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HE’S FINALLY HOME. Dad walks in like nothing’s happened, beer already cracked open and clutched in one hand like it’s some bloody lifeline. He sinks into the armchair in the living room with that tired sigh he always lets out after work-only this time it’s not just work. It’s been two weeks.
Two weeks since he left. Two weeks since I’ve spoken to him.
I hover in the doorway, arms crossed, ankle stiff but manageable. I wait a second before stepping in. “We need to talk.”
He doesn’t even look up at first. Just lifts the bottle to his lips and takes a sip, eyes fixed on the telly. The football’s on, of course. Typical.
“You need to tell me why the hell you’ve been ignoring my calls first,” he mutters, finally glancing my way. “And that ankle of yours-is it good?”
I ignore the question. “What did you say to Carmen?”
That gets his full attention. He lowers the bottle, squints like he didn’t hear me right. “What?”
“You heard me.” My jaw clenches. “Don’t play dumb. She won’t even talk about it, but I know. So, go on. What did you say to her?”
He shrugs. “I said nothing.”
I let out a scoff, disbelief curdling in my gut. “You think I’m stupid, huh?”
“If you’re messing around with a girl like her when you should be focused on recovering from an injury you got on my pitch, then yeah, Connie. I do.”
I step forward. “Girl like her?”
He sighs like I’m being dramatic, like I’m making something out of nothing. “She’s not like us, okay? She didn’t have to work hard for shit. She got everything handed to her and those are the type of girls you want to stay away from.”
I let out a dry chuckle, shaking my head at his words. “You can’t be serious. You don’t even know her.”
“Whatever her name is, you don’t need distractions right now. You’re meant to be getting scouted, not-“
“Do you even hear yourself?” I cut in, my voice sharper than I mean it to be. “She was with me when I got injured. She helped me, sat with me through it. And you just-” I shake my head. “You made her feel like shit. For what? For being there for your son?”
He doesn’t reply straight away. Just stares at the label on his beer like it’s got all the answers. “I was trying to look out for you,” he says eventually.
“No.” My voice lowers. “You were trying to control everything. You always do. And this time? I’ve had fucking enough. She’s a good person, a good friend. She actually cares about me, dad, so you better hope you didn’t fuck anything up between us.”
The silence stretches. He leans forward, elbows on his knees, fingers rubbing at his temples like he’s got a headache. “I didn’t realise…”
“Well, you should’ve.” I should stop but I can’t. That look on her face when she told me everything. She looked so fucking hurt. “Carmen took Cora out the other day. Just to cheer her up. Took her shopping, spent time with her. You know what that meant to her?”
His head lifts, something flickering in his eyes. “She’s struggling, Dad. And you’re just sitting here, watching football, acting like everything’s fine.”
He sets the bottle down with a quiet thud. “Don’t start this now, Aaron-“
“No, I will start.” I take a breath, steadying myself. “You don’t treat Cora right. You haven’t for a while. You act like she’s not even your kid half the time. Like she’s some rebellious brat you’ve given up on.”
“That’s not fair,” he mutters, eyes narrowing.
“It’s not fair for her.” My voice cracks a little. “She needs you. And you’re pushing her away. Mum-” I stop myself, swallowing hard. “Mum would be gutted if she saw how things are now.”
His face pales a bit. The tears come quick, even if he tries to blink them away like I haven’t noticed. But I do. “Fuck,” he whispers.
“She needs you now more than ever. Don’t you realise? Don’t you see it in the way she’s acting?”
“How can I fix it?” he mutters. “It’s too late.”
“It’s gonna take time. She’s not just going to forgive you overnight. You’ve gotta show her. You’ve gotta try. Properly.”
He looks up at me, defeated. “What should I do?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. But she’ll see it if you start trying. Just… start showing up. Be her dad. Like you’re supposed to be.”
“I will,” he says under his breath but seems like he was talking to himself rather than to me. “I’m sorry, Connie.”
“Tell her that.” I turn to leave, climbing the stairs slowly-and that’s when I see Cora. Sitting at the top step, knees to her chest.
“You heard that?” I ask, voice barely above a whisper.
She doesn’t answer with words. She stands, takes one step down, and wraps her arms around me. Tight. Arms around my torso like she’s clinging to life.
“I love you,” she says against my chest. “And I’m sorry. For ignoring you. For being moody. For acting like I didn’t care.”
I hug her back just as tight. “It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not,” she mumbles. “I wouldn’t know what to do without you.”
My heart feels like it’s splitting in half and healing at the same time.
“I’ve got you,” I whisper. “Always.”
There’s a warmth spreading in my chest-something I haven’t felt in a long time. Relief, maybe. Or the start of something being fixed.
“Get dressed,” I say gently. “I’m taking you out. Fish and chips?”
Her face lights up. “Really?”
“Yeah. Go on. Before I change my mind.”
She darts to her room and I shake my head, laughing softly to myself. I limp to my own room to grab my jacket, but the door creaks open before I get to it.
Dad stands there, holding a box in his hands.
“She… gave me this,” he says awkwardly. “I meant to give it to you. I just… didn’t.” I stare at the box for a second before taking it. He clears his throat. “I’m sorry. Again.” Then he walks off.
I sit on the edge of my bed, the navy blue box resting in my hands. The black bow is tied neatly, like she took her time with it. I remember that tutoring session we had, the one where she guessed navy blue was my favourite colour. I’d told her she was right, even though I didn’t have one.
I do now.
I untie the bow and open it slowly. It’s a CD.
My smile is instant, wide and stupid and so real. Tucked beneath it is a folded note.
Happy late birthday! I thought it would be a good time to give you this because of your recovery. I hope you like it.
– From Blondie
I brush my thumb over the writing and place the CD gently next to my mum’s old player on my desk. And Carmen says I’m sweet, but she’s the one that made this. Made it just for me. My smile grows even wider at the thought.
Bloody hell. What is that girl doing to me?
“Ready!” Cora yells, snapping me out of my thoughts. She appears in the doorway, jacket on, shoes already laced.
I laugh at how fast she got changed before grabbing my keys, and heading downstairs.
Just as we’re about to walk out, Cora glances over her shoulder.
“Dad?” she says, her voice careful. “You wanna come with us?”
He eyes meet mine, a hint of uncertainty behind them, as if he’s looking at me for permission. I nod my head once. A beat. Then he nods, standing slowly. “Yeah. I’d like that.”
I glance at her, a small smile on my lips that says I’m proud. Because I am.
As we step out into the evening air, the chill brushes against my face, but it doesn’t bite the way it used to. There’s something different tonight. Lighter. Cora’s beside me, chatting about which chippy we should go to like nothing even happened. And Dad-he’s locking the front door behind us, shoulders hunched like he’s still unsure if he belongs. But he came. That’s what matters. He said yes.
And for the first time in a long time, I feel like maybe we’re getting somewhere.
Maybe it’s not all broken beyond repair.
I glance over at Cora. Her eyes are brighter than they’ve been in months. No more slamming doors. No more cold shoulders. Just her. My little sister, talking again. Letting me in.
And I did that.
I actually did it. Well, with the help of Carmen, of course.
All this time I thought I was failing her-every time she walked past me like I didn’t exist, every time she flinched when Dad raised his voice, every time I lay awake thinking I wasn’t enough to fix what he broke-I thought I was failing like I failed Mum. I let her fade out of our lives without fighting hard enough. I didn’t save her.
But Cora… She’s still here.
And maybe I can’t bring Mum back. Maybe I’ll never shake the guilt of that. But I can show up for Cora. I can fight for her. I can pull her back every time she starts to slip.
Tonight feels like the start of something new. Something better.
Maybe this is what healing looks like-slow and messy, but real.
And for the first time in a long time…
I don’t feel like I’m losing.
I don’t feel like I’m too late.
I don’t feel like I failed.
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