P H O E N I X

Sometimes I could sleep perfectly fine. Usually when I had too much to drink that I point blank passed out but that always led to a hangover in the morning. There were other, rarer times though, when I didn't drink - when I had someone beside me that I slept soundlessly.

Dr Meyer told me something about there being comfort in having someone by my side. She asked if I was in a relationship and a lot of other questions. After the first session with her, I began to be less suspicious and talk more. It didn't seem so frightening anymore, opening up. It was actually kind of nice. Dr Meyer was nice.

I still didn't like her office or the view outside her window but I began to like her. I told her about my drinking, how sometimes it would come as naturally as drinking water. She asked when it started but I couldn't give a straight answer. I felt like I'd been doing it my whole life but I did say I thought it began to intensify after Matt's death. Mostly when I was sad, I was a sad drinker.

She didn't jot down any notes, just waited for me to carry on and I did to fill in the silence. As the sessions went on, I peeled away layers of myself slowly. And it was fine because whatever I shed in that room would stay in that room and come back up when I left.

I remember I had been sober for three days and when I told Dr Meyer she'd congratulated me. After that, I felt ridiculously pleased with myself but it came to an end that same day when Kaden walked past me at the Blitz.

I was being sensitive, I admit that much, but I also needed it. When I got home I saw a bright yellow sticky note stuck on the cupboard door that held the wine. In red sharpie was the address of the place dad was staying. I knew that it was Kat who'd done this and was about to throw the note into the trash when I looked at it again.

I thought about something Dr Meyer had said in one of our sessions. I'd always considered myself as somewhat confident but according to her, that didn't always mean that I was straightforward. It was true that I held back when talking to my dad that day at the Blitz. There was more I wanted to say. Or rather, I wanted to hear his answer to something I said. His real response.

I went up to my room and opened up a can of beer that was a couple days old. I sat on my bed and stared at the address and stared some more. The bottle was half empty by the time I stood up and went don't to grab my bike. I threw the remainder of the beer into the trash and began pedalling.

-

I didn't know what I would say when I saw him. Hello, would be a good start but what then? I ran multiple greetings over in my head, trying the find the right one but all my attempts seemed futile. More than once, I turned my bike round intending to go home and crawl under my covers but then I turned back. If I didn't do this now then I never would.

I paced back and forth in front of his door, circling a total of 16 times before summoning the courage to knock on the door. I heard shuffling on the other and a second later it opened.

"Phoenix." He breathed, unshaven and looking like he just woke up from a long slumber. "Come in."

Without even saying hello I passed the threshold to where he'd been staying. The place was a mess. There were day old takeaway cartons and empty soda cans scattered around. One was on the little table in the living room, half drunk.

"Sorry about the mess." He grabbed a pizza box and stacked it on top of another then went around doing the same to the others. Once the space was less cluttered he motioned for me to sit but I shook my head.

"I won't be here long. I just wanted to ask something."

He sat on the armrest, rubbing his palms across his sweatpants in a nervous gesture. "Go ahead."

I bit my lip. "Why didn't you come to Matt's funeral?" And waited for the answer. I half expected not to get one, or the same response from last time - when he sighed and stood up.

He disappeared into another room for a minute. I heard the sound of a zip opening and closing and he was back out, holding something in his hand. He handed it to me.

At first, I thought it was a very grainy black and white picture but then I looked closer. It was a sonogram. It wasn't just any picture but one showing an unborn baby. The date at the bottom showed that it was a little under a year old.

I frowned. "You have another child?" I said it almost accusingly which he just held up his hands.

"Please just let me explain." I bit the inside of my cheek to stop myself from making any comment and nodded. He took in a deep breath.

"After your mom, I was just floating around from place to place, not really knowing what to do. About two years ago I met Khoni. She was in the same boat as me, divorced, sad and so naturally we clicked. When I found out she was pregnant I was over the moon. It gave me the chance to be a dad again - a proper one."

He stopped abruptly and I saw his palm press into his eyes. "It was a stillbirth. I was at the hospital when your mother called about Matt. It didn't feel like it was happening at the time. Losing two children at the same time - but it was real."

He did start crying then. His shoulders shook vigorously, both his palms covered his face and he cowered into himself. For a moment I stayed where I was, a lump beginning to form in the back of my throat but when I did move, I didn't talk. If I did, I knew I too would burst into tears and instead settled to putting a firm hand on his shoulder.

My hand stayed there until they began to slow to the rise and fall of his even breaths. I went into the kitchen, searching the cupboards for a cup and teabag and when I came back out he was fine. At least that was what I wanted to believe. I placed the cup of tea in front of him, removing the soda can whilst doing so.

I poured the liquid down the sink and was about to roll up my sleeves to clean up the dirty dishes when he stopped me.

"You don't have to do that." He sighed a tired sigh. "You shouldn't have to do any of this. Come here."

He set his cup aside and embraced me in a hug which made my eyes leak a little. He still felt like dad. He was still my dad.

"I forgive you." I said quietly.

And for the second time that day I saw my dad cry. But I just knew they weren't sad tears anymore.

-

When I left my dad's place it was almost sunset. He offered to go with me but I declined, saying it was better to get himself sorted out. He agreed and promised that he would drop by soon to explain to everyone. They deserved to know as much as me.

On the way home I felt much lighter, like a weight had been lifted off me. But as soon as I thought that, I felt a pressure on my chest.

I replayed dad's story in my head. He was another man. Starting another life. Starting another family. I wondered where we were in his mind whilst this was happening. Did he just forget about the four children he'd left?

I hadn't said any of this him before but I was only now just thinking about it. The more I tried to get rid of these thoughts, the more they consumed me.

Contrary to this was the sky. The sun was slowly starting to set, casting soft pink and orange glows onto the houses. Children were playing in their neighbourhoods, laughing and tagging each other. Everything seemed so calm but a storm was beginning inside of me.

I wasn't concentrating on which way I was going so when the truck came towards me in the opposite direction, I was completely out of it. It was only until I registered the beeping horn that I looked up. My heart spiked with fear seeing the headlights coming closer at an alarming speed.

It took a minute for my feet to gear into motion and pedal harder. I jerked my handlebars, only missing the bumper of the truck by inches. But by then I'd already lost control- I felt myself go over a bump. Instead of my bike seat, there was air under me. I don't know what happened at that moment.

What I did know was that there was a ringing sound in my head and the faint sound of laughing and jeering. I was on my back, looking up at the peach coloured sky when a head obscured my view.

"Those hooligans. I can't believe. . . Are you alright, love? Should I call an ambulance?"

I looked up at the middle-aged woman whilst getting up. She held onto my arm. "I'm fine, thank you."

I saw the buggy beside her and the concerned look on her face. "Are you sure? That was quite a fall."

I moved my gaze away from her to where my bike lay a few metres away, the back wheel rapidly spinning but undamaged from the looks of it.

"I'm sure."

Before the lady decided to call emergency services, I got back on my bike and began to pedal. This time I kept a closer eye on the road having had a near death experience. I was lucky.

At least I thought I was until I slowed down. It turned out that not one but both my bike tyres were flat. With a sigh, I got off and walked the rest of the way. But I didn't go home.

After a long walk, I found myself in front of Chloe's door. I remembered what happened the last time I was here and just thinking about it even a little bit made my chest pound harder.

In a nervous gesture, I ran my hand through my hair. Only my fingers came away sticky and red. All of a sudden, the sight of the substance made my eyes water. This day was exhausting. I was exhausted.

But the day hadn't ended yet. I rubbed my hands on my jeans, coughed to get rid of the lump in my throat before finally mustering the courage to knock on the door.

That courage lasted for about 30 seconds because as soon as the door opened, I felt the pressure on my chest again. With one look, Chloe opened her arms out. The gesture was small but one that I was in need of.

I needed my friend.