Mix: F Is For Fateful

They never turned up at the bar, obviously mistaking him for some nut job they didn’t need to bother with, so he had gone home, or at least to the place he was temporarily calling home while he got himself sorted.
He’d been visiting with his sister, taking a breather from the execution of the big plan. She sympathised with him but she wasn’t overly impressed with the talk of revenge. Shit that was an understatement. She could take care of herself and she been forced to more than once thanks to her poor choice of men, but she didn’t understand the idea of actually going out there and asking for trouble. Had this come about because she had children? Maybe it had intensified but it hadn’t changed — if he thought about it he knew that deep down inside. He sighed — this was going to be one of those lone wolf things he had to pull off.
Their argument got pretty heated as they often did. They liked each other, which was a miracle given the relations between most of their family members, but they came at subjects from such different angles that it often led to heated debates.
‘What do you expect? Did you really think they were going to show up? You weren’t going to confirm your name with the barmaid so they probably sent someone out there to scope you out. They’ll come after you when you least expect it — you know that’s how it works. Shit, are you getting rusty or something? If you are you should just jack the whole idea in now or you’re gonna end up dead.’
‘So? It’s not as if I have anything to lose, is it?’
‘For God’s sake, F, don’t be so fucking childish. Do you not think I’ve lost shit in my life? I had two really nice homes until those good for nothing shits I married lost them for me. So don’t come in here telling me how you don’t have anything and how that’s a good reason for just giving up. I don’t want to hear that bullshit — I have enough to deal with without your fucking nervous breakdown. You believe in karma — ever thought you might have done something to deserve what happened to you?’
‘That’s not fair, G.’
‘Fair? For fuck’s sake, what’s fair got to do with it? You’re a grown man and you should start acting like it, not like Farrell, he’s three and he’s more mature than you are. By the way, where is Farrell?’
‘Shit, he was here just a moment ago.’
‘I know that, F. look, you go upstairs and check and I’ll go out the back.’
F loved his nephew. She was right — it wasn’t like he didn’t have a few things left to live for. Where the hell was the kid? Farrell liked to hide and for a kid his age he was good at keeping quiet — it could take ages to track him down when he was determined to stay hidden. He switched to a mode that not many who knew him would believe he was capable of — that of playful uncle. A playful uncle who was loved by his nephew. He felt bad for what he had said.
The sudden bang didn’t quite register and it was as if the screech of brakes was held captive by some kind of Doppler effect — arriving in his mind a second later. He was sprinting and he was out the front of the house in seconds, his lungs burning. The car was sat there, Farrell was sat there, he instantly registered the number plate and began to make his way over to Farrell. God, let him be all right — that was all he was asking. He heard the driver gun the engine and suddenly the car tore off. Had the driver not seen the boy? Had he not noticed there was a witness? What the hell could he be thinking driving away?

F had to help his nephew — had to do something. He started carrying him towards the house and was going to shout for his sister but she was already at the door. She was already crying, screaming louder than he had ever thought possible. And they knew. They knew that no one could do anything.