Chapter 1 of Turning Blood

Chapter 1- The Only Woman I Love Is My Mum…



I sighed loudly out of mixed exasperation and annoyance.
“Be reasonable, Chelsea”
“Be reasonable, Adam,” she mimicked angrily. “This relationship has been completely one-sided since it began. I can’t believe I’ve even hung around for so long.”
Two months. Every day of it faked on my part. Rather than being in a relationship, I felt like I was in an agreed partnership of some kind. We just happened rather than the normal arrangement of one asking another out. All of a sudden, we were together. I don’t know why I kept it up, but I just did. Glutton for punishment, I guess.
She scowled and folded her gangly arms across her chest, reminding me of a giraffe. I stared at her blankly, not bothering to keep up the charade any longer. “You never even touched me at all. I wanted you too. I’m not frigid, you know. Any guy in this school would be more than willing to give up his place on the basketball team just to get it with me, and I‘d let them.”
Such humility. Yup.
“We don’t even like the same people,” She argued. “I see you roll your eyes every time I want to get together with my friends. You‘d prefer to hang around with Jack the streaking psycho.”
Oh no, she didn’t’t.
I began, quite calmly. “You’re friends are boring as hell. Any conversation with them usually revolves around their cars or where daddy’s taking them on holiday or how drunk they got and screwed some idiot. I’ve never touched you because I don’t want to be a typical sex-crazed teenager, and then maybe even have you running from me claiming rape, and frankly, I think you’re too damned skinny for your age. You look like a 12 year old, which doesn’t help with the rape thing. And don’t bring Jack onto this. He does more for me than you ever have. In every way possible.”
That wasn’t exactly true, but it was enough to send her to tears.
“You’re such a dipshit! Why didn’t I listen to Katie when she told me to stay away from you?”
With that, she stormed back into her house, thin limbs jerking, blonde hair fluttering, and slammed the door shut behind her. And that’s the end of that fiasco.

I walked down the street to where Jack was parked in his Beetle, and got into the passenger side. He looked at me from the corner of his eyes. “And?”
“And nothing. She dumped me. Let’s go. “
He started the car and began on the way towards my house. He flicked the radio to an old 80’s song and sang along to the chorus: “Play the game, everybody play the game…”
He looked back at me, and I could feel his eyes looking for signs of distress in my face.
“Are you sure you’re not going to curl up in your bed and wallow over the weekend? Maybe you need a girl’s night in. Popcorn, nail polish. We can talk about boys and tampons-” I knew where he was going and I aimed to slap him hard on the back of his head, but, expecting it, he dodged quickly without taking his eyes off the road. He laughed his high-pitched cackle, making me laugh too.
“No but seriously dude. I knew that this was going to be just another one of those girls that think ‘Oh he’s so cute he’s so sweet I bet he goes a mile a minute’, then they realise you’re not just another jock because you don’t like their friends or their music or anything to do with them. Those girls at our school, they’re… they’re not normal. Kind of…puppets…” He ranted on.
It’s true. Girls had come and gone for me and meant nothing much. On the odd occasion that they were attractive, smart or funny, none of them had given me the feeling of really wanting to be with them. It was just companionship. I didn‘t care about any of them. Not to mention that they were all looser than an untied shoelace. I didn’t want that.
“That’s it. That’s the solution. We need to find you an older woman. They’ve got more dignity! More allure!”
“Yeah, sure buddy.” I chuckled and brushed his comment off. “So what’s doing Saturday night?”
Jack ran a hand through his hair to mess it up. It was a habit he had.
“Well, mum’s not going to be home because she’s off to china for the month. That would make my house empty so we’ll be gathering there. Not sure if I want to invite anyone else. Maybe save that for your birthday, huh?”
“I guess,” I mumbled.
Saturday two weeks from now was my eighteenth birthday and Jack, my best friend and cousin, had long been planning an out of control party for me, trying to get hold of all sorts of illegal substances and ‘entertaining people’. I’m not one for parties, and especially not since my fifteenth birthday three years ago, when my dad disappeared without a trace. It was just too eerie to celebrate that day anymore. But I let Jack have his fun. After all, you’re only eighteen once.
“Yeah, we‘ll save it for then. Besides, I don‘t really feel like doing anything this weekend.”
He looked over at me, concerned at my extreme monotone. I didn’t usually put much variation in my voice, but he heard it straight up whenever there was something hidden in my speech.
“Dude, you sure you’re ok?”
I hesitated before I spoke. “It’s just this dirty feeling. I’ve wasted my time with yet another girl, gotten nowhere, and I don’t feel guilty for her, regardless of how much she cries. What’s wrong with me? I don’t want to be just another bastard. I want to have someone I feel for… Listen to me. I sound like a woman.”
“Well we’re all entitled to have sissy moments,” he began, “and yours is justified. You want someone to love. That doesn’t mean there’s something wrong with you. It just means there’s something good about you.”
Sometimes, the way he understood and empathised with me shocked my eyes right out of their sockets. It’s true, we’d been best friends since we were children and we’d seen each other practically everyday. He gave me advice about girls, I stopped him from drinking too much. He brought out my wild side, I made sure he toned it down when need be. We were polar opposites, and it worked well for us. But the only way people should be able to understand each other like that is if they’re romantically involved - which we definitely weren’t. He may think he bats for both teams but I only bat for women.
We arrived at my house. I clapped him on the back. “See you tomorrow, buddy.”
The house was an old wood style from the 1920’s, the white paint on the outside flaking like dried skin. Mum said it was original and that the flakes gave it character, made it look a little more homely and less foreboding. But I think deep down she saw it for what it really was: a shack. The only reason she didn’t sell it, or even paint it, was because of the emotional attachment. This is the house my dad and her had lived their entire married life. My brother and I were both born into this house. It was where all the history was. Now that dad was gone, I think the value of the house shot right up in her eyes.
Like I said, dad had been missing for the last 3 years. We weren’t sure that he was dead, but he may as well have been. When the police went to his diving shop to investigate, his truck was still parked in the loading bay at the back. His wallet was still in the top drawer of the desk in the shop’s back room, where he always kept it. There was no damage to the store whatsoever. There were too many loose ends to the whole thing. We first realized he was missing when he didn’t come home from work. He was never late home, always rushing back to plant a tender kiss on my mum’s lips and hi-five my younger brother and I.

Opening the front door, I heard the sounds of virtual gunshot coming from Kristian’s room. My brother seemed to have a good thing going with his video games – he played, they obeyed. The smell of my mum’s cooking filled my lungs and sent my taste buds into frenzy. Fried pork chops tonight – my favorite.
“Hi guys,” I called
“Hi, Adasz,” they replied in unison. Adasz was a Polish nickname for Adam. It was also one of my great-grandfather’s names chosen for me by my dad, who migrated from Poland when he was 18.
I walked through the lounge room into the kitchen and planted a kiss on my mum’s cheek.
“Hey, ma.”
“Hi, sweety. How was school? How’d you go with your test?”
“Yeah. It was fine. Nothing too complicated.”
My mother laughed. “Doesn’t sound that way. You look like you’ve just failed the whole subject.”
I knew I’d aced it, but I’d had humility driven into my head by my father for a long time. Boastfulness wasn’t allowed in this house.
I smiled at the floor. “No, it was fine. I just hope I don’t say that and really do end up with 2 out of 20.”
“I’m sure you did well. You’re a smart boy.” She handed me a bowl salad. “Set the dinner table and call you brother.”

As we ate at the tiny dining table, I could feel my mother’s hazel eyes analysing me. I knew what she was thinking. Adam, are you ok?
“Adam, honey? Is everything alright?” Close enough.
I nodded vaguely without looking at her. “Yeah. I’m just kinda...” I shrugged.
“Did she break up with you?”
Ugh. “Yeah.”
She rested her hand lightly on my shoulder.”Sweety, it’s probably for the best. You didn’t seem too happy with her anyway. And honestly, I really don’t think she’s right for you.”
“Because she’s blonde?”
She smiled cheekily.
“Well, I’m actually not really bothered about her much. It’s just...the same situation again. It’s getting kind of old.”
She took her last mouthful of salad and chewed while she thought. Sensing emotion, Kristian interrupted. “Am I needed anymore?” Only thirteen, and he lived for his video games.
My mum ruffled his hair. “No. Go do your homework.”
“Can I just finish this –“
I poked him in the side of his head. “Go do your homework, buddy.” He groaned and left.
Helping my mum wash and dry the dishes, she continued on the subject.
“Sweety, you need to stop doing this to yourself. You can’t really blame anyone else for it. It’s you forcing yourself into these relationships. And you know you’re never happy from the beginning. It’s happened enough times already. Keep it up, and I’m sure you’ll end up burnt out or asexual or something.” I chuckled at that last one.
How would she understand where I was coming from with this? Of course she’d had Dad, but they meet over 20 years ago. Now that Dad was gone, Mum refused to date. How would she understand that that’s what I wanted? I wanted the one that would end all doubts.
I paused my wiping for a moment.
“Mum...how did you...when...” I groaned in frustration and closed my eyes. “What did it for you? What made you think ‘this is him, this is the other piece of my puzzle’? I mean, was it obvious for you straight away, or did it take time?” I doubt I made much sense, but she understood me. A dreamy look spread across her face.
“I was one of the lucky ones. Your father and I met at someone’s birthday party. I was 18. Very clean Italian girl, standing awkwardly in the corner. I was probably the tallest girl there. He was 19, tall as well, skin like a doll, messy hair and an adorable foreign accent, making everyone around him laugh at how poor his English was. He loved the attention.” She let out a hearty laugh. “He stopped talking for 2 seconds between the laughter and happened to look directly at me. All I could do was stare, but he gave me the most breath-taking smile, and I knew that every bad thing about boys that my mother had ever told me just flew out the window.” The look on her face now was beyond dreams. She wasn’t with me anymore. She was back there in 1991, at that party, staring at my 19 year old Dad.
“I was so aware of his every move after that. I watched him. He left his admirers and came over to me with a drink. I managed a smile this time. But as he handed my drink to me, our fingers brushed, and I honestly felt like I’d been winded. It was such a shock that I actually dropped my drink. I looked back up at him and he looked like he couldn’t breathe either. It was the strangest feeling ever, but I still remember it as though it has just happened. That feeling of his skin never left my memory” By this time, she looked almost hypnotised. I watched her face, astonished by the passion that was radiating from her. She’d never told me that story. That was one I would certainly remember.
One tear rolled down her face as she came back to reality. I remembered now why I didn’t ever mention anything to do with Dad. Mum was strong, until it came to him. “And then that was it. I was his. He was mine. Not even that. We were ours. We just were. As though we always had been one.” She gasped and let her tears fall freely. I knew how much she hated to appear weak in front of us. She wanted us to rely on her, not the other way around. I pulled her into tight hug, looking away from her crying face. I hurt me so much to watch my mother cry. But what was I meant to say to her? It’ll be ok? Well it probably wouldn’t. He wasn’t going to come back.
She looked up into my eyes and sniffed. “Adam, don’t settle for just anything. What your father and I have- had- our love has never wavered. This is how love should be. I want you to have that too. She’ll come to you, she will. Just be patient. You’re still young. It’ll happen though. Just wait.”
I kissed the top of her head. “I know, ma.”

We finally finished off the dishes and I went into my room and closed the door, intending to study. I sat down at my desk and took my biology book out of my bag. I flipped it open to the homework page. I stared for a moment, shut the book, and lay down on my bed. Glancing idly around my room, I decided just to let the homework slide for tonight, and I put one my dad’s old CDs into the CD-player. This particular song seemed so morbid to me when I’d first heard it, but after listening to it a few times, I realised just why my dad had dedicated it to my mum at their wedding. I lay back and let the CD play through all the tracks, and I wondered about what my mum had said to me. Why did I feel that need for someone else? Most guys my age would be running around with multiple girls hanging at their legs. Like Jack. He had a different favourite every month, and a few on the side. He was always with a different girl, told her he loved her, made her feel special and got rid of her. He seemed to think nothing of it. Am I just a needy? I’m not close to many people, but that’s by choice. Is that choice catching up with me? Is that why sometimes when I think about loneliness too much I feel the urge to end myself –
OK, stop there. That train of thought was just getting stupid. I’m needy, like a woman. Maybe I should’ve been born a woman. Maybe that’s why I’m so close to my mum.
The mood of the music carried me to sleep. I dreamt.
My dad was there. I hadn’t dreamt of him for at least a year. His face was blank, a look I never saw on him. He kept walking toward me apologising for abandoning us. But I kept backing away, afraid of him. My fear evolved into anger and hatred. I picked up a stick and threw it him. It missed him, but he just dissolved into the floor.
My eyes flew open, and I exhaled loudly.
“Shit.” The clock radio read 1:03. I wasn’t drowsy enough to go back to sleep.