“Bloody Hell! Nine months?” came the yell from the other room.
My father replied, knowing there was no way to defend himself.
Nine Months.
“So… So what?!” my mother kept screaming, “So the past nine months have been a lie? For the past nine bleeding months, you’ve been with this… this bitch?”
My friends and I cringed at that last word.
We were in the other room.
We heard everything.
We heard the door slam, we heard my mum cry for another two or three minutes.
We heard a lighter flick.
We watched my mum come into the living room by herself, her voice cracking as she looked at me and sang.
“Happy Birthday to you….”