The End is Where We Begin by Maria Goodin (best books to read non fiction .TXT) 📗

“You’re done,” I say, when twenty’s up.

The other pairs around us have stopped, but Josh keeps going, lost in the rhythm.

“Stop, you’re done,” I repeat. I take a step back, go to lower the pads, and THUD! a punch comes straight in against the right side of my face.

I’m bent over, stunned, when I see blood dripping onto the floor.

“Whoa!” Rob shouts, running over. “What happened?”

I straighten up, holding the back of my hand against my bloody nose, to find Josh glaring at me, panting. His anger is evident to everyone.

“What the heck, man?” I hear Nicco mumble to Josh.

But Josh just rips off his gloves and throws them to the side of the gym before striding out the door.

“This is ridiculous,” I whisper to Michael as I head out of his neat, modern flat.

“It’ll all pass,” he says quietly, “just give it a few days.”

I look behind him, down the hallway into the lounge where Josh was standing a few seconds ago. But he’s already gone, off to the spare room with a single holdall and his guitar.

“I’ve really screwed this up,” I mutter.

“Don’t go thinking this is all about you,” says Michael, leaning in the doorway. “What he’s going through is massive. His mum getting in contact after all these years… He’s gonna have all kinds of thoughts and feelings going on. Anger, confusion, fear that it won’t work out, fear that it will. He’s processing, and he’s taking it out on you because he knows it’s safe to. You might just have to be his punchbag right now.” He nods at the bruise that’s come up under my right eye and across the bridge of my nose. “Literally.”

“Well, you’re the youth worker, so I’ll take your word for it, but it’s a bit hard to be his punchbag when he’s refusing to even live at home.”

“Look, just give it a couple of days. I’ll try and talk to him.”

I nod and force a grateful smile. My eyes are drawn to the shelf in his hallway, displaying signs of cosy coupledom: two sets of car keys in a glass bowl, a photo of the happy couple on holiday in Thailand… I feel a yearning in my soul for a similar shared life, a shared love.

“And how are you doing?” Michael asks, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Apart from all this stuff with Josh? What about all the other crap?”

I shrug.

I’m tempted to tell him that I think I’m losing my mind, because I know he’ll understand how that feels. I’m tempted to tell him that I’ve lost my sense of self, that I don’t feel sure of who I am anymore, that I keep having nightmares and I have a sense of things spinning out of control, that my breathing’s got bad again… But he’s taken on enough by watching over my son.

“I’m okay,” I lie.

He smiles and shakes his head, sadly.

“Why do you always pretend?” he asks.

Chapter 20

Gone

From my head being empty, now all I seem to do is think and think and think. My feelings are elusive, escaping me every time I try to catch a glimpse of them. I’m just living in my head, asking one question after another.

Am I still me? Am I different now? Who are my wider biological family, my grandparents, aunts, cousins… Does it even matter? Do I even care? How would my dad feel if he understood that I know the truth?

And then, of course, there’s the bigger question: am I going to see Jack before he dies? I know what it’s like to have regrets, to want to tie things up and make them neat before it’s too late. Would I deny another man the peace that I’ve been searching for?

My mum phones several times a day and leaves concerned messages, but I can’t face answering her calls. What am I meant to say? Where would I even begin? I just want her to leave me alone.

And alone I am.

It’s almost two weeks since Josh left. He’s been hopping around between Michael’s, Laura’s and Sam’s places, and although we’re in contact, things are tense between us. I ache for his presence, his laughter, even his backchat. I can’t believe this is happening, that something’s come between us to such an extent that’s he’s actually moved out, that he really has that much anger towards me.

He has to come home soon. The new school year’s started and this just can’t continue. But for a little bit longer I’m willing to let him have his space. In fact, just for now, it’s probably best that he’s not here to see me. I’m lost, shattered, but I don’t want him to know that. I want him to feel I’m here for him – waiting, solid, strong. I don’t want him burdened by my sadness and confusion. And that’s why I’ve chosen not to tell him about my dad, not yet. You might say I haven’t learned my lesson about keeping secrets from him, but I simply can’t throw another thing at him right now.

I pace the quiet, empty flat in the evening, unsure what to do with myself. I was supposed to be staying with my dad for the night while Brenda’s away visiting her sister, but at the last minute, Laura stepped in. Initially I felt grateful, but now I think I could have done with the distraction. My natural reaction in times of stress is to retreat from the world, but tonight I can’t stand being with myself for a moment longer. My instinct is to head to the Canal House and surround myself with familiar faces, but I guess Libby will be there and I don’t know if I can face her. Despite having a million more pressing things to think about, our conversation in the van the other night keeps going round in my mind.

The only thing I regret is losing you…

What made me say that? It was too much.