it wasn’t for that. I would still feel ashamed of myself, and wouldn’t be willing to open up to others at all. They’re going to be a lot better at helping you through sorting everything out than anyone else.”

“Why can’t you just do it then, if you have so much experience?” Marc grumbled sourly.

Brendan chuckled. “Not the same thing, sorry. But, look. If you want, I can tag along for the first meeting or something, so that you’re more comfortable.”

Marc frowned and inspected Brendan carefully. “I don’t know the first thing about looking into that.” Aside from the fact that if his dad found out, Marc would be called weak, but in much cruder words.

“I’ll do some research,” Brendan promised. “But you have to cut your dad away from Ariel. No one is going to know better than you what he could do to her.”

Marc clenched his jaw again and shut his eyes. He’d like to think that maybe his dad had something against hitting girls, but if he thought it was disciplinary, he might not. Marc knew Ariel would have been hit for spilling anything on the carpet if he had been around. Marc couldn’t even make himself get angry at her for it then.

“You’re trying your best,” Brendan chimed in again, his voice soft. “If you have any doubts about yourself as a parent… that happens. But you’ve been trying your best to keep her safe, and that’s important.”

Marc cracked open his eyes again, slightly off-set by the desperate look on Brendan’s face. Even talking about his past with the camps, Brendan had kept a mostly straight face.

“She doesn’t even know. She’s going to think she did something wrong again,” Marc croaked. “Just when I was getting her to open up again after her mom leaving.”

“Ariel is a kid, but she has some level of understanding. You might have to sit her down and tell her that her grandfather isn’t allowed to be around her, and put it in basic terms of him being mean, or something like that. And when she’s older you can tell her more.”

“I could barely tell you,” Marc huffed. “Much less Ariel—having to explain it to her.”

“I’ll help,” Brendan said firmly. “You’re my friend, and fuck your dad—and fuck if he goes near Ariel again.”

They both jumped as there was a knock at the door. “Not right now, Blueberry!” Brendan snapped towards the door, and that’s when Marc realized how wound up Brendan was.

There was a muffled sorry as his roommate simply announced she was leaving for work. Brendan crawled off the bed, swearing as he cracked open his bedroom door and apologized. He shut the door again and paced back and forth a few times. “Fuck,” he hissed, running his fingers back through his hair. “It’s like I can’t ever get away from shit like this.”

“Sorry for bringing this up to you,” Marc muttered.

Brendan turned quickly. “That’s not what I meant,” he said quickly. “It’s just frustrating knowing that people go through this. It’s like it never really ends.” He smiled tightly. “Like if I met your dad, he’d probably beat the shit out of me too.”

His hands were shaking as he went through the top drawer of his dresser, pulling out a partially crushed pack of cigarettes and a lighter. “Don’t tell Blueberry or she’ll kill me,” Brendan warned, pulling out a stick and hanging it between his lips as he lit it. He took a long drag and exhaled towards the window, before realizing it was closed.

He swore and pushed open the window, aiming the smoke towards it every once and a while. He sat along the windowsill, with his knees pulled up so that he could have his feet up. “Even though I got picked on in high school, I liked it,” Brendan said, off topic. “Because it still wasn’t home. Home was a trap, but I could leave school. School still had a few friends that I could talk to. And when school was over, well, it was summer camps.” He shrugged stiffly.

“School was away from him, too,” Marc agreed. “You were probably a little more brave than I was. If I got in trouble, and he heard about it, then it was even worse than whatever the school might do.”

Brendon nodded, still staring out of the window and smoking his cigarette. Marc was curious about hearing more from Brendan, but he didn’t want to ask.

Brendan finished his cigarette and had seemed to calm down then. He put the rest of the pack into its hiding place with the lighter and sat back on the bed with a long sigh. “Well look at it this way,” Brendan began. “We can be fucked up together.” He laughed slightly, and Marc snorted as he forced a meager laugh too.