Paul was tactless.
And a complete clown.
He was just finishing his coffee, hurriedly, so as to not almost choke on it again like he did when Lucy started massaging the man. His phone rang.
He turned around to look at his mother – it was John.
"I've got to take this." He said to no one in particular, pushing his chair back as he grasped at his mobile.
"Oh, is it your new girlfriend?"
All eyes were on him thanks to Daniel's little comment, but he ignored it, giving his family a shrug before backing out of the kitchen.
"Hello?" once he was safely in the hall.
"Rory." John sounded relieved over the crackling line, "I'm so sorry I didn't answer you. My father wasn't too pleased about… well. He took my mobile."
"It's alright. Glad to hear you're okay."
"Why wouldn't I be?"
"Well, it sounded like your father doesn't give you a lot of leeway, is all." He shrugged, listening to someone yelling at the background. "Where are you?"
"Walking to school. There's this mother and her child crossing the street." A pause, presumably John was looking at the commotion, "They're fine."
"Oh good. Listen, do you have any spare time?"
"I've got tonight off, if that's okay with you."
"Yeah. I'll see you at the pub, 5 o clock?"
"Okay." He could hear John's smile, see it in his mind; a bit brighter than real life probably. He had to stop romanticizing. It wasn't good. "See you then."
"Bye."
He brought his mobile from his ear, staring at the screen for a moment before he turned around and went back into the kitchen. He pretended he didn't hear chairs scrape and voices hushing, rolling his eyes.
"Plans?" his mother asked innocently.
"Yup."
"So soon after Laura?" Paul stared at him as if disappointed, probably a show for the Proek sisters. Pervert.
Laura's sleeping with Daniel, so.
"Yeah."
The problem with fathers invalided home from the army, especially his father, was that they tended to take things too seriously. And the problem with men without their wives, was that they tended to either worry about whether or not they're raising their children well enough, or drown in a sea of despair. Possibly both.
His father was too practical a man to drown in a sea of despair. The problem was that he worried too much, and he worried their mother would be disappointed in him, and in them.
He knew the reasoning behind what his father did, he knew why he did it.
That didn't make it hurt any less.
Sometimes he avoided looking into the mirror in the bathroom, he avoided looking at his body like one avoided the plague, avoided looking about the stripes that adorned his back and chest.
And sometimes he inspected them, traced each of them lightly with his fingers, the ones that hadn't yet faded away – he inspected them all.
His father never drew blood though, no, that was one step too far. One time he did, he apologized relentlessly, cried a little even, and that was how he knew his father cared.
People never really pay attention to his body, they never really see.
The punishment was done. He was free to go.
Harry worked at home, she was very good with the computers, she was a very valuable asset to the company she worked at. Essentially she was a good daughter who took no shit from anyone – father was very proud of her. She hadn't taken a lashing in a month.
He on the other hand.
"Never let someone rule your heart." Father told him quietly, watching him dress for his date at the door, arms crossed in front of him.
"It's a second date, father."
"He's older than you, first date and you didn't call to tell where you were. Bad first impression, John."
"I'll be back this time. I promise."
He shrugged on his jacket, pressed a quick kiss to his father's weathered cheek before he went out the door.
John's father isn't a bad man. He's just doing his best raising two children on his own. John and Harry knows this.