Just A Little More

SEVEN YEARS AGO

The sun had long since set, and the neighborhood was dark by the time I strolled in through the back door, my shoes tied together by their laces and hanging around my neck, my hands shoved into my pockets. Hopefully my parents were asleep by now, and I wouldn't have to deal with either of them. 

It was exhausting to look into their eyes these days and act like everything was fine when I harbored a little bit of hatred for my father. Okay, maybe it was more than a little bit, but I won’t tell if you don’t. 

I spent time at Jacob’s house long after practice, then came home and lied through my teeth, saying the coach sucked us dry with practice, which is why I was so late.

You can’t blame me. 

The atmosphere in this house was depressing, and hearing my father whistle while he smoked his cigar, acting like all was right and fair in the world, was pissing me off when I could see my mother was losing weight, when I could clearly see she was losing her shine. 

She just needed to wait. Just a little more, and I would make it big in the hockey world. I would make it so big that we could go anywhere in the world we wanted to without depending on my father. She needed it. She needed to breathe and smile like she always did. I needed my mother back, and I'd get her. 

Just a little more time. 

A little more and it’ll all be over. 

I opened the kitchen door, about to sneak my way upstairs, but then I heard voices, and everything in me froze.

“... keep doing this!” my mother cried, and my jaw clenched when I heard the pain in her voice, the shaking and the heartbreak. 

He was doing it again. He was hurting her again, not with his fists but with his poison-filled tongue, with his manipulative act.

“Forgive me, my love,” he said softly, and I could already picture him cupping her face, looking into her eyes so she could see his deceit. “Forgive me. It just slipped.”

“No,” she snapped. “No, Elijah, we both know it didn't just slip.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Is that really how you see me? Do I really look so pathetic and needy in your eyes? Do… Does my love mean nothing to you, Eli?”

My heart clenched in my chest at the devastation in her voice when she used that nickname. If he wasn't a monster, that would melt his heart, but I knew better. That touched nowhere in him. He was always so quick to mock my mother’s love for him, to talk about how she gave up her life all in the name of love. He said it with a smile so you don't feel the sting until later.

I had always looked forward to those stories when I was younger. Stories of how they met and fell in love, and the sacrifices they both had to make. But now that I am older, I can see that my mother was the only one who ever made sacrifices. She was the only one who put her life on hold for love. 

Twenty years later, that life was still on hold. 

“No, no, don’t say that, my Lily,” he whispered. “You know how much I love you.” And that did it. “You know how–”

“No, you don’t!” I shouted as I burst into his study, and they both froze, eyes wide as they turned on me.

“J-Jackson?” my mother called softly, stepping away from her and his hands he had on her face. “My boy, are you just coming in?”

I didn't look away from my father. My chest was heaving with anger as I stared at him, my clenched fists shaking. 

“You don’t love her,” I spat, my voice filled with hate. “You have never loved her!”

He raised an eyebrow, turning to face me fully with his hands shoved into his pockets. “And what do you know about love, my boy?” he asked softly, amusement lacing his voice.

“Nothing. I know nothing about love, but I also know this isn't love. You don’t love my mother. You’re using her. You’ve–”

“Jackson!” my mother shouted, tears filling her eyes.

“But it’s true!” I yelled back, my eyes stinging, my voice cracking. “It’s true, and you know it! You know he’s using you. You have so much to offer, and that’s why he’s still here!”

“Shut your mouth and get out,” she spat, but I shook my head, standing my ground.

“No. No, I'm not leaving. He doesn't deserve you, Mom. You deserve better!”

He scoffed, and when I turned to look at him, he was casually leaning against the desk with his arms now folded across his chest. 

“There is no better than me, Jackson. And she knows it.”

Disgust filled my insides. “So you’re not even trying to hide it anymore? You’re not trying to sugarcoat it?” 

He just lifted his shoulders in a casual shrug, and something painful shot through my chest. Was this the man I grew up loving? The man I had always wanted to be like? Has he always been this way, or have the years changed him? Make him this… devil? 

I turned away from that nauseating look on his face and turned to my mother, who was staring at him with her eyes wide, tears falling down her cheeks.

“Mom,” I whispered as I grabbed her shoulders, but she didn't look at me and just kept her eyes fixed on him. “We could leave, Mom. You don’t have to endure this anymore. I… I don’t have any money right now, but just wait. I will make it big with hockey, and I will take–”

“Ahh yes,” my father muttered from behind me, and my shoulders stiffened when I heard that darkness in his voice. “Hockey… As your father, Jackson, I believe it’s time to stop that play you’re trying to turn into a career.”

Very slowly, I turned to him, every muscle in my body tight. “What?”

He was still leaning against his desk, his eyes fixed on me, and the look in them… it sent bells ringing in my head. 

“You are my only son. My heir. You have a legacy to take over, and that joke you do in the ice is not it. So you’re quitting.”

“Like bloody hell I am,” I growled.

He tsked like he was disappointed. “Mind your language with me, son. And this is not up for debate.”

“You’re right. It’s not. Nothing is going to make me quit.” 

Every softness in his face vanished, replaced by a look I have never seen before, a look that scared me more than I will ever admit. He pushed off the desk and walked slowly to me, and every instinct screamed to run, to leave. Even my mother felt it. Her back straightened, her hands shaking.

“Elijah,” she called softly, her voice trembling, but he just kept walking towards me, his eyes hard.

“Nothing, you said?”