I Know My Mother Love Me, but Does My Father Even Care?

Jimmy’s pov
Dear diary,
It’s been a week since my mom died. Today’s her funeral, but I don’t feel ready for it. Some weird reason it feels like she’s still here, even though I know she isn’t… I can’t believe its been a week already! I must of said like, 2 things to my dad since her death, which doesn’t involve arguments, and that was ‘Yeh’ and ‘no’ from questions he had asked me. He did cheat. He was cheating all along. Since before I was born. His daughter, scar, is lovely. I don’t know where she gets it from because as far as I can see both of her parents are pricks. She’s only 5 years old and I have more in common with her then I do with my dad. He has 2 other kids, but we don’t really talk to each other. Lizze’s one of those stuck up bitches, who flirts with everyone, and Cian is just shy, I guess. Damon has really supported me lately and been there when I needed someone most but he but he said he couldn’t make it to the funeral. He doesn’t like funerals or something like that. I know my dads coming to the funeral. He’s taking the kids. And Leana. I hate her, I really do. I know it’s not all her fault, but she knew he was married. She could’ve said no. scar promised to hold my hand in the funeral. And she said I could have her teddy if I get lonely…

Oh, for fuck sake. I'm talking about a five year old like she’s my best friend. I seriously need a news flash, she’s 5! But yet still one of the nicest people I've met. I wish my mom was here, I know I keep saying it, and it probably sounds pathetic but she’s the one person who ha been by my side through thick and thin, through everything since I was born.
I walked downstairs. I had school then half way through second lesson, I had the funeral… my dad’s collecting me from school. I said I’d take the bus but he insisted.
“How are you?” he asked.
“It’s the day of my moms’ funeral, take a guess,”
“Jimmy…”
“Don’t start, the last person I want to talk to is you,”
“I’m just trying to be nice!” he suddenly snapped.
“Then you should’ve been since the day I was born,” I shouted back. “Not when it suits you best!”
“It doesn’t suit me best! I just thought as your mom died you’d want some comfort!”
“I get comfort. Off Damon and Frankie, so you don’t even need to bother.”
“What do you want me to do then?!”
”Treat me like you used to, just ignore me I preferred that way,”
“Fine,” he replied. “What time do you want me to pick you up?”
“I dunno, 5 to 11,” I said.
“Okay, Jimmy she’s not gone forever.”
“Yes she is,”
“No, what I'm trying to say is that she’ll always be with too, in you’re…”
“Don’t even finish that sentence,” I interrupted him. “Cos it’s the stupidest, fucking sentence I’ve ever heard! No she’s not always gonna be with me. She’s dead? And, fuck, why do you even need to say that!”
I punched the wall from frustration and dented it. The paint cracked and my knuckles loudly clicked.
“Jimmy,” he panicked. “Calm down.”
“No,” I replied with tears burning in my eyes. “I don’t need to; you need to stop saying stupid things!”
”Okay,” he agreed nodding.
I looked at my knuckles they had lightly bruised already. I wiggled my fingers to make sure they weren’t broken, then without another word to my dad, I kissed scar on the top of her head, who had been watching me and dad arguing and I left for my bus.

I'm in history now and the teacher is collecting homework.
“Jimmy,” he ordered putting his hand out. “Homework.”
“I haven’t done it sir,”
“Why not?”
“Forgot about it,”
“Jimmy, I went easy on you last week…” he started.
“I know, I know,” I replied quickly, trying to make him quiet and not say what I thought he would.
“I know your mother died,” he continued. “But that’s no excuse not to do your homework. She’d be ashamed of you!”
I stood up quickly.
“Oooooooo,” Tommy laughed with his mates. “You made Jimmy angry.”
“Jimmy sit down!” He ordered.
I ignored him, “You didn’t even know my mother,”
“No, but I can guarantee that she’d be disappointed with you.”
“You asshole,” I whispered getting closer to him. “Take that back,”
“Watch your mouth young man!” he shouted.
“Watch your back,” I warned.
My dad came into class. He looked from me to the teacher then asked, “Sorry, am I interrupting something?”
I gritted my teeth together and held back my tears not wanting to cry anymore. And it took every strength within me not to hit the teacher. Recognising the similarities, the teacher answered, “Yes sir, your son just threatened me.”
“What?!” my dad replied sounding surprised.
“Get your facts straight, you fag…” I shouted.
The class seemed to watch in amazement as we argued.
“Jimmy,” my dad shouted over me. “What’s happened?”
“I forgot to do my homework,” I swallowed. “And he said she’d be ashamed of me.”
My dad looked at my teacher, “That was unnecessary to say, and I think you should apologise to my son.”
I looked at him, he actually meant it.
“And why is that, Mr. Sullivan?” the teacher questioned.
“Well his mom just died and now you’re throwing this shit on him,”
I looked at my teacher, he was lost for words and I found myself smirking.
“Come on Jimmy,” my dad said holding the door open but still staring at my teacher. “We have a funeral to get too.”

The revs pov
The noise of the engine filled the silence in the car. Jimmy was slouching in his chair staring out of the closed window. I felt like crying he looked sad, like everything was hitting him again. I glanced at him again through the rear mirror and something caught my eye. “What’s that?”
He quickly pulled the sleeves of his suit clear over his wrists, and quickly replied, “Nothing.”
I shook my head and tried to concentrate on the road again but found it hard… he slit his wrists? I hope I was mistaken and it really was nothing, but it didn’t look like it was. I didn’t know what to do.
When we arrived at the funeral there was already several people there, including Leana and the kids. I asked Jimmy to wait for me outside the car, and he did.
“Let me see your wrists,”
“No,” he replied.
“Let me see your wrists,” I insisted.
He looked up to the sky, as if he was waiting for some guiding light to help him decide. He looked back at the floor and whispered, “For fuck sake.”
He pulled up his sleeve and the cut was deep. Luckily they weren’t deep enough. There was several cuts, new and old. He covered them back up quickly and I didn’t know what to say but managed to croak out, “Why?”
“I dunno. I thought I could see my mom again…”
I looked at him; he looked as if he was going to cry. “Jimmy,” I tried to soothe him. “Everything will be alright,”
“Easy for you to say,”
“What’s that mean?”
“If it was you’re mom, or someone you actually cared for would you take that an answer?”
I thought about it and watched the tears fill his eyes or they refuse4d to spill out, “Jimmy,” I whispered. “I was just trying to make you feel better,”
“But I'm not going to feel better!” he shouted back and a frustrated tear slipped down his cheek. “She’s gone, why don’t you understand that?”
I watched him walk off to the ceremony and he linked hands with scar. I always seem to say the wrong things…