S. Watson - Second Life

‘What’s going on?’ I shrug off my coat.

‘He’s here?’

‘Yes.’

He must’ve doubled back, or gone through the backstreets.

‘Where is he?’ I say.

‘Upstairs. What’s going on, Julia?’ He’s raised his voice but appears largely unflustered.

I push past him. I’m furious. I’d had to go back to the restaurant; people had stared at me as I’d asked for the bill and paid it. A woman had tilted her head, half smiling, in a way that I suppose was meant to convey sympathy and understanding but in fact made me want to slap her. I’d then left in a hurry, forgotten the bag I’d stashed under my seat, had to go back for it.

‘He made me look an absolute bloody idiot.’

He tries to interrupt, but I don’t let him. I go upstairs, towards Connor’s room. What I can’t let him see is that I’m scared, as well as furious. Lukas has got to my son, as well as to me, as well as to my friend. He’s stalking him now, and I don’t know why. I can only hope it’s to intimidate me, to let me know he has the power to do that. I can only hope that he’s made his point now, and that’s all it is.

But maybe he’s got a taste for it. For scaring me, for proving just how deeply he’s infiltrated my life. I realize that I’m going to have to see him again, somehow confront him. I can’t let him get away with it.

I’m at the top of the stairs when Hugh calls me back. ‘Julia! What the hell is going on?’

I turn to face him. ‘What’s he told you?’

‘Some argument about his phone. The internet? He said you were being totally unreasonable.’

I could tell Hugh, I think. I could tell him everything. Lukas would have no power over me then.

But it would end our marriage. And Connor wouldn’t be able to cope with that, not on top of his mother’s death. I might lose him, too, if it all came out.

I have to protect him. I promised Kate I’d put him first, always. I told her that he was the world to me, when we first had him, and then again and again when she was trying to take him back. To let him down now would be the final betrayal, the ultimate failure.

‘He’s grounded.’ It’s a punishment – for leaving me in the restaurant, for using Facebook to tell the whole world about my life – but then I realize it would also be a protection. If he can’t go out, Lukas can’t get to him.

‘I mean it.’

Hugh stands still. He shrugs, as if to say it’s up to me, but then says, ‘Is it really that important?’ It enrages me even further. He thinks he’s protecting Connor, but he doesn’t understand. I turn to go into Connor’s room; by now my fury is stoked, throbbing. Dimly, I’m aware that it’s an anger that would be better directed at Lukas, but that’s not possible, and it must be discharged somewhere. And so, here we are. ‘And I’m taking his phone,’ I say, adding, ‘That’s all there is to it,’ as if he were about to argue.

Connor has closed his door, of course. I knock, but it’s perfunctory; I’m opening the door before I’ve even finished telling him I’m coming in. I don’t know what I expect to see – him lying face down on his unmade bed perhaps, wearing headphones, or lying back to stare grimly at the ceiling – but what I do see surprises me. The room is even more untidy than usual, and he’s standing at his bed, frantically stuffing the contents of his chest of drawers into the sports bag he has open in front of him.

‘Connor!’ He looks up, his face grim, but says nothing. I ask him what he thinks he’s doing.

‘What the fuck does it look like?’

‘Don’t you use language like that with me!’ I’m aware of Hugh arriving at my side, though he hangs back slightly; this is my argument, and he won’t take sides until he’s sure which one he should be on. The room is silent for a moment, thick with venom and animosity.

Connor mutters something. Again it sounds like ‘Fuck you’, though that might be my imagination finally refusing to give him the benefit of the doubt.

‘What did you just say?’ I’m shouting, now. I can feel my heart in my chest, too fast. Preparation for the fight.

‘Julia—’ begins Hugh at the doorway, but I silence him.

‘Connor Wilding! Stop what you’re doing right now!’

He ignores me. I go over, snatch the bag off the bed and toss it to the floor behind me. He raises his hand, as if he’s about to strike me, and I look in his eyes and see that he’d like to. I grab his wrist. For a moment I think about Lukas grabbing mine, and I’d like to twist my son’s in the same way, hurt him in the same way. Instantly, I’m ashamed. Distantly, I get the impression I’d never think this with a son of my own, one I’d given birth to; the thought of causing him pain wouldn’t cross my mind, not even fleetingly. Yet I’ll never know, and in any case I don’t get the chance. He wrenches his arm out of my grip; I’m surprised at his strength.

‘You stupid little boy!’ I can’t help it. I can feel Hugh bristle behind me; he takes a step forward, is about to speak. I get in ahead of him. ‘Where d’you think you’re going to go? Running away? At your age? Don’t be so ridiculous.’

He looks wounded.

‘You think you’d last more than five minutes?’

‘I’m going to see Evie!’ he yells, his face inches from mine. His spittle falls on my lips.

‘Evie?’ I start to laugh. I’m regretting it already, but somehow powerless to stop speaking. ‘Your girlfriend ?’

‘Yes.’

‘Your girlfriend who you only talk to online?’

His face falls. I can see I’m right.

His voice cracks. ‘So?’ I experience a moment of triumph then feel utterly wretched.

‘Are you even sure she’s who she says she is?’

I mean it to be a genuine question, yet it comes out as a sneering accusation.

‘Julia…’ Hugh’s taken another step forward, is by my side now. I can feel his heat, the faint aroma of his body after a day in the office. ‘Enough,’ he says. He puts his hand on my arm and I shrug it off.

There’s a long silence. Connor stares at me with a look of absolute hatred in his eyes, then he says, ‘For fuck’s sake, of course she’s who she says she is!’

‘That’s enough of your language,’ says Hugh. He’s picked his team. ‘Both of you, just calm down—’

I ignore him. ‘You’ve spoken to her? Have you? Or are you just Facebook friends?’

My tone is supremely condescending, as if I find him pathetic. I don’t. It’s me I’m really talking to. I did exactly that, fell for someone on the internet. It’s myself I’m furious with, not him.

I try to calm down, but I can’t. My anger is unstoppable.

‘Of course I’ve spoken to her. She’s my girlfriend.’ He stares right at me. ‘Whether you like it or not, Mum.’ He pauses, and I know what he’s going to say next. ‘She loves me.’

‘Love?’ I want to laugh out loud, yet manage to stop myself. ‘As if you –’

‘Julia!’ says Hugh. His voice is loud. It’s an attempt to shock me into silence, but I won’t be silenced.

‘– as if you have any idea about love. You’re fourteen years old, Connor. Fourteen . How old is she?’

He doesn’t answer.

‘How old, Connor?’

‘What does it matter?’

Hugh speaks again. ‘Connor! Your mother asked you a question.’

He turns to his father. Go on, I think. I dare you. Say ‘Fuck you’ to him.

He won’t, of course. ‘Eighteen,’ he says. He’s lying, I know it. I snort. It’s through nerves, through fear, but I can’t help it.

‘Eighteen?’ I say. ‘No, Connor. No way can you go and see her. No way—’

‘You can’t stop me.’

He’s right. If he were determined enough, then there’d be nothing I could do.