Chapter Three
Part 1: Ste
You can't take this in; you just can't process it.
Brendan's out of prison.
It had only taken those few words to make you realise what you'd really achieved in terms of 'moving on' - papering over the cracks. And now the wound had been ripped open again, fresh to fill with more of him.
You must look a state, because Leah comes running over, fussing over you and leading you over to a chair as Cheryl looks on worriedly.
"Dad? You've gone pale, what's happened?"
You're still lost for words. Your daughter's voice alerts Amy, Sinead and the rest of those you're closest to, and they all come rushing to your side.
"I'm sorry, Ste, I never wanted to upset ye..." Cheryl trails off when you hold up a hand to cut her off. You're not sure that 'upset' is the word.
You're numb. That's it; just numb.
Never one to wait around patiently, Amy turns to Cheryl to demand answers. "What's this all about?"
You look at Nate and manage to catch his eye with a slight shake of your head. You're not ready to let this news out to your family yet – least of all Amy.
"Why don't I help you guys tidy up while Ste and Cheryl catch up?" the man announces brightly, ushering everyone away as swiftly as he can. You can still feel Amy and Leah's eyes on you from a distance as they reluctantly agree to the instruction, but this is for the best. Now that you've been told the most vital piece of news about Brendan, you need to know more.
You can't let it go, even though common sense tells you that you should let things lie.
Your voice is small when you finally speak again. You're not even sure you're capable of constructing a full sentence, so you start with the first question that comes to mind. "When?"
She doesn't need to ask what you mean. "Last week."
Last week. Everything about this conversation is repeating itself inside your head, waiting for you to grasp it's meaning. Brendan has been free for over a week and you'd had no idea. You hate that it still matters to you, but you hate that you've been in the dark even more.
"Where is he?"
Cheryl's stricken face clears into a tentative smile. "Ireland."
You hadn't expected anything different, really; but considering she had broached the subject by telling you that her brother misses you, something inside you had expected more from Brendan. If he misses you that much, then why isn't he here telling you himself?
It suddenly feels like the last few minutes have been a complete waste of your time. Brendan's been brought back into your life, and now you can't get him out of your head - despite the fact that he's not given you any direct impression that he still cares.
"I need some air."
You stand up, and Cheryl has to take a step back as you walk past her and head through to the back door. You cast a look in everyone's direction, aiming to make sure that they don't follow you. When you get outside to the staff smoking area, your back hits the wall. You can't support the weight of your body while your head is in such a mess.
You drag yourself over to a chair and slump into it like a dead weight.
"Uncle Ste?"
You look up moments later to find Katy watching you with concern in her eyes. She'd dropped the 'Uncle' title years ago when she'd reached adulthood, but every now and then, whenever she's upset or when you need to hear it, the sentiment returns to remind you how much you're loved.
You smile at your god-daughter, but she knows you well; knows it's only a front for whatever it is that's bothering you.
"Cheryl in there...she's Brendan's sister, right?"
That throws you. Katy had been around to hear your heart-to-heart chats with her mother back in the day – in the first few years after you'd finally faced up to losing the love of your life. But not once have you discussed any of it with her. You won't even talk about Brendan with your son and daughter, let alone someone else who's never met him.
But now it occurs to you that this might be a good thing. You want to be left alone, and yet at the same time you're tempted to confide in someone completely impartial to every part of this messed up situation.
Amy has always hated Brendan. Leah will only remember him as the 'hairy man' who took her bug-hunting and read her stories as a little girl. Lucas has only the faintest of memories of the man, and naturally it's something that his mother hasn't encouraged. Tony and Sinead know enough about Brendan to judge him; but they also know how much he meant to you – how much he still means to you.
And then there's Cheryl; someone who, like you once did, knows everything there is to know about Brendan Brady. There's no doubt in your mind that she wants to put things right, to make up for lost time between you and him. But you won't be pushed.
You return your gaze to Katy. "Yeah," you reply. "She is."
"Do you still think about him?"
An honest answer would be no, because ever since you picked yourself up all those years ago you'd never let yourself think about him. Now, though, he is all you can think about. There doesn't seem to be room for anything else.
You let out a shaky breath, and Katy can see that she doesn't need to hear your answer.
"I've never seen you like this, you know," she comments now, and you dwell on the fact that this is only because you'd long since finished with all your bouts of self-pity by the time she was old enough to hear them. "I mean, I've seen you when you're unhappy but this...Mum always said that this guy broke your heart."
You feel like you should be angry with Sinead, but instead you find yourself smirking. "Oh, did she now?"
Katy ignores your attempt to lighten the conversation. "So are you just going to stay out here and mope, or are you going to do something about it?"
"I'm too old to mope! And what exactly are you suggesting?"
"Go and talk to him!" she orders, with the same mix of fieriness and bossiness her mum possesses. "Tell him everything. Shout at the man if you have to. Just make sure that when you walk away, if you walk away from him, then you can say you don't have any regrets this time."
She reaches over to give your hand a squeeze, and when she leaves you to head back inside you're left to ponder her advice for all of thirty seconds before you're joined by Cheryl.
"She's a smart one, that girl," she remarks, offering you a small smile. "I'm sorry love, I know I'm probably the last person ye want to see when ye need a bit of peace, but I just wanted to come and say goodbye. Nate and I are heading back to the hotel now."
She looks awkward and uncomfortable after the way the party has ended, and you feel a pang of guilt. None of this is her fault, really. It's not her fault Brendan took matters into his own hands and took a part of your future away with it; or that in doing so he made sure his sister could have hers.
"I'm sorry," you tell her. "I shouldn't have stormed out like that."
"I don't blame ye, Ste. I'm the one who should be sorry, blurting out news like that without warning. It was the wrong time and place, and the whole thing has certainly sobered me up, I can tell ye."
Cheryl hesitates, her face betraying that she'd like to say more, but instead she steps forward to hug you goodbye. You stand to meet her embrace, and by the time she pulls away you've realised that you can't leave things as they are.
"When are you leaving Chester?" you ask before she can turn away.
Her face doesn't change, and it occurs to you that it probably sounds as though you can't wait for her to go.
"In the morning."
You make your decision then and there. Forget the fact that Brendan hasn't come to find you. Forget that he's just finished a long stretch in prison and is hiding away in Ireland. He's not getting any peace and quiet in his old age until you've had it out with him.
You still love Brendan, but you hate him at the same time; and now thirty-seven years later he's going to hear about it.
Your family comes outside to find you just in time to hear you utter the words.
"Cheryl, can I come back to Ireland with you?"
Part 2: Brendan
Steven isn't moving. The second he said your name it was like time stood still, and although you're willing yourself to move you find that your legs just won't work.
"Steven..."
You trail off, the million words you want to say getting stuck in your dry throat.
Cheryl clears her throat as she and Nate move from behind him, and you suddenly remember that you're in their house, and that contrary to how you've been feeling for the last few seconds, you and Steven are not the only two people in the room.
"We'll head out for some lunch and leave the two of ye to talk," she announces. It makes you feel uncomfortable. You don't know how you're going to be alone with him again for the first time in so long.
It scares you.
"Ye don't have to do that..."
"Yes I do," Cheryl cuts in, her voice small but full of conviction as she steers Nate back out of the front door. "I really do. Come on, love." Her husband smiles sheepishly at you before doing as he's told.
The door clicks shut behind them, and this is it. The moment you thought you'd never experience. What the hell are you going to say to him?
Deciding that having the ability to move might be a good start, you finally get to your feet. You can feel yourself shaking. You glance his way; he's still frozen in place.
You take a few steps towards him, but stop short of going within touching distance of him. Steven has a look in his eyes that tells you that if you even dared to try, you'd regret it.
"So you're out, then."
There's so much hidden beneath that obvious statement and you both know it. You know what he's really saying; what he really means. It's all there in the way that he says the words.
Didn't get in touch though, did you?
I had to hear about it through your sister.
Did you even give me a second thought?
You long to make him understand that continuing to leave him be was something you had to do to protect him from any more pain. An even bigger part of you longs to wrap him in your arms and never let him go again.
Then you remind yourself how long ago it was that you last had the right to do that and you feel like a stupid, pathetic old man.
As a result, you answer Steven's remark with a one-worded answer that gives nothing away.
All you say is, "yeah."
He surprises you by laughing, only it's a bitter sound without an ounce of humour. "Are you trying to make me hate you even more? Because honestly Brendan, that's not possible. I reached my limit a very long time ago."
"Then why are ye here?"
That's the real question, and your broaching of the subject doesn't bring an answer any quicker. You watch as Steven's face closes down right before your eyes – his eyes dead and vacant as he drops down into one of the chairs nearby.
You return to your own seat and, when you can't bear the silence for a moment longer, you blurt out the next thing that comes to mind.
"How are Leah and Lucas?"
He looks like he wants to throw something at you for even daring to mention their names.
"It's a bit late to ask after them now, isn't it?" comes his scathing response.
"Yes. But seeing as ye are here, I'm asking anyway."
Steven looks down at his hands, seems to while away another minute studying them. He doesn't look up when he answers you, but you see his whole body deflate as he gives up the argument. "They're both doing really well. Married with kids of their own, careers, the lot."
You smile to yourself at that. You were a second daddy to them once upon a time, and it gives you some happiness to know how they've turned out. Somehow you don't think Steven wants nor needs your opinion on the subject, though.
"And how are ye?"
His eyes find yours again now, and there's a fire in them that you've missed more than life outside the prison walls, even though he's angry with you.
"I was fine," he replies in a strange, flat voice. "I was doing fine until I found out about you."
"Ye were happy?" It's not an accusation; it's a hope. It's what you've always wanted for him. The thing is, Steven has yet to actually use the word 'happy'. 'Fine' just isn't anywhere near enough what he deserves.
Once again, he turns his face away from you. It's then that you know he isn't going to answer your question, because he can't give you a straight answer.
"I came here to shout at you," he announces instead, and you let out an ill-advised laugh at the bluntness of the statement. It isn't news to you – you hadn't expected anything else upon him turning up here. But it's so far from the calm, collected way in which he's talking that it's comical, somehow.
You'd forgotten what it felt like to laugh, but a short while alone with this man and it's all come back to you; the life you could have had with him. Memories filled with laughter and light instead of darkness and the same four walls, day in and day out.
"So why aren't ye shouting at me?" You ask, recovering yourself from your thoughts.
"I'm just too tired," Steven says softly, running a hand through his silver hair. "I'm tired of feeling like this all the time. I'm too old to be giving myself a heart attack stressing out over you again." He lets out a deep sigh. "I shouldn't have come here."
He stands up, and panic floods through you again as you get to your feet too. Only this time it isn't because he's here, but because you're going to lose him all over again.
"Steven wait, I know ye haven't come all this way just to say that. Ye can't leave like this."
He doesn't turn around as he heads to the door, and suddenly you're hit with a vivid flashback of the first time you told him you loved him, nearly forty years ago. He'd been standing at the front door then, too, and you'd stopped him leaving with those three little words.
Nothing about your feelings had changed from that day to this one.
"I love ye," you say now. "Please don't leave me again."
He turns around, and there are tears in his eyes but the expression on his face is so defiant that you think that, as promised, he's finally going to shout at you. But he doesn't.
"I never left you, Brendan," Steven tells you, his voice cracking as he says your name. "It was you that pushed me out of your life. I begged you not to do it; I told you how much I loved you but it wasn't enough to stop you from leaving me. So don't you dare ask me to stay. I don't owe you anything."
You nod, closing your eyes and waiting for the sound of the door opening and then slamming shut. It never comes.
"But I still love you, too."
A/N: More to come...