Damian's POV

"Where have you been?"

Dad got home late – again. He had been doing this for the past four weeks since I had been home each night, instead of going out like I used to, and I couldn't keep a blind eye any longer.

"I had another late night at work, son. Don't worry about it," Dad brushed it off with a smile, but I could smell alcohol and cigarettes and perfume off him, and his suit was a little rumpled.

"Unless work involves going to a club or a bar every night, you're bullshitting me, Dad," I sneered, wiping the smile off his face. And just to piss him off further, I added, "If you're even worthy of that title."

"Damian, don't be like that. I've had a long hard week and I was just grabbing some beers with the boys," Dad didn't slur when he was drunk. In fact, sometimes it was hard to tell he was drunk, but I had gotten good at picking up the little signs. Red eyes, shaky fingers, constant smiles that never quite looked right – he was definitely drunk.

"Boys, huh? Maybe that's why you're hardly acting like a man anymore, unable to face your own fucking problems and support your own family," I growled.

"Hey, I am supporting this family more than you think, Damian, so you have no right to call me out on that. Without me, you wouldn't have a roof to sleep under or food to eat, so how's that for being a man?" Dad spat back.

I shook my head, getting tired. Tired of his bullshit. Tired of dealing with him. Aunt Kate left yesterday to attend her husband's sister's wedding in Sydney, along with Tracey, so I was stuck alone with Mum, trying to take care of her when Dad couldn't. Or wouldn't.

"What kind of man doesn't even have time to take care of his dying wife, hm? Because I'd like to know," I said sarcastically.

Dad strode up to me until he was inches away from my face. We were about the same height, though I was taller by a couple centimetres, and from this close I could really smell his pungent breath as he seethed, "Listen, Damian. I've worked my butt off to pay for your mum's surgery and treatment, and this is killing me too, believe it or not. I love your mum, and I am trying to provide the financial support, so I don't appreciate your ungrateful teenage ass calling me out for actually doing something, okay?"

"No, it's not okay, Dad," I muttered, maintaining eye contact. "You think money is going to make up for the fact that you're never there anymore? Money can pay for mum's treatment, but can it also buy back the time you are wasting getting drunk and hooking up with other women instead of being there for Mum when she can barely breathe properly half the time? No, it can't," I answered my own question before Dad could rebut. I was blazing with anger I had held in for so long, and I was done with keeping it in. "So when mum dies, let's see how much of a man you'll be then, Dad."

"Damian," Dad sounded so appalled that he couldn't even form a string of words to defend himself. But he had nothing left to defend. I was right about him.

"Don't think I don't know what you've been up to," I continued. "The only reason you're at work so much is because you're probably screwing the secretary, because at least she isn't slowly dying from a terminal illness!"

Dad blinked at me, the alcohol hindering his thought processes, but I could see him take in what I said, and then I saw his face turn red. "I care about your mum!" was his feeble remark.

I scoffed. "I don't think you do anymore."

Dad scratched the back of his neck, looking guilty and lost for words. "I do, Damian, but it's hard for me. I'm trying my best –"

"If this is your best, Dad, then I want nothing to do with it," I said sternly, backing away from him.

"Then get out of my house," Dad said stiffly. When I didn't move, he raised his voice. "GET OUT!"

"You can't tell me what to do!" I countered.

"Oh, yes I can! You're a minor!" Dad laughed mirthlessly, as if he enjoyed having power over me.

I glanced at the clock on the wall. It was five past twelve in the middle of the night, which could only mean one thing. "Not anymore. I'm eighteen now."

Dad's eyes squinted at me with confusion, and I cracked an empty smile.

"Thanks a lot, Dad. You never cease to disappointment me each year."

With those last words, I trudged up the stairs, ignoring Dad's drunken calls asking me what I meant. He really couldn't figure it out, could he? But that was the problem – he never did.

Happy birthday to me.

***

My phone was blowing up when I woke up the next morning. I wasn't surprised to find Dad gone again – I was used to waking up to a Dadless house. I was also used to mum making coffee in the morning, but mum didn't do that anymore, so as my phone buzzed in my pocket with happy birthday texts from my countless mates, I made breakfast. Ten minutes later, mum walked into the kitchen looking tired, a colourful scarf tied around her head. I had joked about her looking like a Muslim but mum had just shaken her head and said it kept her head warm.

"Morning, Mum," I beamed at her as I served fried eggs on toast on a plate.

"Aw, you didn't have to do that. It's your birthday, I should be making you breakfast," Mum said with a rueful smile.

I shook my head. "No, Mum. It's fine. And besides, I should be thanking you for putting up with me for the past eighteen years, so it's on me," I placed the plate in front of her as she sat at the kitchen table, and she beamed up at me with tears in her eyes.

"When did my son get so grown up?" she chuckled with a sob.

I reached down to plant a kiss on her cheek before joining her for breakfast. One of the few foods I could actually make was fried eggs, and according to Mum I had done a good job this time. For some reason, that made me feel really good inside.

"How about we do something today, for your birthday?" Mum suggested with a smile that lit up her entire face. I hadn't seen her that excited since, well, a long time. It had been almost exactly two months since her diagnosis, and just last week we had gone to the doctor's to find out that the cancer had returned. That's right, the nightmare wasn't over. That surgery hadn't done what I had hoped it would do, which was get rid of the cancer for good. Just when I had thought mum was getting better, she had gotten bad again. But what had helped me cope through this was also the reason I looked forward to school – Mariam.

You might be thinking – what the hell, dude? You look forward to school because of some girl? And not just any girl – a Muslim girl who hates your guts? Well, yeah, I did. And I had a feeling she didn't completely hate me. I mean, that was why she still talked to me, wasn't it? Even though we were entirely different, she never hesitated to ask how mum was, and since she had given me her number (I hadn't told anyone else about this, since it would probably seem weird to the guys at school) I found myself dialling it more often as a sort of hotline for all my problems. And after every conversation we had, I'd feel better, but I'd also feel...inspired. We still had our bet, and she was teaching me about religion day by day, which wasn't as boring as I thought it would be.

Religion used to be this thing that felt more like a chore than a way of life – now I was starting to see why people like Mariam stuck to it. It made life seem more bearable when every good thing you did was rewarded in the end, and every hardship was worth it for the reward of suffering through it. As someone who wasn't religious, learning about this stuff was making me envy religious people, but I wasn't ready yet to do all of that stuff. I had to learn what it was all about, and then decide whether it was for me. For now, I was trying to help Mum, and be there for her as much as I could, since Dad clearly wasn't there. He was so absent that I was starting to forget who he was.

Mum and I decided to go to the shopping centre. Now, normally, I wouldn't dare step foot in that cursed place, because it wasn't my scene, but with Mum, I could bear it. People gave her sympathetic looks when they noticed her lack of hair which was noticeable even under the scarf she fastened around her head. She didn't wear it like Mariam did, but it still made her look like one of them, sort of. Mum had to carry an oxygen tank inside a backpack and wear a nasal cannula, which only made her condition all the more obvious, and we had to stop for breaks a lot in order for her to catch her breath.

"Let's go home now," I suggested after the third time in a row Mum had to sit on a bench.

Mum shook her head, breathing heavily. "No, Damian, I want to buy you a present first."

"You really don't have to, Mum," I pleaded with her. "You are enough as my present."

"What kind of present is this, me being so sick I can't even keep up with my son anymore?" Mum cried. "I want to get you something, like I always do for your birthday. Just let me do that for you, at least. Please."

I sighed. "Okay, Mum. But after that, we are going straight home." It was a Saturday, and though I had a ton of homework, I was sacrificing that time for mum. Besides, I had tomorrow as well to do my homework. Being a year twelve wasn't all about parties and having fun, though no one ever said it was. I just wished it was like that. And I wished mum wasn't sick, but wishes didn't come true.

Mariam told me about making "du'aa" which is their form of making a wish. She said that this special type of wish was most definitely answered by God, and if it wasn't answered, then He had a better plan. It must be annoying, having to wait on a God to grant your wish when you didn't know when to expect it. I guess that's why they called it faith.

Mum bought me a set of headphones, which I really needed since my old ones were broken. I loved my music, it was my way of chilling out when I needed a pick-me-up, and a way of just being alone without actually being alone. Because you had the music. Just the music and your thoughts. According to Mariam, music wasn't exactly allowed in her religion, and I asked her how she could survive without music. Music is life.

"Because music isn't going to get me into heaven," she replied simply.

At the mention of heaven, we had launched into a whole new conversation about the afterlife, and that night I had maths homework to do, but instead, I spent half an hour on the phone with Mariam. It was different to school, because there were no interruptions or distractions – just our words, communicating ideas and thoughts and facts. It wasn't hard to lose track of time when I spoke on the phone with her, because she often told me about things I never considered, and things I never knew, and things that made me think. I wasn't a thinking kind of guy – I preferred to just say whatever I wanted and see where that led me, but after hanging up each night, I'd re-evaluate my decisions and think about what I was going to say before I said it. What was she doing to me? Whatever it was, it was making me a better person, and Mum picked up on this.

"I just can't get over how well-behaved you've been these past few weeks," Mum said as we had dinner.

I grinned at her as I stabbed a potato onto my fork. "I'm always well-behaved," I joked.

Mum rolled her eyes. "Yeah, right, Damian, and the sky isn't blue."

"It isn't always blue," I countered philosophically. "Sometimes it's yellow. Or purple."

Mum just shook her head at me with an amused smile as she popped a small spoonful of rice into her mouth. I had helped her cook today, and I found it really fun working in the kitchen with my mum. We spent so much time together nowadays we were like best friends almost. But I would never treat my mum like I treated Aidan and Felix. I respected her way more than those two idiots.

"I'm just saying, you've changed in a good way, and I feel so lucky to have a son like you who's so kind to me every day," Mum continued, ignoring my silliness. Though I had a point, didn't I? The sky changed colours in the beginning and the end of the day, and at night. Or maybe I was just being ridiculous.

"And I'm lucky to have a mum like you," I beamed. Man, I have become such a sweet talker nowadays. I guess talking to Mariam had made me look at the positive side of things more. If I didn't, I'd be downright depressed, wouldn't I? And I couldn't afford to be depressed for the both of us – my mum and me. I had to stay strong.

Mum's eyes softened at me after I said those words. "You have become such a sweetie pie, Damian. Someday you're going to make a lucky girl feel so special."

I chuckled at this, spooning some more food into my mouth as Mum continued with the subject of girls. "So, Damian, any girls in your life?"

I almost choked on my food. It wasn't that the question shocked me, it was just that the answer did. "No," I admitted sheepishly.

Mum cocked a pencilled eyebrow. "Are you sure? Because I've heard you on the phone for hours talking to someone – your girlfriend, perhaps?"

I shook my head, laughing at the idea of someone like Mariam being my girlfriend. Yeah, right. "No, just a friend."

"Is this friend male or female?" Mum pressed. She sure wasn't going to let this go, was she?

"She's...I mean, he's a male," I hoped Mum hadn't noticed my slip-up. But she did. Of course she did.

"She?" Mum smiled knowingly. "Are you hiding someone from me, Damian? Because you've had no problem hiding all your other flings from me. Except Sam, of course."

I rolled my eyes. Sam was so two years ago. Though we were still friends, we were never getting back together – like ever. Making this Taylor Swift reference made me laugh out loud, and of course Mum was watching me with a bemused expression. "What are you laughing about?"

"Nothing, nothing," I muttered, turning back to my food.

"Anyway, all I'm saying is, whether you have a girlfriend or not, I'm sure you'll tell me when you're ready," Mum said, and for a second I just gawped at her as she scraped the last bits from her plate. She was becoming a better eater since the surgery, however the return of the cancer was taking a toll on her general health.

While I thought about scheduling a doctor's appointment again for Mum, I heard the front door creak open and Dad's voice ring through the house. "I'm home!"

I rolled my eyes while Mum shot me a stern look to be nice. While I had improved in all other aspects of my life, I still hadn't set things straight with my dad. It was hard to, when every time I looked at the guy, I wanted to punch him. But deep down, I craved his love, and his attention, so when he strode into the kitchen with a box from the Cheesecake Factory, I raised my eyebrows.

"You bought cake?" I couldn't keep the excitement from oozing into my tone. What can I say? I loved cake.

"I sure did, son. Happy birthday," Dad flashed me a grin, his eyes sliding over to my mum. To my surprise, he went over to her and gave her a kiss on the cheek, saying, "I brought something for you too, honey."

My mum's eyes lit up. Since Dad came home Mum had been glowing as bright as a bulb. She was so attached and devoted to my father that I couldn't imagine how heartbroken she would be if she found out he was sneaking around behind her back. The conversation we had last night only confirmed my suspicions that my dad wasn't as loyal as my mum thought he was. Obviously, my dad wanted to pretend his sick wife didn't exist by pursuing other women in his workplace, since I had seen his secretary and a couple of his female employees when I had done my work experience at his company. They were constantly flirting with my dad and he didn't stop them. In fact, he seemed to be encouraging them by sending them winks and shoulder squeezes – I guess I was a lot like my dad, in a way. I used to do that, too. But I would never do it while I had a wife, especially one who was really sick.

"Ta-da!"

Mum gasped when she saw what Dad had brought her. It was a dress – a really nice, blue evening gown that looked like it was made of silk. I didn't know much about dresses, but I could tell this one was a beauty.

"I want us to go out for dinner tomorrow night, just the two of us," Dad said as mum stroked the soft material. "We haven't done that in a while, Karen."

Mum glanced up at him with love in her eyes. She stood up from her seat and threw her arms around dad, who buried his head into her shoulder, mumbling, "I love you so much."

I was astounded when I saw a tear slip from his eye, and maybe I had been harsh on him, and maybe he really was trying, and I was just jumping to conclusions, so as soon as they pulled apart, I spoke.

"I owe you an apology, Dad," I began, but Dad cut me off with a hand.

"No, Damian, I owe you an apology," he insisted. "I haven't been the best dad to you, but I want to make it up to you – the both of you," he offered a smile to Mum, which she returned brightly, "Which is why I'm going to take leave from my job and spend more time with my family, something I should've done a long time ago."

"Oh, Darren, you don't have to do that. You're doing enough just working full time –"

Dad interrupted my mum with a shake of his head. "I've made enough money to last us for a while, and I want to do this not just for you, but for us." Dad knelt down on his knees and stared into Mum's eyes, while I just sat across from them forgetting all about my cold dinner and watching as if it were a soppy romance movie. "I admit, I haven't been there for you when you needed me, but I made a vow to you twenty years ago to love you in sickness and in health, and now that we've reached that point, I'm going to fulfil that promise, and stay home with you."

"What made you change your mind?" Mum inquired, eyes brimming with tears.

Dad then looked to me with a proud smile. "What Damian said to me last night made me think, and I finally realized what's important to me in this life. Not my job, or the money, or beer with the boys on a Friday night–" at this we all shared a laugh, because Dad loved having a beer with his mates at the bar while watching the football game. He was such a typical Aussie sometimes.

"But family. We're a trio, we gotta stick together. And I can't believe how selfish I've been, letting Damian do all the work, getting your sister to come over to take care of you when I should've been there to take care of you, Karen," Dad's voice began to crack, and hearing him so vulnerable made me see that he was only human. We were all human, and we were the weakest and strongest creatures of them all. Damn, I was really turning into a sop, wasn't I?

"Well, I'm glad you've finally realised," Mum laughed, wiping a tear from her eye. "You have no idea how worried I've been that you'd leave me."