A/N For the first part I've listened to Vices, from Dead Poetics, I highly suggest you do the same :)
Chapter 32) Facing demons of our past
.-.-.
Polly half expected her family to be sat at the dinner table. Her plan had been too passive aggressively spend the entire evening ignoring her two oldest nephews and bite off their heads if they dared to make any comment on her childish behavior.
But when she came home, only Ada and Finn looked up from their plate. Clearly the two of them had been left to fend for themselves, considering Ada's horrific attempt to prepare dinner.
"Where's the rest?"
"Hi to you too Pol, I had a lovely day thank you for asking," Ada retorted, picking on a scorched potato, "they're all out. John's gone off to the Chinese market, probably shagging that Asian hooker. Not sure where Arthur and Tommy are though."
Polly hummed, considering filling a plate with Ada's poor attempt for dinner, then settled with a glass of wine.
"Finn, be a dear and go play in the yard," Polly ordered the youngest of the Shelby clan once the boy had finished his meal, "Ada and I need to talk."
Finn knew better than to test Polly's patience, not when she had that look in her eyes and had a glass of wine in her hand.
"I took her to the cinema again," Ada began, "she's a bit wimpy about boxing," she scoffed and rolled her eyes, "I can't believe of all people you made me spy and backstab this beacon of innocence."
"She's not that innocent, she nearly cut Russo's cock off," Polly spat before her common sense could stop her.
Ada's jaw dropped, "She what?"
"Not the point," Polly hissed through her teeth, cursing herself for being so lax with sharing details, "do you think she trusts you?"
"Pol, I'm the younger sister of the Shelby brothers, there is not a mortal in this city that trusts me," Ada retorted, picking on her ruined food. There was some pride gleaming from her eyes though. Ada's last name was her free pass to roam through their city without having to worry about being harassed or follow any rules. She indeed was the little sister everyone knew about and as the rebellious young woman she was, Ada loved to milk that.
"She doesn't trust me, but she considers me a friend," Ada shared thoughtful, "to be honest, I feel sorry for her. She's not like us Pol, she's much softer, easier to bend and break."
That was exactly the part of her that Polly despised. Maria's virtuous overall appearance stood out in a damned city such as Small Heath. It made her desirable.
In particular, it made her desirable to someone like Tommy. As the backbone of the family, he'd been molded into acting out towards those weaker.
And this damsel in distress put a bloody spell on him; he'd gone bonkers ever since she got him out of the stables. A pharmacy, first a bloody bakery, which in all fairness made sense, but now a pharmacy for some idiotic, completely ludicrous plan to expand business. Arthur had been particularly vague about how a pharmacy could contribute to Tommy's cocaine empire and she hadn't bothered to ask, because she'd been fuming.
It was absolutely ridiculous that Tommy acted without even considering her opinion. Before the war, she'd been his right hand and vice versa, together weighing off their options and possible plans for the future.
But now… he made her feel as if she was the working-class wench, being left in the dark while that little bitch joined every meeting.
"Pol, don't take this the wrong way, but aren't you overreacting?" Ada dared to ask. "It's one very plain, very mediocre girl. She has no voice-"
"-That's where you're mistaken," Polly cut her off, "she is his voice." She spat with so much venom she actually scared herself. It wasn't simply envy she felt towards the girl, it was her coping mechanism. It was easier to hate Maria than to mourn for the Tommy they'd lost.
Maria embodied Tommy's handicap, because she'd taken over his deep, gravelly voice. Tommy's choice of words now sounded soft spoken, young and feminine.
And every time Maria shifted into her role as Tommy's speaker and talked for him, it was as if she tore old wounds open.
"Keep an eye on her and keep her in line," Polly spat at her niece.
Ada only shook her head and snorted, dropping dirty dishes in even dirtier water.
"Aye, captain. I'll be her fucking shadow and suck up to her. She'll be eating out of the palm of my hand, just relax let me handle this," Her niece announced with an elevated smile, "now, I made dinner, so someone else can do the dishes," Ada blew her a kiss and quickly ran upstairs before Polly could respond.
Polly looked at the warzone, previously known as their kitchen, and slipped out a few old Romani curses. For a moment, she picked up a sponge and made a half-hearted attempt to scrape the burnt potato remains from the bottom of her favourite skillet.
'Fuck it,' she thought and threw the ruined cast iron pan into the sink and took the bottle of wine from the counter. At least Ada had failed to damage everything in the kitchen. She opened up a window to allow fresh air to cast out the stench of Ada's failed dinner.
Polly bit off the cork and sat down on the small space of the countertop that hadn't been touched by her niece's awful attempt at being a housewife.
Huddling herself in a blanket of self-pity and brooding thoughts, she didn't hear the sounds of keys being shoved into the front door's lock.
It took her half a glass before she even noticed Tommy stumbling into the kitchen. Still holding his keys her nephew doubled over, reflectively putting out his good arm and caught the armrest of their leather Morris chair to prevent himself from falling face first onto the floor.
He was drunk as a fiddler.
"Tommy, Jesus!" Polly breathlessly exclaimed, lowering herself from her kitchen throne, placing her glass on the counter.
Tommy seemed vaguely aware of her presence and gave her a guilty, yet smug, grin.
B-u-s-t-e-d, he finger spelled stiffly with the fingers of his confined right hand. His left was still holding him up. With eyes rolling back into his skull Tommy's knees buckled and he barely was able to shove himself onto the cushions of the Morris chair.
It used to be their father's chair, one of the last reminders of his tyranny. Polly had mentioned more than once to get rid of the damn thing. But the three eldest declined. She never understood why the boys wanted to keep the ugly thing. As time passed, the boys would occasionally take a seat on their father's chair, digging their fingertips into the worn leather. Tommy once put his cigarette out on the arm rest and Arthur kicked the thing all over their living room after a bar fight gone bad.
Polly had started to understand their need to keep the damned chair. It was because they could, because they were in charge of the house now. None of the boys ever spoke about their father; Ada was the only one willing to occasionally talk about their disastrous upbringing. As a young girl, she would accidently slip fragments of both the physical and emotional torture they endured by the hands of their own father.
The chair had been their father's pride, off limits and to even so much as look at it was enough cause to be punched in the face. With a fist; their father did not give discipline lightly.
The remnant of their father's chair was an ultimate fuck you to their tormentor. A reminder to the boys that they could sit in the damn thing.
"You're drunk," Polly stated unable to keep the disappointment from her voice.
Tommy laughed, but it was cold. Loosening his tie and unbuttoning the first two buttons of his shirt, he craned his head towards her and gave her the long and stern look that she hated so much.
The resemblance to his father was uncanny, it plagued him, they both knew he didn't want to be anything like that damned devil. But it was there, it was all there. Although the booze blurred his vision, the deep seated stoic gaze was present.
"Didn't the doctor specifically tell you to, at least have another week of bed rest?" Polly pointed out cynically.
Tommy scoffed, mockingly raising his eyebrows and practically begging to be slapped across the face for being such an utter little shit.
Although the evidence of Russo's beating nearly left his face, he was already back onto the desolated road of complete self-destruction.
Polly noticed she was the subject of Tommy's observations, although a large amount of alcohol rushed through his system, his icy blue eyes were still alert and focused on her.
It was sad really, how second nature that was for him; being alert, pragmatic, always on edge and ready for the worst. The war had magnified those traits, but they had been embedded into his soul from a very young age.
Again, their father was again to thank for all that. For some reason it had seemed to affect Tommy the most. Although Arthur was the oldest, Tommy had taken on the role as his sibling's keeper. Arthur had taken on most of the beatings, but their father at least had some kind of respect for his oldest son.
Tommy only seemed to summon up his loathing. Maybe it was because of Tommy's sense of responsibility that made their father target him the most. Maybe Tommy's utter devotion to protecting his family made their father see his own negligence.
Whatever Arthur Senior's reasoning was to treat Tommy with such little respect, it left a mark on the young man sitting across Polly.
With his cold and callous ways, he subconsciously forced himself into being a man his father might be able to admire. Tommy wouldn't confess it if he'd been held at gunpoint, but somewhere deep down there was still a small boy inside with a desperate desire to please his abusive father.
Tommy's forced on callous characteristics went straight against his real nurturing nature, but Polly knew better then to mention Tommy's soft side, because in his eyes that made him weak.
And if he thought that other people might consider him weak, he'd raise up his walls so high it would take weeks to reach him again.
It was a constant war, behind those icy blues. And a damn struggle to guide, because the moment Tommy considered letting you in, his father's iron fist would push you right out.
It was a constant battle between giving him a shoulder to cry on, or being cold and inconsiderate.
How do you express your love to someone whose first instinct is to withdraw in panic?
Because how can someone love him, if his own mother barely defended him and his own father considered him weak and useless? Polly couldn't understand why their upbringing was the heaviest on Tommy's shoulders. Sure, Arthur, John, Ada and young Finn were affected by their past, but not like Tommy. Once they buried their mother, all had been able to adapt to Polly's strict but fair rules. All the Shelby siblings simply accepted Polly as the new head of their household.
But not Tommy, he'd take every rule to the test, make everything into an argument, test her limits and at times make her want to pack up and leave.
And he'd always throw that at her feet, once he knew he'd pushed her far enough to strangle him with his own tie.
Leave, he'd tell her, because you're not our mother, we're not your responsibility, so leave if you want.
At times she wanted too. At times she'd honestly gone up the stairs, dragged out her suitcase and started packing up.
But there had always been a good reason to stay. Sometimes it was Finn's frantic cries, Ada's desperate pleads, either John or Arthur telling her Tommy was sorry.
Tommy never said it himself; he'd silently brood alongside her for a couple of days, observing her as she'd unpack her suitcase. He'd ignore her for a while and then casually start speaking to her as if nothing happened.
She'd been taken to the limit, time after time, because Tommy honestly couldn't believe anyone would want to stay. Not with them, not with the offspring of Nee and Arthur Sr. Shelby.
Even now, after all these years, Polly still hadn't fully passed his test, because right now he was trying to push her away again.
By being cold and careless, unlovable and a drunk, just like his father.
Tommy's lips stiffened as he reached into his pocket to collect an envelope.
The letter was discretely sealed with candle wax and had her name on it, written in his immaculate handwriting. It must have hurt him, to use his right hand.
Placing the envelope on their coffee table, Tommy tsked and pushed himself onto both feet. Without blinking or a sign of goodbye he uncaringly staggered off, leaving Polly startled on top of their counter.
Tommy's laid out letter was thoughtfully torn and Polly pulled out the letter:
Dear Pol,
To be straight forward, I'm never going to speak again. There isn't a cure; there isn't a pill, a therapy, a gypsy ritual to give me back my speech. The doctor explained to me in the hospital that there is a part in my brain so damaged I'm unable to ever utter a single syllable. This is what I am now; this is all I can be. And this is my burden to bare. I'm disabled, incomplete and damaged.
This however, doesn't give you the right to look at me like you do, every day. You look at me as if I'm in a coffin, not breathing, dead. You don't have to right to act like it's my funeral, every damn day.
I'd also like to address that I've postponed my death wish. So you no longer should feel the need to hold my hand all the fucking time.
I'm already broken, but that doesn't mean I will break.
If you want me back protecting our kin, you need to give me space and give this speechless Tommy the benefit of the doubt. One day, he'll hopefully be good enough.
Don't mention this letter tomorrow morning, not to anyone, because it's better for them not to know the truth. Burn it and if you need to, consider it the cremation of the old Tommy.
This is the best and all I can be,
Sincerely,
Thomas M. Shelby.
.-.-.
"He bought you a bloody horse," Ada sulked for the third time, "a horse. Do you know what he gave me for my birthday? New shoes, I'm his sister, by blood. You're his, what's the word again? Speaker and you get a horse." A plagued sighed escaped the throat of the mopping young woman next to Maria.
A few days passed and news had spread fast. Too fast to Maria's liking, since she was planning to keep Precious a secret from her mum and sisters.
Tommy's reasoning for getting her the young stallion back was still beyond her, and although she was in utter bliss about it, she knew her mother wouldn't consider it as a 'simple' present.
Because honestly, what right in the head employer would give a working-class girl a horse?
And although Maria was almost certain there wasn't a catch, her mother wouldn't think of this lightly. No, her mum would probably think she'd sold her soul to those gypsy devils.
So the less her mother and sisters knew, the better. She already had a hard time making up lie after lie to keep her family in the dark about the true nature of her job.
It was hard, the constant lying and keeping up a blank face.
"You know he's just using you right?" Ada shared, deliberately picking harsh words, "you're a simple tool to him."
Maria hummed, partly agreeing and partly not. Ada's statement didn't surprise her, but it caught her attention. There was a jealous undertone behind her sharp remark. Ada envied the way Tommy treated her and that could lead her into a dangerous position. As Ada had claimed a few times before, she was a Shelby too, which gave her power and the upper hand.
Deciding to stay on Ada's good side, Maria diplomatically agreed.
"You're right, I don't matter at all," she spoke steadying her steps to keep up with Ada's rapid tempo.
Her answer earned her an approving glance from the other young women, who quickly continued with their previous chit-chat.
"I'm so thrilled for Tommy's party," Ada exclaimed for the tenth time since she'd picked Maria up from home, "we are going to look superb, sensational!" She promised, tapping on her small purse, "and don't worry about pennies girl, it's going on my brother's account."
Maria lacked Ada's spirit, the thought of spending an evening inside the Shepherd was just about the last thing on her mind. But nobody asked her opinion, so she didn't have a choice but to try and share Ada's passion and go dress shopping.
"Have you ever had anything stronger than tea?" Ada questioned. "Oh, let me guess, no. I bet you've never even been tipsy before," the girl added amused.
"I once had a bit of Brandy when I had a toothache," Maria threw in as response, "and a sip of wine when I was with Tommy."
Ada snorted and clasped her shoulders playfully: "Oh you sweet summer child, you're in for a blast. Since we're back to being dear friends, we should celebrate and drink and dance the night away!" Ada twirled on her heels and swayed on her feet to give her words more power. "You and I girl, we are going to drink ourselves silly, let's spoil some of your virtue."
Maria's aversion towards Tommy's welcome back party seemed to grow by the minute.
"I can't stay too long; I have a curfew, my mother-"
"-Curfew?!" Ada cut her off, "Jesus, how old are you, five? If you think your mommy will be a problem, we'll just fix that problem." Ada pulled her cigarettes from her purse and lit one. "Here, you take one and keep the rest; you'll need them at the party."
Obediently Maria did what was ordered and stored the package in her pocket.
Just when she thought her day couldn't possible get any worse Uncle Walter turned around the corner. He noticed her immediately and his face spoke volumes, he was mad enough to chew nails and spit rivets.
Maria's first reaction was to run, but she was rooted to the spot. Uncle Walter detected her fright and with a malicious screwed up face paced towards her.
Ada also noticed the sudden change in her bearing and it didn't take her long to put two and two together.
Before uncle Walter had time to get his hands on Maria and probably choke the life out of her Ada stepped in, placing herself within the line of fire.
"Excuse me, but could you possibly sod off?" The impertinent girl spat, while Maria's uncle towered over her.
Walter Pratt was visibly shocked by the audacity of the young woman facing up at him. It took him a moment to recognize who it was who dared to speak to him with such little respect. It was Ada's last name that was preventing Walter Pratt from viciously slapping the Shelby girl across the face.
"Before you open that mangled mouth of yours, better remember who gave you that smile in the first place," Ada piped in, "and before you start insulting my friend, remember who I am and who's she's with."
Walter Pratt gnashed the teeth he still had, eyes nearly popping out of their sockets. His hands balled into fists, but as Ada's words sank in, he unballed them, shoving them deep inside his pockets.
Without speaking a word Walter Pratt moved around the two girls and picked up his pace.
"Isn't it lovely when your best friend is a Shelby?" Ada beamed; unbothered by the glance of utter hatred she'd received from the brutish man.
"Now, let's buy things to makes us prettier!"
.-.-.
A/N: I love Ada; I think she'd do wonderful in Mean Girls. This chapter turned out a lot longer than I intended. It should have been a simple filler for the next one. But for some reason I suddenly felt the need to explain a little more about MuteTommy and address why and how he turned out to be so cold and callous. I'm interested in psychology and know because of some personal experiences how hard it is to deal with a person who's struggling to bond with someone else. I also like how in Polly's POV we got a little more depth on how/why she despises Maria.
Next chapter is going to be as Ada put it, superb!
Xoxox Nukyster
