Ive had enough
Hazel, youre frightening the boy hes our only child, our dear son Dont! Please! shouted Michael just as Hazel raised her hand.
Hazel listened carefully to the shuffling sounds drifting up the stairs. From the uneven, heavy footsteps, it was clear someone had been drinking. She sighed in exhaustion.
Michael
Turning to little Oliver, her seven-year-old, she whispered firmly, Love, go to your room and lock the door. Dont turn on your light, all right?
Is it Dad again? Oliver stopped mid-sentence, nodded knowingly, and hurried off. In his bedroom, he sat as still as he could, desperate not to attract his fathers attention. When in his cups, Michael delighted in firing off awkward questions at Oliver, mocking every response:
Well, what else can I expect from you? A quiet little mouse, just like your mother, ha!
Oliver dreaded his fathers drunken visits and did everything possible to disappear. Hed learned if his father didnt see him, there was a high chance the man would forget his existence altogether and with that, leave him alone. Hazel always warned her son to get out of sight as quickly as possible.
A moment later, the lock clicked and Michael stumbled through the front door, the stench of cheap lager wafting over at once. He fumbled with his shoes, muttering curses, lost in a drunken daze. Eventually he barked out,
Is anyone actually alive in this house? Hazel, for Christs sake, help me get these shoes off!
After taking a fortifying breath, Hazel stepped into the hall to help her husband. She didnt bother hiding her annoyance, something that set Michael off.
Unbelievable, he hissed through clenched teeth. No respect for your husband, none at all. Look at her, standing there like Lady Muck, all sour. Did you even make something edible or is it your dry, tasteless pizza again? As if anyone could call that dinner. I want proper food, a good beef stew, nice and rich with plenty of meat! But all you want is vegetables and salad you graze like a cow.
Grumbling insults, Michael finally managed to kick off his shoes and lurched toward the bathroom. Washing up and changing his clothes was the one habit he wouldnt forgo, years of Hazels gentle reminders having made it routine. Only once scrubbed and dressed in his lounge clothes did he wander into the kitchen, nearly tripping over the threshold.
Honestly, why havent you sorted out that damned doorstep? Any decent wife wouldve got rid of it, so her husband doesnt go flying every time. But you probably left it there on purpose, hoping Id break my neck
Expressionless, Hazel filled a bowl with piping hot soup and set it in front of Michael. He sniffed theatrically, then snickered, What a joke! Wipe that look off your face, will you? Standing around as if you deserve a medal for making supper. Youre a woman, its what youre meant to do. What else are you good for? Think you were born with a brain? Maybe one, and thats between your Never mind. He hiccupped and then smirked. The rest of yous as useful as a broken jigsaw none of the pieces fit.
Hazel quietly put out a couple of fishcakes, a helping of rice, and a bit of fresh salad for him. She had grown to detest watching Michael eat smacking his lips, burping, licking his fingers and making revolting noises. All the while, he watched from under heavy lids, waiting for any sign or word he could pounce on with another crude remark.
Tonight was no different. After wolfing down the soup, Michael let out a greasy laugh.
The look on your face cracks me up! What was I thinking, marrying you? My arse is better looking than your mug.
Hazel fumed quietly, while Michael cackled.
Oh, come off it. Acting like some warrior squirrel what, am I supposed to quake in my boots?
Go to bed, Hazel said, far more tense than she meant to.
What was that grumble? Michael mocked, scratching his stomach as he stood. After youve done the washing up, give us a massage. Im knackered.
Hazel bit her lip hard.
A massage
She had grown to loathe the word since the night Michael, drunk as usual, started demanding them, going on about his childhood leg troubles. No protest would satisfy him; hed shout and threaten, so Hazel complied, just wanting the outburst to end. He soon learned to get what he wanted this way and had no shame. Especially after Oliver was born Hazel couldnt let her son hear rows, and would give in to keep the house quiet at any cost.
Michaels mother, Patricia, had disliked Hazel from day one. She was convinced Hazel was a hopeless wife and mother her reputation in town supposedly beyond redemption. Always, she told her son,
Shouldve listened to me now youre stuck with a mouse wholl be running round on you before you know it.
Hazel was endlessly irritated not only by Michaels drinking but the way he held court at home. Fridays were his sacred pub nights, and whoever he dragged home for alcohol-fuelled parties expected Hazel to serve as a silent handmaid. He bragged to mates,
Thats how you choose a wife, lads someone wholl whip up a feast out of nothing, never talks back. Trained her well, I did. Shed pluck the moon for me. Im the best thing thats ever happened to her, and she knows it.
Hazel forced herself to smile in company, but Michael didnt care. When hed worked himself into a drunken lather, even the guests would attempt to rein him in. Sometimes Hazel wondered how much longer she could cope. She wanted to confide in someone, but never dared. She berated herself: she shouldve thought this through before agreeing to marry him. Now, all that was left was the endless grind of patience but for what?
One night Michael came home barely upright and immediately turned on Hazel, accusing her of everything from laziness to infidelity to slovenliness. Hazel stayed silent, hoping he would tire and go to bed. But this time his aggression was different. He stormed into Olivers room, snatched the boy up and dragged him toward the balcony.
If you dont tell me who you really had him with, Ill throw him over! His wild eyes terrified Hazel to her core but even more so, she feared for her son.
Three metres separated her from Michael, another metre to the balcony door. Not thinking, Hazel snatched up a bouncy rubber ball she used for her feet and hurled it at Michaels head. It struck dead-on, and Michael, momentarily stunned, rolled his eyes back and collapsed in a heap. Hazel leapt to Oliver, tearing him out of his fathers grip and rushing him to safety. Now in full fury, she spun toward her bewildered husband, who was just coming round.
What what was that? Hazel, was that you?
Yes, Hazel growled, grabbing the rolling pin. Were you really going to throw our son? Answer, you wretch or Ill break your legs myself!
For the first time, Michael was properly frightened. He tried to rise, but his legs wouldnt cooperate, mind fogged with fear and drink. Formerly silent Hazel now stood furious, rollings up her sleeves in preparation to attack.
Hazel, youll scare Oliver Hes our only child, our precious boy Dont! Michael squealed, backing clumsily toward the door as Hazel raised the rolling pin. He darted out, barefoot, and yelled up the stairwell,
Help, shes trying to kill me!
Hazel dashed after him, but Michael was already fleeing, so she halted and muttered,
Run along, coward.
Back inside, she gathered Oliver and whispered,
Dont be afraid, darling. I wont let anyone hurt you ever again
She didnt fully understand what had come over her. Shed put up with Michaels abuse for years first aimed at her, then their son. Shed wept at night into her pillow, only to clean herself up and go to work next day as if nothing was wrong. No one had a clue what she suffered behind closed doors.
Whenever Michael wallowed in self-pity, he went on drinking benders days on end, guzzling anything available. His hoard of stout and gin lived in a locked cupboaed, each bottle cracked open as needed. A couple of bottles got him started, and after that, hed raid the kitchen before ringing up every mate he had to demand their company until the police inevitably broke up the party.
When neighbours stepped in or called for quiet, Michael took it out on Hazel for letting it happen. Hed rage and rail so long as she comforted Oliver, making it even worse for herself.
Look at that pathetic boy hes nothing like me! Michael would shriek. Whys he so wet? Makes me sick! Even my mate Daves lad is tougher, and his girl would trample this little mouse. What sort of man will he become, eh?
You scare him, what do you expect? Hazel would try and keep the peace, but Michael would only get angrier, then pass out in a drunken stupor.
One day, Michael doubled over with abdominal pain and begged Hazel to call a doctor. When the elderly GP arrived, taking in the clear whiff of alcohol, he gave Michael an appraising look.
So, how long you had this pain? What have you eaten? Drunk? Any medication?
Hearing thered been no medicine, the doctor nodded.
Good, dont self-medicate. But you, young man, are drowning your organs with all this drink. Your liver, your pancreas, your gut youre killing yourself. All the beef and gravy in the world cant fix that. You are the problem.
Why me? Michael managed weakly. My wife cooks for me
She doesnt pour gin down your throat, the doctor retorted. She cooks, puts food on the table, and probably tolerates more from you than any saint. Isnt that right, Mrs. Turner?
Michael grumbled.
If I had a real wife, I wouldnt drink. Its all her fault she drives me to it. You wouldnt understand, doctor.
Im not discussing this further, the GP replied frostily, prepping the IV. Ill give you a drip to flush out your system. If you want to survive, quit blaming your wife and lay off the food and drink.
Knowing the doctor wouldnt listen to his sob stories, Michael sulked through the treatment, later rounding on Hazel.
Where did you find this old nag? Here to save me, or scold me? Or is he one of your old flames? Chasing after grandads now?
Enough, please, Hazel begged, exhausted. Dont you see how ridiculous you sound? Ive never seen that man before in my life.
The next day, another paramedic visit this time for his heart. Michael was frightened.
If I die, shell dance on my grave, he moaned. Cant die, Michael Turner got to show that cow what it means to know her place. Every woman should be on a lead, at your feet, ready for a slap and told to shut up.
Pumping himself up with these wild thoughts, Michael recovered quickly. Little Oliver avoided his father like the plague, and Hazel, in her sadness, wondered how shed deluded herself all these years.
All he needs is a pint and crisps, and mates to get drunk with. Hes only happy when making Oliver and me miserable. Why did I ever think having a child would change him? Hes only got worse
She remembered the endless trips to the detox clinic when Michael demanded her presence.
What about Oliver? she wanted to cry. Your mother refuses to so much as babysit. The minute she arrives shes punishing him for nothing!
Youd better mind your mouth, Michael threatened, fist raised. Dont you dare badmouth my mother. Shes a saint, deserves a statue in her lifetime. Youre not even fit to polish her shoes, understand?
Hazel replied blandly, Got it your mums a living saint and Im not worth a penny.
Michael chewed this over, thinking maybe she was mocking him, but her face was placid and obedient.
Women, who can understand them? he thought. He decided to play nice for a change.
Im only doing this for you two, he said soothingly, taking her hand. You should respect me and Mum, and not nag youd live the high life. I want Oliver to grow up a proper bloke. My dad was tough on me, and I turned out all right. Oliver needs that. None of this mollycoddling.
Hes still just a child, Hazel ventured, and Michaels face twisted in fury.
Might as well make him a girl now then, he spat. He stormed off, expecting Hazel to beg forgiveness but she did nothing. Peeking out the window, he saw her striding down the path, wiping away tears. For a moment, he felt a sting of guilt.
Suppose any mother would worry about her child, he thought. Even mine wouldve done the same
But apologising was beneath him. Shell get over it, women always do, he decided, swigging a beer the ward mate had given him.
After Hazel felled Michael with her throw, something in her changed. When Michael, finally sober, dared return home as if nothing happened, Hazel met him at the door, rolling pin in hand and a cold glint in her eye.
Let me in Ive calmed down now, Michael muttered, shifting awkwardly. Anything to eat?
Oh, yes, plenty, Hazels lips curled. Bit of a slap, maybe the belt. For pudding the rolling pin.
What? Michaels jaw dropped. Youve lost your mind, have you? Getting cocky now? Ill show you who wears the trousers, open up!
Try it, Hazel warned, shifting the rolling pin like a baseball bat. I know how to use this. Youll be seeing stars.
Are you mad? This is pathetic! but inside, Michael was doubly alarmed.
Yes, mad ever since I saw what youd do to our boy, Hazels voice held a note Michael had never heard from her before, and it scared him. Ill let you in only so you can collect your things. Get out. I never want to see your drunken face again.
Michael might have threatened her, but the rolling pin silenced him. He packed his suitcases and bags. Hazel, ever practical, had already boxed his belongings and waited only for his arrival. When he showed up, she handed it all to him and shut the door.
As Michael rode in the taxi to his mums quarters, he stewed on where hed gone wrong. Hed expected Hazel to grovel, to beg forgiveness for their son. Instead, shed knocked him flat Worse still, the bump on his forehead drew stares, much to his annoyance. Pulling his cap over his eyes, Michael sulked all the way to the dreary council house with its blue door.
The place was ancient, long overdue for demolition. Patricia had heard property agents were making offers to buy up the old flats, but she held out for some fantasy payout far beyond the value of her fifty square metres. She vowed not to sell unless she got at least a hundred with a posh renovation.
Shes got ideas above her station! gossiped the neighbours. Wants a mansion for a bedsit!
Unwanted by every local bachelor thanks to her sharp tongue, Patricia blamed Hazel for ruining her prospects.
Never trusted quiet ones, she muttered. Hazel never deserved my Michael. If only hed leave her
As if on cue, there was a knock. There stood Michael, bags in hand.
What brings you here at this hour? Youve left your wife? Patricia demanded.
Not quite. She kicked me out.
How dare she! exploded Patricia. I told you, you need to keep your wife in line! She waved a fist in the air.
Michael grimaced. I followed your advice to the letter. Look how that turned out. Mind if I shower and crash here?
As he brushed past her, Patricia caught the unmistakable scent of booze and fumed.
How dare you show up stinking of drink? Its like youve been on the lash all week!
Right you are, he sneered. You always said it was my right to drink, whenever and wherever.
Patricia bit her tongue. Shed only ever said things like that to spite Hazel; now the reality of housing her ruined her mood. She hated the thought of having to cook again especially anything with meat. Her beloved takeaway dinners were so much easier.
Still, she forced a sugary smile.
What mother would ever throw her only son out? Settle in, sweetheart. You know your way around. She bustled off to put the kettle on.
Michael was in the shower for half an hour. Patricia fidgeted, thinking of the water bill.
They sat down with tea well past midnight. Michael, searching the fridge, was unimpressed by a lone container of dried chips.
Nothing tastier in, Mum? he asked, holding it up.
Forgive me, I didnt plan on your darling wife turfing you out at this hour, she said icily. So, what happened?
Michael could spin tales for anyone but couldnt lie to his mother. She was his lodestar, the one he truly answered to. So he spilled the lot how hed tried to scare Hazel and shed knocked him senseless with a bouncy ball, only to threaten him with a rolling pin at the door.
Has she gone soft in the head? Never expected that. Shes always been meek never had it in her Patricia muttered.
Im not so sure now, Michael sighed, unexpectedly choking up. What good am I? No one understands or respects me. Everyones after something
Patricia said nothing, struggling not to agree. She understood Hazel more than she wanted to admit; few could withstand such daily torment. She knew all too well Michaels true character just like her, but with every flaw magnified further. Hazel soon called to say she wanted a divorce. That set alarm bells ringing for Patricia divorce would be disastrous for her and Michael financially
Lets just live apart for now, Michael pleaded with Hazel. Hed often threatened divorce himself, so sure shed crumble. Stop being hasty; give me a chance to be a good husband and father.
Hazel, relenting, agreed, but only if Michael visited only at set times and left her in peace the rest of the time. For weeks, Michael was on his best behaviour, enough to make even Oliver miss their old life.
Its a shame were not together. Dads really changed; hes so much nicer now
Hazel, uncertain, decided to give Michael another chance but warned: one wrong move, and hed be out for good. Michael agreed, moving back. For a brief spell, life was calm until he reverted, asking Hazel for a massage and calling Oliver a wimp. Hazel called the police.
Outraged, Michael bellowed, How could you? Im his father! How dare you treat me this way?
Why not? Hazel replied wearily. Didnt you once claim Oliver wasnt even yours?
Patricia joined the fray: This is wrong! Youre depriving the boy of his father. Whatll people say, eh you, a single mother? Show some sense! You need to be cleverer, play your cards rightHazel looked at Patricia, her patience worn through like an old rag.
I dont care what people say, she said, voice clear, trembling only a little. Im done caring. I care that my son is safe, that he grows up gentle and unafraid.
Oh, dont go all self-righteous. You think youre any better? Patricia shot back, but her voice was oddly small. Michael just stared, the old fire guttered out beneath a grey dread.
Hazel knelt beside Oliver, who shrank shyly behind her, and held him tight.
“You know whats funny?” she said, speaking softly to Oliver but loudly enough for all to hear. “I used to think I had no power at all. Turns out, I just needed to remember I could choose. I choose you, darling. I choose us.
Michaels arms fell limp; he looked suddenly fragile, a man unmasked by the glare of his own misdeeds.
The police arrived a moment later, crisp and businesslike. They asked their questions and took down statements. Michael shouted and protested at first, but the officers met his bluster with blank professionalism. Patricia hovered at the edge, her usual defiance gone silent.
By the time the door closed on the officers and Michaelescorted without ever meeting Hazels eyesthe house seemed curiously larger. Patricia hissed something about ungrateful girls and hurried off, shamed into retreat.
Hazel stood, heart thundering. It should have felt empty, but it felt something elsepossible.
Oliver tugged her hand. “Is it over?” he asked.
Hazel knelt so they were eye-to-eye. Yes, love. Its over. Its our house nowjust us. We get to decide what laughter sounds like here.
He managed a small smile, uncertain but brave.
Hazel stood and faced the hallway. The silence rang, not hollow and dead, but full of promise. The old fear had leftdrained away with the echo of slammed doors and venomous words.
She set about making tea, the way her grandmother taught her. Oliver watched, tentative, and brought out his books and colored pencils to the kitchen table without a word. There, mother and son sat side by side, drawing, sipping, discovering the meaning of quiet that doesnt have to be shattered. Each line and curl of crayon adding color to a future that belonged to them.
And outside, for the first time in years, the dawn seemed to come a little early, casting gentle gold through clean windowslighting up new beginnings.
