Scribbled Thoughts

It’s Jake

An empty sleeve was all his mother saw. The boy held his breath as he lifted the loose floorboard, placing it on the bathroom floor. He strained his ears and heard the groans of a man and woman from his mother’s bedroom. He reached into the opening, using his thumb and forefinger to peel back the old stained cloth. His expression didn’t change at the sight of the revealed coins.

            “Jake.” The voice was soft now, content. The boy, Jake, scrambled out from the bathroom and met his glowing mother. “Today’s been a good day.”

            Jake smiled as she reached her hands out, allowing him to give a half-hug. Today was a good day.

The door slammed against the wall. George cursed and sat up.

            “I heard you were fired a week ago. Fired! If you can’t pay the rent you’re out of here!”

            George stared at the man, noting the red face was turning purple.

            “Those bastards said I wasn’t needed anymore. I’ll get another job.”

            “How? The only work you’ll find is relief work, if you’re lucky.”

            “I’ll get the money alright!”

            “Make it soon or you’ll be out by the end of the week!” The door slammed shut, the photo on the bedside table landed face down. George stared at the door, cursing under his breath before picking up the fallen photo.

            It showed a man around twenty five with dark blonde hair. His brown eyes were shining with happiness as he held a woman close, hands wrapped around her waist. His face was squared and serious, but possessed a manipulative smirk. The woman was a whole head shorter than him, her short black hair attempting to hide her face. In her arms was a sleeping baby.

            “I bet you’re laughing at me now, right bitch?” His hand ran through his now long hair. He tied it back into a messy ponytail. “There’s no way I’m going to become a charity case.”

George looked straight ahead as he walked, blocking the image of the broken men around him. Some were lucky and had a sleeping bag, the rest were slumped against a wall and huddled by a fire started in a waste bin. The dirt from the ground stained their clothes. He directed his gaze upwards to avoid the pleading eyes, noting the broken windows of the buildings.

            “In just a few years New York has become this dump.” George said to himself. He stopped when he saw the blockade of people in the way. He glared at them, following the line’s direction with his eyes to the small entrance of a soup kitchen. Just a few more steps and he would join the line.

            “What a poor little thing.” The whiny voice made wince but he looked anyway. “He must have lost it in the war.” A high class woman had stopped in front of a child while her husband sighed. The child was pathetic. His clothes were ripped and hanging from his thin frame, his face smudged with dirt that highlighted his paleness underneath. His state was unfortunate, but common. That hadn’t been what made the woman pick him out. This child was incomplete, one sleeve hanging at his side with no purpose.

            “Dear he’s a child; he wouldn’t have been born until after the war.” The man beside her insisted. His wife ignored him and knelt down on the floor.

            “It must be tough, poor little thing. Look after yourself now.” With her good deed done the woman could continue following her husband, ignoring the other people.

            George narrowed his eyes at they boy who held the coin close to his chest.            The kid’s right hand was fast to deposit the money in his pocket before moving to the soup line. George took the three steps that brought him behind the kid.

            “You by yourself kid?” George asked. “It’s dangerous to be here without your parents.”

            The boy turned and blinked at him. The stare irritated George.

            “It’s jake.” He finally said, turning back around. George frowned.

            “Aren’t you too young to know that old phrase? No one’s said it in years.”

            “It’s who I am.”

            No matter what George said, the brat, Jake, gave meaningless answers. George gazed off down the street, his feet longing to just leave the line. It was a long wait before they made it to the front of the queue.

            “Oh hello there!” The woman behind the counter gushed. “What a poor little thing. Is he yours?”

            George glanced between Jake and the woman. She thought they were related? They looked nothing alike.

            “Yeah.” George said, placing an arm on Jake’s shoulder. The boy winced. “I wish he wasn’t so skinny though. My wife is sick you see and I have to take care of them both. I don’t want to lose them.”

            “Well you hang in there!” She handed over a bowl of soup to each of them. “I’m sure your wife will pull through.” She winked, handing him another bowl.

            Back on the street George talked as the kid sipped his soup.

            “That was a decent con we just pulled. I bet you’ve never been given this much before, right?”

            “…No.”

            “Then how about we keep it up? I’ll queue with you and let you keep the extra food, and in return you pay me half the money you get from begging. How’s that sound, kid?”

            “Pay you?”

            “Yeah. You can get to feed your parents this way. There’s no way you’ll get enough food if you queue alone.”

            “But why would you do this?”

George clenched his teeth at the question. “Because I need money moron! Why do you think?” Jake flinched but did nothing more.

            “Okay. But we can’t talk about it. If we don’t talk about it, it never happens.”

            George didn’t even bother to try to understand; he just smirked and finished his soup. 

“How did you get this much?” His mother asked. Jake just smiled.

            “We can’t talk about it.”

            “What? Jake, has some man been bothering you? Don’t let anyone bother you, not unless…” She stopped, her hand going to her stomach.

            “We can’t talk about that either.”

            “…Let’s just eat.”

            The sound of the front door opening drew his mother’s attention. Jake gazed off in the direction of the bathroom.

            “Thomas! I didn’t realise you wanted me tonight.” The man had a grin on his face, his hair a chestnut brown and his eyes a piercing grey.

            “Well I made some money and couldn’t resist.” Thomas said, his hands already touching her body. “I’ll even pay you extra.”

            Jake stood and moved towards the bathroom.

            “Jake? Are you still sleeping in there? I wish you wouldn’t. It can’t be…” Her words were drowned in a kiss. Jake closed the bathroom door. He slept there because he didn’t want to stay in the living room. He’d see the visitors as they entered his mother’s room.

            He fell asleep in the tub only to be awakened by rough hands.

            “What?”         

“Quiet kid. It’s all jake remember? So be a good boy and do as you’re told.” His hands hurt; his grip too tight to break from. Jake screamed, but no one stopped it. She never would.

 At breakfast his mother wouldn’t meet his gaze. The porridge felt too heavy to swallow.

“It doesn’t happen if we don’t talk about it.” He repeated to himself. His mother turned away.

George scrunched up the newspaper page.

            “Where the hell is he? Damn kid.” In the month they had been working together the kid was never late.

            “Are you George?” The man looked to be in his late twenties, his eyes a cold grey.

            “Who the hell are you?” The man shoved a boy in front of him, Jake. His face was bruised and his body trembling. “What happened?”

            “I’m a regular customer of his mothers. I noticed the kid’s been defiant lately. He told me about how you help him get extra food from the soup kitchen.”

            “You beat up a kid?” George stood up and stared down at him.

            “Please stop, Thomas.” Jake sobbed.

            “I don’t like how you’ve been influencing this kid. He’s becoming a real pain when I visit. I’ll give you this one warning to stay away from him.”

            “It’s none of your business what we’re doing. You’re not the kid’s father.”

            “Neither are you.”

            “Stop!” Jake shouted. Thomas’ punch knocked George to the dirt ground. A series of kicks to his stomach followed preventing him from standing to retaliate. He took in a breath and began coughing, choking. “Stop it!”

            “What’s going on?” A crowd was forming. George looked up and groaned, pressing his face into the dirt. The kicks ceased.

            “Come on brat, we’re leaving.” Thomas said, pushing through the crowd. “Now!”

            George felt a small hand wrap around him. He winced and said nothing.

          “I won’t tell you again kid. You know how your mother feels about you defying me.” Thomas said. “I care about your mother and she wants this family to work. Don’t disappoint her.”

            “I can’t pretend it doesn’t happen.” Jake said into George’s shirt. “I can’t.”

            “Damn brat. You better not come back then. Your mum belongs to me.”

“I’m sorry.” Jake said, sitting on the apartment floor. He looked around him at George’s home. The paint wall was faded and cracked. He saw only a bed, a couch, some drawers and a bedside table with a photo on it.

            “Stop saying that already, you’re acting as if I died.” Jake bowed his head. “Stop sitting on the floor and get up.”

            Jake stood and sat gently on the edge of the bed George lay on.

            “Then it’s jake?”

            “Like hell it is! You never told me your mother was a whore! And who is that guy? Your dad?”

            “Dad left a long time ago. He told mum he couldn’t look after her and a child.” He paused a moment and took a deep breath. “That man was Thomas. He does things with my mum, and then he wants to do things to me. I don’t like it but he says it’s jake. Mum thinks if we don’t talk about it then it doesn’t happen. She’ll never talk about it with me.”

            “…My God. Why not?”

            “She’s getting fat. She started getting fat when only Thomas came to visit.”

            “Looking for a way out of her lifestyle then. Even so it’s sick.”

            “I think she loves him. Thomas loves her too; he just needs something more with that.” Jake said. He looked towards the bedside table. He lifted the photo and brought it close to his face.

            “Is this your family?”

            “Not anymore.”

            Jake stood and placed the photo back.

            “You’re going back? That guy will never change.”

            “I have money.” Jake said.

            “What?”

            “I’ve been saving for a long time. I’ll give it all to you if you visit her next Friday. Thomas never comes on a Friday.”

            “What the hell? Why should I?”

            Jake wouldn’t answer.

Thomas sat at the table and smirked as he ate. Jake avoided his gaze.

            “I think the kid understands now. It’s been a week since he’s seen that man. It’s all jake now.”

            “That’s good.” His mother answered, hand on her stomach.

            “Well I better be going. I’m working all day this time.”

            The door closed and his mother turned to him. She reached her arms out. He hesitated but stepped into the hug.

            Jake made sure he was in the bathroom when his mother answered the door for George. He held the heavy cloth close to his chest as he listened to them talk a moment. He frowned until he heard the door close and the two enter his mother’s bedroom. The muffled moans began.

            “It’s working.” He smiled. “It will all be jake now.”

            The sound of footsteps woke him. He began to stand but George shook his head and sat beside him. “Why did you want this?”

            “You don’t have a family.” Jake said.

            “My family left me, I’m not about to force my way into another one.”

            “But…”

            “Look kid, that baby is his, not mine. Your mother wants him, not me.”

            The sound of the front door opening made George tense.

            “Thomas?” His mother’s voice. “What are you doing here tonight? I have a client here.”

            “I thought you were going to stop that now. Only I can have you.”

            “I need the money, Thomas. Jake doesn’t bring extra food anymore.”

            “I’m going out there.” George told Jake. Jake shook his head. “Sorry kid, but you’ll have to make up your own mind whether you’re staying here.”

            George left the bathroom and Jake heard voices shouting. He curled up into a ball and shut his eyes.

          “Thomas I didn’t know who he was! I thought he was just a client. It meant nothing.”

            “It meant nothing.” Jake repeated, gripping the cloth tighter. He stood and left his bathroom, hovering at the doorway.

            “I don’t intend to get involved with your woman. I’m just going to leave.”

            “Like hell you will! I warned you before to stay away from us!” Jake saw a flash of a knife and heard George’s cry of pain.

            “No!” Jake ran in, moving to George’s side. He was clutching his chest but was standing. “Stop it! Don’t hurt him anymore!”

            “Thomas.” His mother pleaded.

            “Fine, then get out. Kid, stand by your mother.”

            “Jake,” she said; arms outstretched. Jake looked at George, he refused to meet his gaze. “Come on sweetie.”

            Jake took a step forward, lifting his hand and placing the cloth in her hands.

            “I can’t.” He said, stepping back.

            “W-what’s this? Jake, please don’t leave!”

            “It’s for your baby. Your child.”

            “You’re my child! Don’t leave me!”

            “I can’t!” he screamed. “I can’t pretend anymore! Even if we don’t talk about it, it still happens! It hurts! Why won’t you admit that? You never admit that!”

            “Jake…”

            “Kid, you’re hurting your mother.” Thomas glared. “Apologise and it will be jake.”

            “No it won’t! It’s not jake! It was never jake!”

            “I’m leaving now.” George broke in.

            “Jake.” His mother said. She was crying. Jake was crying too. “Please.”

            “I’m sorry, I won’t. Goodbye mum.”

A knock on George’s apartment door made him look away from the photo on the bedside table. He groaned; one hand on his wound as he stood, placing the photo back face down.

            “Be quiet would you? Jake’s asleep.” The landlord scoffed but handed over the extra blankets without complaint.

            “What the hell are you thinking? Kids are expensive and you’re a selfish bastard. Why are you doing this? Trying to replace your kid that bitch took from you?”

            “Maybe. More than anything I couldn’t just leave him there. He sees me a decent guy. I like to believe I can become one with him around.”

             George walked to the couch where Jake was sleeping, a smile on his little face. He tucked the blanket around the small boy.

            “Suit yourself. Just make sure you keep paying your rent. I won’t be lenient just because you have a kid now.” The door closed. George stood, staring at the child.

            “Now what the hell do I do?”

In All We Have Been

Neither of them had any idea what to do, only what they should be doing. The unspoken agreement was not to mention it. Pretend it was less real.

            “I don’t have a spare room so you can take mine.” Vincent told the quiet child. The child was never quiet. “I’ll take the couch.”

            “You don’t have to.” The twelve year old snorted, wrapping his arms around himself. “I don’t need a bed.”

            After what he’d just been through Vincent knew it was a lie. He also knew suggesting to share would make it worse.

            “It folds out. I’ll be fine…So will you, Cammy. I promise.” Empty words, but he still intended to keep them.

            “He’ll find me. And I’m too selfish to leave.”

            After that night they tried harder at pretending.

Whenever Cammy thought of the man he would try to block it out with the image of a plane. A small toy plane he had clung to for so long. He wondered where the plane was now, left behind in the moment of escape.

            Planes could fly away from anything. It carried many people inside it but could easily leave others behind. No one could hurt a plane.

            “You think you can leave me? Just like that no good mother of yours. I’ll never let you go. Not unless…”

            “Not unless you find him.” Cammy repeated to his cereal.

            “Find who?” Vincent asked, frowning. It had been two weeks since the twenty-four year old took the boy in and still he had yet to see a smile on his face. It had never been hard to see him smile before the truth had come out.

            “You’re mad.” Cammy blurted out. “You don’t owe me anything, you don’t have to do this.”

            “You asked for my help.” Vincent said with a shrug. “That’s enough for me.”

            “Liar, you feel guilty. You shouldn’t.”

            Vincent had first met him when he was six. He’d been on a college placement at an infant school and been given the duty to watch over the trouble maker. Vincent had felt he was looking at the child he once was. They even looked similar, both with dark green eyes, both with black hair (though Vincent’s was longer).

            “You must be Cameron.” He’d said as a greeting. The boy had grinned and threw water in his face.

            “That’s Captain Cammy to you! If you want to fly on my plane you have to earn your place!”

            And so had begun a strange friendship. Even after Vincent became a teacher assistant at the same school while Cammy moved up to Junior school they made sure to stay in touch. They would meet up, go out to eat and have a good time. No one tried to stop the odd friendship, after all, Cammy actually began to behave when Vincent was around, putting his energy into his work instead of mischief. He was trying to reach his dream instead of just shouting about it.

            Even after six years Vincent had never met Cammy’s family and Cammy hadn’t seen his. He had tried to arrange a meeting, his father and step-mother eager to meet the boy who inspires their son so much. Cammy had been fine as Vincent led him to the restaurant but when he’d glimpsed at the two through the window he had run out of sight, refusing to go in.

            “I can’t! I can’t! They’ll know and I won’t be able to see you anymore.” He’d seemed so scared that Vincent hadn’t argued and he’d never brought up the idea again.

            It had been one of the few times Vincent had seen the anxiety locked in Cammy’s heart. He should have realised then something was wrong. No child could be that happy all the time.

            Yes, he felt guilty for not realising sooner. But it wasn’t just that. He’d vowed to protect Cammy, his surrogate son, from anything that could hurt him. He believed in him, already able to picture him twenty years from now, grinning as he prepared a plane for take-off. He’d already promised he’d be on the first plane Cammy commanded to fly. He wasn’t prepared to lose him. This sullen child wasn’t the Cammy he knew. He had to get him back. For good.

            “Moron.” He smiled, the comment making Cammy look up. “I love you, you’re my family too.” Cammy paled at this but Vincent wasn’t about to stop to wonder why. “At least that’s what I want. That’s why I called Social Services. We can sort this whole thing out and I can…”

            “Adopt me?” Cammy laughed. It was bitter enough to make Vincent wince. “You’re twelve years older than me, single and living in a one bed-roomed flat. There’s no way they’ll let me stay with you.”

            “I’ll move.” Vincent argued. “And I have people who can confirm I’m responsible enough to look after you. You want to stay here. I’ve been acting as a family to you for six years. We can do this.” Cammy said nothing. “If I hadn’t informed them, and then they had found out, I would never have a chance of keeping you.”

            “Keep me?” A smile broke onto the boy’s face. Vincent had never been more relieved. “You’re crazy. Why would you want to do that?”

            “I want a flight discount.” He smirked. The usual happy yet guarded boy grinned full out, hugging his surrogate father close.

            Once at work Vincent allowed a relieved sigh to leave him. He’d finally found the real Cammy and convinced him it would be alright. But he knew it wouldn’t be that easy. Social Services would place Cammy with a married couple over him even if he did have recommendations.

            He turned on his mobile and dialled, hoping Cammy would forgive him for this.

            “Hey dad, I need a favour.”

            “Take me with you mummy, please take me too!” The five year old Cammy cried. He’d packed a small suitcase filled with clothes and food, dragging it down the stairs after his mother.

            “Honey, don’t be silly.” She cooed, handing her bag to the man next to her. Cammy had seen the man before. He would come round when dad wasn’t in and give Cammy a toy to play with downstairs. He’d always go upstairs with his mum, leaving him alone. “I’m coming right back.”

            Even a child of five knew this was a lie.

            “Take me with you! Please take me too!” He sobbed, stamping his foot. His mother sighed, fighting back her own tears.

            “I promise I’ll come back for you sweetie. I promise.” She tried to hug him but he refused. Years later he would still regret that. “I have to go, I’ll miss my flight.” She placed a brown bag in his hands before leaving.

            The toy plane in the bag had felt cruel at the time, but he soon came to cherish it. Even when his dad came home and found his partner gone he still cherished it.

Vincent had made sure Cammy would be safe at school. The teachers had been informed of the abuse his father had inflicted on him and would call the police if he came near. He either waited at school for Vincent to pick him up or was escorted to a friend’s house by their parents. He was grateful for that.

            Today he was with El and her father. El was a shy girl and at first Cammy hadn’t noticed her much, being his opposite. He had soon discovered she possessed a fierce spirit waiting to be released, one he tended to bring out. Her full name was Elena but he’d taken it upon himself to shorten it. She never protested and eventually she would insist to others they call her it too.

            The two of them were more similar than people realised. Both strong and both trying to overcome their own limitations. For this reason Cammy had found himself telling El his many secret, even the ones Vincent didn’t know.

            “He wants to adopt me.” He told her once they were alone. “He said I was family.”

            “Isn’t that a good thing?” She asked, confused by his downhearted expression.

            “When he said that I thought…I thought he knew.”

            “…Maybe you should tell him. If the Social Services knew they would be more willing for you to stay together. Cammy…”

            “I know.” He sighed. “But my dad said…he said that they disowned him and any children he might have. Vincent hates him!”

            “But not you. He loves you. He’ll understand Cammy.”

            “…Do you have it then? I’ll need it back for when I tell him.” El smiled, pulling out the photo from her drawer.

            “I need to tell you something.” Cammy blurted out as they walked home. Vincent blinked down at him, seeing the determined set of his jaw.

            “Okay. I have something to say too. Hot chocolate?” The comment brought a smile back. A familiar tradition with unfamiliar confessions.

            “What on Earth were you thinking?” Vincent demanded, dabbing at the cut on Cammy’s face. “Starting a fight like that, do you want to be suspended?”

            “They deserved it.” Was all Cammy said. The triumphant grin was yet to leave his face.

            “Why do you do that?” Vincent frowned. “Why do you always smile?”

            Cammy blinked, tilting his head in thought before finally answering.

            “Because people always overlook their duty to be happy.”

            Vincent hadn’t known what to say to that. Sometimes Cammy felt like an old man to him, as though he’d been through more than most.

            “Ow!” Cammy winced when Vincent touched his back. Beneath was a mass of bruises, some yellowing with age.

            “How many fights have you been in?” Cammy didn’t answer. For the next two years he never corrected Vincent on where the bruises were from. He remained a passing smile to the world.

Cammy had entered the apartment first, practically bouncing towards the kitchen and hot chocolate.

            He was going to tell him. He was finally going to say it. You are my family.

            “Vincent? Is that you?”

            “Mum? I told you I’d call again later.”

            Hannah Roke, formerly Hannah Sellers. She was the mother of Casper Sellers and step-mother of Vincent Roke. 

            Grandmother of Cameron Maverick.

            The woman came into the hall to greet them, her smile fading to confusion.

            “This boy is Cammy? But he’s…”

            “No! Don’t tell him! I’m supposed to tell him! Stop it!”

            “Cammy…what the?”

            “Please don’t leave me! I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” He sobbed, fumbling as he pulled out the photo. “But I knew you hate him and I didn’t know what to do! He told me he’d only let me go if I found you but he said it after we’d already met. I never told him. I didn’t want him to hurt you…”

            “Cammy, calm down.” Vincent ordered, hands placed on his shoulders. “I’m not going anywhere no matter what. Now tell me what’s wrong.”

            “My mum’s name was Maverick.” He mumbled, his face now hiding in Vincent’s chest, clutching onto him as though he were about to disappear. “It’s not his name.”

            “Cammy…” A quivering hand shoved a photo into his face before he could say more. Vincent frowned and took it.

            It was a photo of four people. The child of five was clearly Cammy being held in the arms of Hannah Roke, Vincent’s step-mother. Beside him was a younger woman, one Vincent recognised as a girl he’d once known. Beside her was…

            “Casper? He’s your father?”

            His answer was a heavier burst of tears. 

            A sudden knock in the middle of the night had woken Vincent up. He sighed as he left his warm bed, swearing that if it was his neighbour again he wasn’t being nice anymore.

            “Damn it.” He heard through the door. It was definitely Cammy’s voice, except there was a quivering, defeated tone that he’d never heard in it before.

            “Cammy?” He flung the door open, seeing the twelve year old with his head down, shaking. Vincent wasn’t sure what from. “What happened?”

            “I’m sorry but I just couldn’t stay there anymore. I couldn’t.” He had his school bag with him. Vincent led the boy in, now able to see the cuts and bruises on his face and arms.

            “God Cammy…”

            “I don’t know why, I’m used to it after all. But he was so mad at me and I didn’t know why. I suddenly felt I couldn’t be happy this way anymore. I can’t go back Vincent, I can’t.”

            He was torn between hugging him or taking care of his wounds. He soon decided to concentrate on the wounds when Cammy automatically flinched at being touched.

            “Your father did this.” It wasn’t a question. Cammy didn’t answer it. “How long?”

            “Since mum left.” He whispered.

            “You mean this has been going on the whole time I’ve known you? Why didn’t you tell me?” His raised voice made Cammy wince. Vincent took a deep breath.

            “I couldn’t. you would have tried to stop him.”

            “Of course I would have!”

            “You would meet. He would hurt you.”

            “I could have helped you Cammy.”

            “Help me now.” Was all he said. His eyes were pleading, making Vincent’s heart ache.

            “Always.”

            Vincent’s father had re-married when he was four to a woman who had a child from a previous marriage. That was how he met Casper Sellers. Casper was ten years his senior and therefore seen as the older, wiser brother to be devoted to. Vincent would tag along when Casper went out, just to watch him. Casper neither encouraged or frowned over it, and so they continued that way for four years.

            “I hate him, that’s true.” Vincent said softly as he rocked the sobbing Cammy. “But I could never hate you. You’re nothing like him. What gave you the stupid idea that I’d hate you?” Cammy didn’t answer, still incoherent with sobs. He had noticeably calmed though.

            “I’m sorry Cammy.” Hannah spoke. “I should have tried harder to find you again.”

            “What do you mean mum?”

            “After Anne left I went to visit and found Casper in a foul mood. We had an argument about…a lot of things. In the end he moved without telling me where to and I couldn’t find them again. I couldn’t help Cammy when he needed me most.”

            “You can help him now.” Vincent said. “You’re his grandmother, you can claim custody.”

            “No!” Cammy broke in. “Vincent, I want to stay with you! Please…”

            “Cammy.” Hannah began. “You remember me don’t you? I used to visit every week. You came to my house to play. It’s a big house, you can even have your own room.”

            “Vincent said he’ll move! I want to stay with him.”

            “I did say that.” Vincent admitted, a smile suddenly forming. “Is my old room free?”

            “Where are you going?” Hannah asked the eighteen year old Casper. “Not out with those friends of yours again…”

            “I can do what I like mum, stay out of it.”

            An eight year old Vincent watched from his bedroom window as his step-brother disappeared down the street. He would still be watching past midnight, waiting for him to return. That night Casper left home, disappearing for two years before he came back one day, asking to stay for a while. Vincent avoided him, hurt for being left behind and bitter that Casper never thought to apologise. They tolerated him staying, continuing with the lives they had before he’d come back.

            One evening Vincent had been outside the house talking to his crush, Anne, who was four years older than him. Casper had been returning and stopped to join in. Anne’s eyes had practically sparkled with adoration. She never bothered talking to Vincent much after that.

            When Vincent was eleven he came home one day to learn fifteen year old Anne was pregnant with Casper’s child. Anne and Casper had gone to the Oak Tree-the local pub that allowed minors to enter-in order to ‘celebrate’. Vincent had gone to find them.

            “I can’t believe you! She’s only fifteen and you’ve ruined her life!”

            “No Vincent, we’re going to get married when I’m eighteen.” Anne insisted.

            “He’ll never marry you! You’re just going to end up miserable and that baby will never have the decent life it should!”

            “Tell you what.” Casper grinned. “When I’ve ruined all of our lives I’ll send the kid your way.”

            That was the last time Vincent ever saw him. Part of him still wished he’d punched him, no matter how useless it would have proven.

            Vincent made sure Cammy was sound asleep in his new room before leaving the house. Neither of his parents asked him where he was going. They knew. They also knew it would be useless to try and stop him.

            So many ‘if only’ cases ran through his mind as Vincent walked to the Oak Tree. If only Anne hadn’t left Cammy. If only Cammy hadn’t hid his pain with a smile. If only Vincent had noticed it. It only Cammy hadn’t pretended to Casper he didn’t know Vincent.

            If only Vincent were Cammy’s real father.

            “I was beginning to think you’d never come. I’ve already been waiting two weeks.”

            Despite the fact Vincent and Casper weren’t related by blood they still looked similar. His hair was still longer than Vincent’s, this irritated him.

            “He only just told me.” Casper snorted.

            “That kid outsmarted himself. What a dumbass.”

            “Dumbass?” Vincent exploded. “He’s a dumbass just because he wanted to protect me? He’s a good person. He didn’t deserve what you’ve put him through.”

            “Probably not.” He said with a carefree shrug. “Life is cruel that way. Look on the bright side, at least now I can hand over me and Anne’s leftover to you.”

            Vincent clenched his jaw shut in order to resist punching him.

            “Cammy is not a leftover!”

            “Yeah, yeah. You got what you wanted, right? I ruined his life so now I sent him to you.”

            “And when I put in a custody claim you’ll agree to it?”

            “If it’s not too much trouble.” He sighed, pulling out a pen and writing on a napkin. “My number and address. You’ll need them I guess. Once he’s yours you can do what you want with it.”

            Burn it, was Vincent’s first though. But he never knew, perhaps one day Cammy would want to see his father again.

            “You’re my dad now.” Was his reply in the morning, a truthful smile alighting his face. “And what a lame one you are, still living with your parents!”

            Twenty years. Cammy thought as he looked around once more. Twenty years today since I became a Roke.

            “Is that old man here yet?” He complained. His wife El tore her gaze from their toddler daughter to help look.

            “He will be. He always is.” Cammy grinned. He knew that much, he never doubted it. But when? At this rate he wouldn’t be able to give Vincent a tour of the airplane before people started boarding.

            “I can’t believe it took this long.”

            “I can’t believe you’re still complaining, Captain. You did it, that’s all that matters.”

            “Don’t let your past dictate who you are, but let it help who you will become.” A voice broke in. Cammy rolled his eyes.

            “Stop stealing my lines dad.”

            “A parent’s right.” Vincent smirked before looking towards the plane visible through the window. “You really did it.”

            “Of course. You doubted me?”

            “Never.”

            “…Thanks.”

            “Plane!” Little Hope screeched, giggling. Cammy laughed with her.

            “And daddy’s flying it!”

            “Me come!”

            “Yeah you’re coming! And mummy too!”

            “Grandpa?”

            Cammy sighed, his grin dropping into one of his true smiles.

            “Always.”