Tuesday, May 5th 2015

Jack stared down at his phone, his thumb hovering over the green "accept" button. His father was calling. Jack hadn't spoken to him since the last time he had been home—the night he had left. He hadn't forgotten the look in his father's eyes when he had stumbled into his room that night as he packed. He couldn't. There was something sad and pathetic about the way he had half-pleaded with Jack, covered in bruises and smelling of alcohol.

And now, a few weeks after leaving his parents' home, after cutting ties and running away to find freedom, here he was. Staring at his father's name on the screen, frozen in place.

Jack shoved his headphones in and reluctantly accepted the call. He braced himself, but when the call connected, the screen was black.

'Hello?'

'Jack, is that ewe?' his father's voice boomed through the phone, startling him.

'Jaysus,' Jack muttered under his breath, pulling the phone away from his ear, wincing at the volume.

'Jack, con's atá tú?'

Jack's eyes fluttered closed for a second. 'I'm good. Hi. Can you move the phone in front of you?'

'Whah?' his father shouted again, clearly confused.

'I can't see you. Put the phone in front of you,' Jack repeated, trying not to sound impatient.

There was some fumbling, and then his father's face appeared on the small screen, but the camera angle was all wrong—pointed down at his chin and neck. Jack winced. He wasn't sure if this was better or worse than their last interaction. At least his father wasn't physically confronting him this time.

'Jack! There you are. What's this yoke? How can I see you?' His father's voice was laced with the same clumsy confusion Jack had heard all his life, but this time it felt more... tired. He was trying, Jack realized, even if it wasn't perfect.

'It's a video call,' Jack said, his voice softer now.

'Jaysus, how'd you do dah?' his father exclaimed.

'You called me,' Jack muttered, his anxiety still bubbling under the surface. Why was he so nervous? This wasn't the first time they'd spoken. But everything had changed since he left home. Everything.

'Jaysus, technology's mad, in't it?' his father laughed, the sound strange and disorienting in Jack's ears.

'Yeah,' Jack replied quietly, staring at the ceiling, his nerves clawing at him. 'Everything okay?'

His father's expression changed slightly. The usual mask of gruffness seemed to slip for a moment, and Jack could feel the tension rising in his own chest.

'Just a few updates, I shuppose,' his father said, a hesitancy in his voice. Jack's heart skipped a beat. It felt like déjà vu—the last time he had heard this tone in his father's voice, everything had spiraled. Was something else going to happen? Was someone dead?

'Oh?' Jack said, trying to sound casual, but his voice cracked slightly.

'Me and your mudder...' his father began, the words trailing off awkwardly. Jack stiffened, his heart thudding in his ears. This couldn't be good. 'We're going to take a bit of a break, I tink.'

Jack's breath caught in his throat. He hadn't expected that. Not from his father. He had been anticipating an argument, or some fight, or worse. Divorce? Separation? His parents' relationship had always been a shadow hanging over their home, but now, it felt like it was finally crumbling. 'Oh,' he said, the word feeling hollow and wrong.

'She's... I'm... we both have a few issues we need to work on,' his father continued. Jack kept his eyes on the phone screen, but it was hard to focus. His father was still speaking, but it felt as if everything around him had gone quiet. 'She's moved out,' his father said, and Jack felt an odd sense of relief—relief that his mother was gone, relief that the tension in his life would be lighter without her.

'To where?' Jack asked before he could stop himself, but then immediately felt a pang of guilt. Why did he care? Where was she? He didn't know anymore.

'She's shtaying with her sist-ur. The pair of them collected her things from the house the other night. She won't be back.' His father's voice dropped.

Jack was silent for a moment. He had expected some sort of fight, some yelling, maybe even his mother coming after him again. But none of that had happened. He had only wished for this day to come—the day when he didn't have to pretend anymore.

'Whatcha mean? Like, are ye getting a divorce?' Jack's voice was almost a whisper.

'I'd say so,' his father replied softly, 'ya.'

'Good,' Jack said, the words slipping out before he could catch them. He immediately regretted it. He felt an odd mix of relief and guilt. His mother was still his mother, but this wasn't about her anymore. It was about Jack finding a way forward.

'Well, I'm going away for a while too,' his father added, pulling Jack out of his thoughts. Jack's stomach tightened again. 'A shen-tur in Galway.'

'A centre?' Jack repeated, his brow furrowing in confusion. His father sounded so different now, almost meek.

'Yeah. I've just finished packing, so I have. I'll be gone for a few weeks. That's why I wanted to call you.'

Jack didn't know how to process this. His father needed help. Jack had always known it, but hearing it out loud—he wasn't ready for it. 'What kind of centre? What are you talking about?' he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

'For the drink, Jack,' his father said quietly. 'I need to get help.'

The words sank in, and Jack didn't know what to say. His father had always been strong in a way that confused Jack. But now... now he wasn't sure what to think.

'What about the farm?' Jack asked, his voice almost unintentionally harsh, and he immediately regretted the question. The farm? Of course, the farm was the least of his worries, but it still hung over him. Was he supposed to go back? Was he supposed to take care of everything now?

'Don't worry,' his father reassured him, his voice a little more firm. 'Thatssh not why I'm callin' ya. You can shtay in Dublin. I've got all that sorted. It's time I get myshelf fixed. Ninety days.'

'That's a long time,' Jack muttered, his heart pounding in his chest. His father wasn't the man he had always thought he was. He was trying. Trying to fix himself. But Jack wasn't sure if he could believe it yet.

'I know,' his father replied. 'No contact with the world for the firsht two weeks at leasht. It's meant to help you avoid distraction. But don't worry, I've arranged to get out on day release with a chaperone to vote.'

'Oh?' Jack didn't know what else to say.

'You can come visit after a month... if you want,' his father added.

Jack didn't respond immediately. 'Text me the name of the place,' he said, his voice quiet.

'I will. Look,' his father said, the words coming slower now, 'I know things have been a bit weird the lasht while, but I promise I want to fix things. With your mudder, and Mick. Alcohol was all I had to shtay with her. But I had to protect you. But you're all grown up now. You can take care of yourself. And now I need to take care of myself.'

Jack nodded, though his father couldn't see it. He didn't know what to say. There was too much to process, too many years of confusion, too many years of silence. And now, it was as if everything was crashing down at once.

'I left a shpare key under the mat at the back door if you are home between now and then. And there's an envelope on the kitchen table for you.'

'OK,' he replied, unsure of how to respond, overwhelmed with a mix of emotions.

'I love you, Jack,' his father said, his voice almost unrecognizable. Jack felt the weight of the words, but he couldn't say them back—not yet.

'Thanks,' Jack said quietly, hanging up the phone.

The silence that followed was heavier than the words. Jack sat with the phone in his hand, feeling both relief and guilt swirl inside him. There was still so much to figure out, so much to heal. But this was a step. Maybe the first real one toward understanding what it meant to be a family—what it meant to be his family.