Hi all, another instalment for you all! I have enjoyed this one. Melissa, the little sh*t stirrer, ha.
Please review as always - I appreciate it!
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7. Ward of Court
The following morning. September 2010.
A home is not always a home. For Philip, this was a life lesson in hardship.
Beyond that front door should have been a life of family values. Mum, dad, a sister, and perhaps a dog too. Instead his journey through the hallway led him to fractured, obliging ties. Sometimes it led him to no one at all.
He clocked Eddie who was sat at the table, accompanying a small child perched in her high chair. His mother, as always, was a chaotic mess. Attempting to spin several metaphorical plates, and failing. Incoherent ramblings left her, although in her mind they made perfect sense. She darted from one corner of the kitchen to another, occupied by business. Erratic; surely reflective of the inner workings of her mind.
The chaos doesn't falter once she spots Philip. He is immediately confronted with nagging - the real sort. Partially misdirected, not understanding that he was almost an adult, not a child. He stood there taking it; there was no need for reasoning or a counter argument for whatever trivial point she was raising. She was hacking away at him, though for Philip, it was in one ear and straight out the next. Eddie, meanwhile, focused his attention on Sophie - any attempt to encourage her to eat. The baby food lay unwanted on the little plastic pink spoon, redundant.
Something in the air rumbled, steaming. Beginning to whistle, but not quite done. Yet this kitchen lacked a kettle. Philip was there, teeth biting his lip. He was on the edge of cracking, boiling almost. His mother couldn't recognise that, even if it slapped her in the face. Nag.
"Mum, just stop."
There it was. His sharp tone - apparent attitude - had caught her by surprise. The cheek.
"Aren't you supposed to be at work?" she quizzed, in an attempt to redirect him; suppress him. After all, he was a child that needed guiding. Not.
"No, not anymore. I got sacked because I was late, again."
His emphasis wasn't lost on her; it sliced through the air. The intonation of his voice, the muted exasperation and pissed off expression that plagued his face. This was the slap she needed. Eddie, meanwhile, gave a silent sigh. His eyes closed. Bracing. The fallout of his conversation with Rachel the previous night had arrived. Philip was here to drop it on them. Eddie couldn't dismiss his own feelings of guilt - hearing Philip had lost his job was a checkmark on him. He failed him. Irritated, Melissa begins to confront. Guard up.
"What are you trying to say, Phil?" Blinded as ever, by her own ignorance.
"That it was your fault I was sacked, and that I'm moving out."
Out of all deliveries, Eddie was surprised at this line. Through the corner of his eye he monitored Melissa's response, while carefully scooping stray food from Sophie's mouth. The pink spoon was the perfect occupier. A slanging match was about to ensue, he was certain.
"What."
"Yeah."
"How naive of you," she began. Philip losing his job wasn't her fault - it was his. He was late. Not her. Melissa naturally had the capability to transfer blame, regardless of circumstance. Ignorance.
"And where the hell are you gonna go?"
Philip prepared himself for the interrogation; the lashings from her were sharpening, defensive and interrogatory.
"A flat."
"Whose flat?"
"What does it matter to you?" His statement was cue to leave the kitchen and begin his first moves. He journeyed to the living room, unplugging his games console. Melissa was hot on his heels, both to sting him and out of mild panic. He was serious.
"And how are you gonna pay for a flat?" she jabbed, as the cables behind the TV clattered; falling out. Stray pieces hit the floor, just as words boiled from his mother.
"It doesn't matter, but it would've been easier with a job, that's for sure."
His verbal strength knocked her - this wasn't Philip. In front of her was a nearly-grown man, no longer a child. He'd transformed before her eyes. Games console in arms, he trailed back to the kitchen. Here was Eddie, immersed in some sort of theatrical performance. The table was too comfortable to move from. A safe haven. Sophie, elsewhere, was a great distraction.
"You're pushing it." Melissa stated, dryly. Her tone had changed. Spite tasted good to her; her favourite.
"Nah, I'm not," he checked himself. The cables made their way inside the duffle bag. "Last time I checked you were taking the piss yourself. With me, with Eddie, Sophie."
"Phil, mate - don't." It was a warning from Eddie, perched ringside. The last he wanted was for Philip to blow open Pandora's box - fighting with this woman was not worth it, mother or not. Eddie knew that. Blood meant nothing.
"What? It's true!" he sympathised, albeit with a kick, towards Eddie. He quickly turned to face his mother, ready for a standoff. "Here you are relying on everyone again. Not taking any responsibility. Even Rachel is sick of you."
Uh-oh.
Eddie felt the nerve that this hit within Melissa. There was never a more contentious topic.
"What has she said?"
"Nothing."
"No, I want to know!"
His mother was throwing verbal right hooks, smacking him. A weak point. Philip lost his words, having had them beaten out of him. It was her perfect opportunity for an uppercut. A competitive advantage.
"I knew it wouldn't be long before she'd be spouting off to you."
"Melissa." It was a cautious verbal warning from Eddie. Sophie squealed, unaware of what was cooking. Melissa didn't take it lightly.
"What? You don't need to defend her anymore, Eddie."
It was a sly jab, and one Melissa knew would pain him. Any reminder she could serve about his former relationship was fruitful to her. Eddie knew some unjust Rachel slander was queueing up to hit him. Melissa was about to chuck it overboard.
"Where's this flat, then?" Melissa quizzed, sour, but Philip's response didn't leave him quickly enough. "You're bluffing," she scoffed.
"No I'm not."
"Let me guess, what you're really saying is that you're going back to Rachel's."
"No."
"Well how are you paying for it then?"
She was idiotic. If only she had thought of that for her son. Sacked.
"It's Adam's flat." Philip came clean, and was met with a disbelieving laugh from his mother.
"Ohhh, I see. Finally kicking you out is she?"
Philip attempted to deflect this away from his aunt - the offer was from both of them: "No, they gave me a choice."
"How generous." Melissa sarcastically quipped. It flicked a switch in Philip - he'd pulled himself up from the sidelines; bloodied.
"Yeah, it is actually. Gets me away from you at least."
Philip threw this with an apologetic glance to Eddie, but there was no need. He got it. Eddie wasn't stopping him. He was merely there to spend time with his daughter; unrelated.
"Sounds like she's putting you in a convenient place. Out of her hair."
"Melissa, stop." Eddie piped up, issuing a second verbal warning for Philip's protection. He didn't know how she did it - remaining so full of spite and bitterness. Philip was her son, just as Sophie was her daughter. Times like these made Eddie kick himself. He was too stupid - blinded by superficial lust - to see her true colours for what they really were those few years ago. She was manipulative. Emotionally abusive. Philip too ignored Eddie's warnings.
"She's not, mum. And this isn't even about Rachel."
Philip was met with a disbelieving scoff from his mother. It was Philip and Rachel v. Melissa, she was convinced. "Well, it sounds like she's been having a right old chat with you, as always."
"And even if Rachel has, she's entitled to. It's not just her that's sick of your incompetence."
Right in the face - a fatal blow. Philip looked his mother directly in the eyes, full of hate. Years of frustration were burning out, but he knew there wasn't much point in arguing.
"She's pulled the wool right over your eyes, Phil." Something shifted. Her tone was soft - an initial piercing before the sting. Melissa was terrifying when she became like this.
"In what way then, hey? Tell me mum, because I'm dying to know."
Philip was becoming increasingly angry, transformation almost complete. Here he'd gone from an impressionable boy at the mercy of his mother to a man with the strength to tackle her. For the first time he was confronting her, adult to adult. In the ring.
"Like giving you a flat, for god's sake. It's all so convenient."
Melissa's words no longer held fury, but a suppressed, stinging rage. Philip and Eddie knew, however, the sentence was still loaded. Each carefully crafted word was still poisonous. She walked to the dining table, lifting Sophie straight out of her highchair. Melissa paid no attention to the fact Eddie was mid-feeding her. Lucid; Melissa was calculating. Sophie was buying her time, buffering for the perfect delivery of her next lines.
"You wanted to go and run back to Rachel's house because you think I'm the problem, and she said no." Sophie perched on her hip, chewing her little fingers.
"That's not true."
"And, because she didn't want to drop her perfect aunt image, they're letting you stay at that flat for nothing." She had cracked it, she was sure - a sly smile. "It's out of guilt."
"What is your problem? You should be grateful Rachel and Adam have my back. If anything, thank god she's been there for me - for my entire life. She practically raised me for five years."
Melissa ensured Sophie's bowl clanged in the sink. This small child still remained unaware, cradled on her hip.
"Oh come on Phil, she's kicking you out because she's pregnant, not because she's helping you," she scoffed. Melissa knew what she was doing - it was a calculated, hidden bomb. Dropped without dramatic effect, for extra impact. Delivered with stealth. Philip and Eddie were caught off guard, both stealing a quick glance at one another to confirm that neither of them knew this. It weakened his argument. Shit.
Eddie got up from his seat to deal with Sophie's bowl in the sink. Now he was buying time with another distraction tactic. Melissa was waiting for a reaction from him, he knew it. She was loving the fact this would hurt him, and it did. He washed the bowl, digesting what he had just learned. How the fuck did Melissa know this detail? It surely wouldn't have been from Rachel - not willingly, anyway. Though one thing it did validate was Rachel's sharp reaction to the previous night, which now made perfect sense. Her defensiveness; she was shutting him - and everyone else - off emotionally, protecting herself for a reason. Vulnerable Rachel always got short - he was one of few who knew that. She held strong in front of him, but behind the facade she was likely crumbling. It was all very quick; from a strong, independent, fiery woman suddenly ushered into the realms of wife, and soon, mother.
Philip stood there, not knowing what to say. It was all emotional tack. Momentarily he took his mother's words - maybe there was truth to this. For a split second he considered her view. Maybe he was a burden to Rachel, still bringing this drama to her. She clearly had other things to deal with now - rightfully, her own life. But deep down, he knew Rachel better than his mother. Rational thinking took over. It wasn't true. Rachel would do anything for him. This was just his mother's venom.
"Mum, you are such a liar."
"Am I? Go and ask her." Her tone was light; lifted. She was enjoying this, jabbing full well knowing that Philip wasn't going to ask Rachel about the flat, or the circumstances. His mother had cornered him. Philip was reduced to silence, contemplating what was truth and what was fiction. "Thought not," she smiled while preoccupied, changing the t-shirt of little Sophie, who had been plonked on the kitchen counter. A psychotic move. All too normal.
"Anyway, when you've had enough of your nice, convenient arrangement with Adam and Rachel, don't even ask me about coming back."
"You wish," Philip shot, running out of steam. Defeated. "I'm done with you." Philip huffed out of the room, presumably to continue packing.
"Great!" Melissa quipped in a light, positive tone that followed him. The sarcasm reeled off. She was still preoccupied with Sophie. More important, she deemed. Sophie was a means to control Eddie - that was still the priority.
After remaining silent for too long, it was time for Eddie to bite. He was furious for this poor lad.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" Eddie steamed, furious, as Philip stormed up the stairs. "Think whatever you like about me, Rachel, Adam, and whoever else you've got a bone to pick with, but don't you dare vent that on him."
It felt strange to be defending not only Rachel, but her husband too. Eddie had never even met him. He was just some figure, a ghost in photos. Eddie still prayed that really, he didn't exist.
"I can't believe you're still defending her," Melissa laughed. "Can't you see through all this? Or are you still blinded by her? Taking Rachel's side isn't going to make her miraculously fall in love with you again." It was all so controlled; a narrative. Eddie tried his best to ignore her cheap shot.
"You're missing the point," he argued. Truthfully, she was half right. In a strange sense defending both Rachel and Adam together was a means to protect Rachel. It wasn't out of duty to protect a man he didn't know, or wished to not exist.
"No, I'm not."
Melissa was playing a torturous game, knowing Eddie wouldn't fight back. He had too much to lose in the shape of his daughter. A pawn. God forbid for Eddie to also show that he would secretly still fight for Rachel. That was dangerous territory.
"Just leave them be, Eddie."
He hoped that the end of her lashings were striking at Philip and Rachel's bond, but he knew otherwise. Now this had turned personal - Philip wasn't Melissa's real problem. Instead she was jabbing at Rachel and Adam, teasing Eddie as the outsider to their perfect little life. Emotionally cornered.
"My concern here is Philip, not anybody else," he tried. It was partially convincing.
"Yeah, whatever."
He didn't know what to say now. He was out of moves. There was no winning here. Checkmate. Sophie grizzled, breaking the storm. She was now on the kitchen floor, accompanied by a few stray toys. Melissa gazed down at Sophie, the perfect accompaniment to her next line.
"Rachel's got other priorities now, anyway."
Her glare met Eddies.
"And it's probably best you keep out of that."