The Fear Of Faith [2]

16. Cal

'Feeling a little better?' Tori asked with a smile.

'Yeah, a lot,' I said as I continued with my sketch.

The week had been tough. I'd been working early morning until late night and not seen Bethan since the argument at the weekend. I'd wandered into our room a few times to take a look at her when she was sleeping and it killed me to have to walk back out and take myself to the sofa but she had chosen to continue this silence between us and if it's what she wanted then she could have it.

I'd sulked all week and with Charlie being away on vacation for the week, it left Tori and I alone. It was something I dreaded at first; her voice was screechy and annoying and she talked about stupid shit like her latest Botox treatment or milkshake diet. Once she realised I was in no mood to go along with her conversation, she stopped and tried to talk to me about what was wrong.

I'd stayed closed up and told her to mind her own business but after a couple of days I was starting to really feel myself getting down about it. I thought Bethan would have caved and jumped on me the second I walked in the door by now, but she hadn't. It was so unlike her and I was starting to think that maybe I was losing her altogether; maybe I was pushing her right to that guy.

I couldn't hold my thoughts back and I ended up spilling it all to Tori. She didn't say much but she listened a lot. I was thinking she felt a little guilty that it had been her idea to drive to the party that night.

Eventually, Tori tried her best to reassure me things would be okay and gave me the advice she thought would help bring Bethan back around. I wasn't planning on taking it but I was feeling thankful that she was trying to help.

She spent the rest of the week trying her utmost hardest to make me laugh and keep me distracted everyday. I helped her with her designs and she helped me with mine, bringing new perspectives to my ideas that I hadn't thought of myself and I was actually enjoying working with her as well as coming out with some really great finished pieces.

By Friday, my opinions of Tori had changed a lot. I had always thought she was cool but I saw her as a colleague and a great artist; now, I felt like I could call her a friend. Working alone without Charlie there had shown her in a different light and she was actually a great girl and I learned so much about her.

She lived right here in Brooklyn not far from the shop. She had grown up in foster care and was passed around homes and families in Washington until she turned eighteen when she bolted from her hometown and headed to New York in the hopes of making something of herself. She spent a lot of years as a stripper making plenty bucks until she could afford to pay her way onto an art and design course where she met a tattoo artist who offered to train her up. She worked at his shop for two years until business went bust and she came knocking on my door.

She'd had it hard; something I could understand from being taken away from my life at ten years old to be raised in Leiper Falls with my aunt, uncle and cousins. I'd struggled to fit in from day one and spent my time looking for trouble; anything I could think of to do that would hopefully get me taken away from Seamus and Orla. It wasn't that I didn't like them; I just didn't belong there and it wasn't fair on them to take on such a troubled child. I never knew where I wanted to be at that age; I had no idea where I could belong. I wanted Orla to just kick me out so I could board a bus or a train to the first place it was going and fend for myself and stay alone. My family never gave up on me, taking me back time and time again after I was picked up by the police and overtime, I started to realise what family meant.

My parents were drunks and I'd never had a bond with them. I'd grown up hating them and doing everything I could to leave that home. They died in a house fire after one of them drunkenly left the stove on. I was out of the house when it happened. I was also happy when they died. A ten year old child feeling happy to hear his parents are dead is a fucked up thing. Even now, I don't feel any guilt for feeling that way, only pity for the child that was growing up without an inch of feeling inside of him.