The End is Where We Begin by Maria Goodin (open ebook .txt) 📕

was sleeping on the couch. My dad – increasingly confused and erratic in his behaviour – was spending most his time tinkering in his workshop, and I was back at college, now on a vocational training course while trying to juggle parenthood. If it wasn’t for Brenda doing most of the washing and cleaning and cooking, I think we’d have descended into total chaos. As it was, toys and games littered the lounge floor, along with guitars, bags, blankets, books… But despite the disarray, every single one of us cared for Josh, played with him, read to him, tickled him, held him. Did Hellie seriously think the mess was the problem?

“You know, if you need money for a nanny or childminder or whatever they’re called,” said Hellie, scanning the mess, “then my parents—”

“I don’t want your parents’ money!” I yelled in disbelief. “He’s our son, we need to support him! I don’t want a penny from your parents, I just want to stop living in limbo, waiting to see what you’re going to do next!”

Three years of suppressed rage rose up in me like molten lava pushing up through a volcano. Three years of sleepless nights, exhaustion, confusion, not knowing whether she was staying or going, trying to be patient for the sake of our son. Three years of shelving every one of my own needs, hopes and ambitions while she swanned around the world on her trust fund, doing whatever the fuck she wanted. Three years of responsibilities I’d never imagined having at the age of twenty, all on my shoulders. I clenched my jaw so hard I thought I might crack my back teeth.

“You,” I said quietly, my voice trembling with barely contained anger, “are the issue here, Hellie. Not me. I’m here. I’m the one up in the night because he’s upset over you leaving again. I’m the one dealing with the fits of anger after you’ve gone. I’m the one dealing with the endless questions about where you are, the acting out, the scribbling on the walls, the bed wetting, the refusal to speak for hours on end. And the reason he’s doing those things is because of you, not me!”

Hellie crossed her arms and shook her head at the ceiling dismissively.

“You need to decide if you’re in or out, Hellie,” I told her, “because you can’t keep doing this to him. You need to make a choice. Not just about whether to be physically here or not, but about whether to be a mother. Because, let’s face it, even when you’re here you’re not. You talk to him and play with him for a couple of hours and then you’re off out again, bored by him.”

“That’s not true—”

“Of course it’s true!” I shouted, wringing my hands through my hair, unable to believe that she could deny it.

“And so you’re the perfect dad now, are you?” she said, colour raising in her cheeks.

“I’m here!” I yelled in exasperation. “I’m not perfect, but I’m here! Which is where you should be, but you’re not because you’re too selfish!”

“I’m not selfish!” she snapped. “But the opportunities to do the things I want aren’t here on this crappy little island!”

“You should have thought about that before having a baby! And maybe before lying to me about being on the pill!”

“I didn’t lie,” she spat.

“Whatever,” I retorted.

We’d been here before. More than once she’d told me she wasn’t on the pill when we slept together, that she’d lied in order to get me to sleep with her. It was because she’d wanted a baby, wanted to piss her parents off, wanted to trap me… the reason changed each time. And then she’d change her mind, say she’d just been messing with me, that of course she’d been on the pill, why the hell would she have intended to get pregnant? One thing I’d found out too late about Hellie was that she liked to screw with your head. I didn’t know what the truth was. What did it even matter?

“You need to make up your mind, Hellie,” I said, my hands balled into fists at my side, “because we can’t go on like this. I mean, what even is this?” I asked, gesturing between her and myself. “You live here, sort of, when you can be bothered, but why? We’re not a couple, we never will be. This whole situation is just so fucked up! I can’t go on like this. I need to know what’s happening, and you need to decide if you’re in or out!”

“You can’t give me an ultimatum!” she snapped.

“I’m not giving you an ultimatum, I’m asking you to make a fricking choice!”

“You can’t demand that I make a choice!”

“And I can’t let you keep on doing this to him! He doesn’t understand what’s going on! It would be different if you actually acted like you gave a shit when you were here, but you don’t!”

“Don’t tell me what I can and cannot do,” she said sternly, “I’m his mother. I can take him with me right now if that’s what I choose to do.”

I froze, chills running up my spine. Could she do that? Would she? It had never occurred to me she could take him, simply because she’d never shown anything but a fleeting interest in him. But suddenly it seemed like exactly the kind of erratic, impulsive thing she might try to do just to spite me.

Overtaken by a sense of panic and fury, I suddenly found myself up close in her face. “If you ever try to take him from me…” I spat at her through clenched teeth, but I didn’t know how to finish the sentence. Then what? What would I do?

Hellie glared at me. Then she shook her head slowly and turned away with a sigh, as if she’d had enough, as if this just wasn’t worth the fight. She gathered up her jacket and the two holdalls that only an hour earlier she’d dumped on the armchair and walked