Status: Completed
Silence
1
Sometimes, Gabriel feels lost.
It’s a strange feeling for him. It unnerves, him makes him feel as if his feet aren’t quite touching the ground but floating, as if his eyes are closed and his hands shaking. It scares him, because feeling lost means he’s done something wrong.
Gabriel has never felt more lost than right now, with his son sitting hunched over and miserable in the car next to him, plucking at a new white bandage around his wrist. A bloody towel and jacket that they are both trying to ignore lie on the back seats.
His feet aren’t floating. They’re on the pedals.
His hands aren’t shaking. They’re tight around the steering wheel.
His son sniffs, wiping his nose on the sleeve of his shirt, and Gabriel wants to say something, anything, he must, because if he doesn’t he knows it will be a terrible mistake, but he can’t think of a single thing to say, so stays quiet.
Gabriel had always been quiet with Jake, never being able to understand what to say since he had had a call from Jake's teacher and found out that he had been skipping school. Since then, they hadn’t spoken much. Just shouting matches in the kitchen, in the living room, in the car. Gabriel had blamed them on Jake. It was because Jake wasn’t trying in school, he told himself, and he, Jake’s father, was trying to help him for when school ended. It was because they knew Jake could do well, of course he could, wasn’t his younger sister top in her year, and why wasn’t Jake? It was because Jake was bitter and angry towards him, and Gabriel wasn’t able anymore to connect with the young boy that he had taught to ride a bike, and who he had played football with at weekends, and who would run and greet him and hug him whenever he got home from work. And now Jake was eighteen, and instead of talking, there was just silence.
Gabriel never knew silence could be this silent. He never knew it could be this scary.
No until a few hours earlier, when Jake had stumbled into Gabriel’s study, tears and snot streaming down his face, a constant babble of apologies streaming from his mouth that Gabriel could not understand, and blood, blood, thick and red and dark, staining the left sleeve of Jake’s favourite jacket.
Gabriel glanced over at Jake again. Jake’s eyes were red, his lips red and swollen from crying, his bandaged hand positioned awkwardly on his lap. He was staring out of the window with dull eyes, watching the sky and trees and road stream past without registering it.
He should say something. He could say that they were nearly home. He could say that they could get Jake a new jacket. He could say that everything would be alright, he’d make it alright, and he could stop the car and hug Jake and make sure that Jake knew that he’d try his hardest to make sure everything was alright.
Gabriel’s hand twitched on the steering wheel, but he didn’t move it.
He didn’t know how to say anything, so drove on in silence.
It’s a strange feeling for him. It unnerves, him makes him feel as if his feet aren’t quite touching the ground but floating, as if his eyes are closed and his hands shaking. It scares him, because feeling lost means he’s done something wrong.
Gabriel has never felt more lost than right now, with his son sitting hunched over and miserable in the car next to him, plucking at a new white bandage around his wrist. A bloody towel and jacket that they are both trying to ignore lie on the back seats.
His feet aren’t floating. They’re on the pedals.
His hands aren’t shaking. They’re tight around the steering wheel.
His son sniffs, wiping his nose on the sleeve of his shirt, and Gabriel wants to say something, anything, he must, because if he doesn’t he knows it will be a terrible mistake, but he can’t think of a single thing to say, so stays quiet.
Gabriel had always been quiet with Jake, never being able to understand what to say since he had had a call from Jake's teacher and found out that he had been skipping school. Since then, they hadn’t spoken much. Just shouting matches in the kitchen, in the living room, in the car. Gabriel had blamed them on Jake. It was because Jake wasn’t trying in school, he told himself, and he, Jake’s father, was trying to help him for when school ended. It was because they knew Jake could do well, of course he could, wasn’t his younger sister top in her year, and why wasn’t Jake? It was because Jake was bitter and angry towards him, and Gabriel wasn’t able anymore to connect with the young boy that he had taught to ride a bike, and who he had played football with at weekends, and who would run and greet him and hug him whenever he got home from work. And now Jake was eighteen, and instead of talking, there was just silence.
Gabriel never knew silence could be this silent. He never knew it could be this scary.
No until a few hours earlier, when Jake had stumbled into Gabriel’s study, tears and snot streaming down his face, a constant babble of apologies streaming from his mouth that Gabriel could not understand, and blood, blood, thick and red and dark, staining the left sleeve of Jake’s favourite jacket.
Gabriel glanced over at Jake again. Jake’s eyes were red, his lips red and swollen from crying, his bandaged hand positioned awkwardly on his lap. He was staring out of the window with dull eyes, watching the sky and trees and road stream past without registering it.
He should say something. He could say that they were nearly home. He could say that they could get Jake a new jacket. He could say that everything would be alright, he’d make it alright, and he could stop the car and hug Jake and make sure that Jake knew that he’d try his hardest to make sure everything was alright.
Gabriel’s hand twitched on the steering wheel, but he didn’t move it.
He didn’t know how to say anything, so drove on in silence.