It's you I'm thinking of > Patrick Feely

Ruby

     A knock on my bedroom door startled me awake early one Saturday morning, a voice on the other side called my name.

Patrick stirred beside me but remained soundly asleep. I threw the covers off of me and grabbed a hoodie from the floor. I assumed Oscar had just woken up early or maybe had a nightmare. It was pretty early by the looks of it, still half dark outside.

But I'd been sleeping well, just like I had on Halloween in Patrick's bed. Or maybe I slept well because Patrick was beside me that night just like he was now.

I can't remember the last time I slept well in my bed, most nights I ended up on the couch in the sitting room staring at the ceiling until the sun came up.

But it wasn't Oscar that met me in the hallway.

It was my father.

My real-life father who I hadn't seen or spoken to since June. He stood in front of me looking the same as he did the last time, apart from longer hair and a longer beard, he was the exact same.

A reminder of what life was like before, before the accident and everything bad happened.

I suddenly forgot why I had ever thought anything bad about him in the past five months. Why I had ever doubted him. Why I had ever been happy that he was away.

He looked good, certainly better than the rest of us who have been walking around a haunted house since Rian died. Our eyes bore the guilt and the grief and the sadness of living without him.

Dad was always away before the accident, it was nothing new for him. Except now, he was coming home to a house that was no longer filled with his happy family and hundreds of stories to tell him about what happened while he was away. No, he was coming home to a wife who hadn't spoken more than five words to her kids in the last three weeks, a daughter who's been trying and failing to keep his family afloat and a son who's had no one to take care of him in the way a child deserves.

So, yes, dad looked better than the rest of us. He hadn't been living in hell, he had been living just fine.

Maybe we could all take a page out of his book.

I stepped further into the hallway and tried my best to click the door shut as quietly as I could. My mind on a sleeping Patrick only a step behind me.

"Hi dad." I croaked out, staring up at him.

"Hey, Princess." He smiled.

The next thing I knew he was wrapping his arms around me and pulling me into him. I'd forgotten what it was like to be on this side of a parents hug. I wanted to cry and laugh at the same time.

Instead, I settled for returning the sentiment. It felt like I was holding onto whatever was left of that life. Before that day ever happened.

~ ~ ~

     "How's school? Are you enjoying Tommen any better than BCS?" He asked.

I shrugged, "The people are nicer, I guess. It's a much nicer area and building."

He chuckled and placed his cup of coffee onto the table, "I told your mother that five years ago when we were signing you up for secondary school but she insisted on sending you where she went. Best days of her life, she said."

I can't imagine school being the best days of any persons life but maybe I could make an exception for mam, she always seemed very happy in old photos.

"And how about that boy sleeping in your bed?" He asked, so casually that I almost choked on my tea.

But I wouldn't give him the satisfaction, he had no say.

"That's Patrick." I told him. Suddenly remembering the conversation I had last week with his dad, I added, "You might know him actually."

"Would I?" He frowned.

"Yeah, that's Patrick Feely."

Dad didn't miss a beat, "Christ, is it really? Well, his father was my best mate back in the day."

"I know, he was asking for you last time I spoke to him." I nodded.

"It must be fifteen years since I last saw him, his girls must be all grown up." He grinned, "And by the looks of it, his boy is too."

Erin told me once that they had two older sisters who had moved away but Patrick never mentioned them. I think I thought about him more than I thought about his family and his story.

"And he's your boyfriend? His boy?" He asked, raising his brows.

"What? No, no. Patrick's my. . . friend. He's been a real good friend to us. Oscar and me. He's one of Oscar's rugby coaches."

God, don't tell Erin, but I think her brother might be my best friend.

"Well, his father was one hell of a rugby player back in the day, so that doesn't surprise me." He chuckled, shaking his head and leaning back in his chair.

That makes you like Rugby Royalty.

"Yeah, I've heard you were too. I think there's a plaque or something in Tommen with your name on it."

"Yeah," He reminisced, "We were the only winning team Tommen had back in our day. Mighty good team I was a part of."

I only hummed in response, remembering the day I found the big plaque and trophy with my fathers name on them as well as a picture of the members of the senior team from 1969-1972 with my father smack bang in the middle. . . and Patrick Feely senior beside him. That was where I recognised him from. God, I must have stared at the picture for fifteen minutes and I still couldn't place him last week.

"Well, you look. . . happy. A lot better than the last time I saw you, Ruby." He began.

You mean a week after your son died.

"And I'm thinking that boy has something to do with that. So, whatever he is— a friend, a boyfriend, a rugby coach or even just a boy who sleeps in your bed occasionally— I'm happy you have that spark in your eyes."

I didn't know if he had any right to say that because he hadn't been here when we really needed him.

"Thanks, dad." I replied, flatly.

"He's good to you?" He cleared his throat, trying to form a serious dad look.

"He is really good." I settled with saying.

And I told absolutely no lie.