Chapter Four

“So, how did it go?” Jenny asked hopefully.

“Pretty well, thanks,” came the casual reply as he took a mouthful of food.

Peter gave a little chuckle as he eyed his wife. “He won’t say any more, you should know that by now.”

Johnny signalled a wish to speak as he finished chewing.

“He don’t want me talkin’ about it Mom,” he explained before swallowing his food, “Nothin’ personal.”

Jenny nodded, no less mellow than she was before.

“What?”

“How’s it going with Ophelia?”

“Fine thanks,” Johnny replied, bewildered by the nature of her question. Of however frequently he’d been asked though, this time he’d had enough.

“Look Mom, what is it? Do you not like her or somethin’?”

It wasn’t just his mother, he noticed on glancing at Peter. His father looked equally troubled.

“Something you said about your first kiss with her,” he started.

“Again?!” he complained, but he hadn’t finished.

“It should feel right, Johnny,” he told him, “but going by what you’ve said…”

“Look, it’s fine, really,” he told them, cleaning his plate and already rising from the table.

“Where are you going?”

“To do my homework,” came the muffled reply as he continued to chew.

Another who had decided now a good time to write her homework, Ophelia had very different concerns to get down on paper. Knowing what she knew, at least about the Grunts, a wry smile played upon her face as her mind drifted back briefly to when the teacher assigned it. Write a non-fiction piece about an event or feelings in your life, she recalled, unsure what she was expecting when the books would be collected from her different classes. Ophelia was positive, however, that what with them, hers and whatever Johnny would come up with, the poor teacher would get more that she bargained for.

An eye opened sleepily to glance at the alarm clock. The hands displayed the approaching of six in the morning, the sound of movement already picked up by Ripp’s ears as he turned over in his bed. The door opened, the light-bulb blared into life to cast its harsh light onto the dozing teenager, his ears bracing themselves again for the assault that they had come to expect over the years.

“Wakey wakey Mister!”

“Morning Dad,” came the drowsy reply as he stirred, sitting up in bed.

“How many times…?” Buzz trailed off as he glanced around the boy’s room. “I thought I told you to get this tidy!?”

Ripp looked up disapprovingly at his father as he replied.

“Look, Dad, you want a nice an’ tidy room, fine. Don’t push it onto me, it’d drive me nuts after five minutes.”

“The idea of a tidy room, son, is so you know where everything is…”

“I know where everything is, thanks.”

“Listen Ripp,” Buzz told him, waving a threatening finger at him, “Either you tidy this room by tonight, or I do it for you.”

The very idea struck terror into his heart, his eyes widening as he sprang from the bed.

“Don’t you dare!” he challenged, but his father was already leaving.

Tank was up early as always, yet today he was subdued as he dutifully prepared breakfast, and was caught a little off-guard by the volume of his father’s voice.

“Morning soldier!”

“Morning Sir,” Tank replied, allowing a glimmer of a smile to tug at the corners of his mouth as he gave a salute, this time grateful that he didn’t need to turn to face him.

Something in the youth’s manner bothered Buzz. He didn’t seem as responsive as usual, his reply strangely quiet and carrying an edge he couldn’t quite place.

“Everything alright Tank?” he checked, lowering the volume of his voice.

“Sure,” came the informal reply, although as he turned to serve breakfast, it soon became apparent that was not the case.

Buzz’s face dropped as he studied the battle scars upon his son’s face, now clearly visible through lack of camouflage colours.

“No paint this morning?” was the best he could offer as he sat down.

“Got sick o’ wearin’ it,” came the simple reply as he finished serving up, before setting the plate down to give his traditional whistle.

“Any particular reason?” he asked as Tank sat by him.

The younger man merely shrugged as he picked up his fork, and shortly afterwards Buck joined them at the table. Being a child, however, he was less subtle in his observations.

“What happened to your face?”

Tank stiffly finished chewing on his morsel of food, taking the time to ponder how best to answer before he swallowed.

“I took on more than I could handle couple o’ days back.”

“Why?”

Ripp wasn’t in the mood to whistle on his way to the table, so none of the others heard him approach as they were absorbed in their discussion. Not wishing to interrupt, and with his stomach only just beginning to complain, he decided against joining them for now, instead watching quietly from the sidelines.

“I dunno,” came the meek reply, before swallowing his pride in a bid to answer truthfully. “Because I was stupid…”

Ripp saw an opener to head for the table, sitting by him to lay a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey,” he soothed, “It’s okay.”

Buzz looked from one to the other, thoroughly confused. How did they get from constantly bickering one day to so close the next?

“Did I miss something?!” he finally asked, bewildered, “What happened here?”

“I finally knocked some sense into him,” Ripp explained, his tone hardening as he waved his fork at him. “An’ you’re next, Mister.”

Buzz’s expression also toughened as he indignantly loaded his fork.

“Last time I checked Ripp, I was in charge of this household.”

“Let’s get one thing straight here,” Ripp retaliated, still gesturing with his fork, “This is home, not work. You take your tough guy, hateful attitude to work an’ damn well keep it there where it belongs. Home is not the place for this crap!”

“Who’s the father here Ripp?! Me or you?!”

“Oh, now you remember you’re a father?!” Ripp snapped, “Sure ain’t felt that way from where I’ve been sitting…!”

“That’s enough!” Buzz yelled, slamming down his fork. “All I ever get from you is back-chat…”

“An’ you’ve never wondered why?!” Ripp challenged, unrelenting in his manner even with tears beginning to prick at his eyes. “Mom was the sensible one…”

“I said that’s enough!!”

“Heard you the first time,” came the angry reply as he once more bolted down his food.

The clouds were also gathering in Johnny’s mind, with the teenage boy not in a singing or whistling mood while he waited for his knocks to be answered. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t forget the conversation with his parents the night before, yet a voice in the back of his mind was telling him not to try, but to sit up and take notice, no matter how strange it all sounded.

Okay buddy, maybe it’s time to wonder why they’re saying all this?

Why would they say that though?

Because it’s true?

How can it be? I’m happy…

Are you really? Think about it for a moment…

I’m getting a headache just trying to…

Okay, how about this? When she comes through that door…

“Johnny?”

The voice pulled him from the fog inside his mind, into the mist of reality. He could see her as she approached, but the mist obscured his perception of her, even when she took his hands.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he lied, “I’m fine.” He went to kiss her, but although she responded, her expression as their lips parted was one of concern. Meanwhile, his parents’ words resonated through his mind with more force than ever as he felt his stomach turn over.

Oh man, what’s happening to me??

“Okay,” she began softly, looking about herself in a bid to ensure they were alone, “I need to ask you something; something I should’ve asked a while back.”

“Sure,” he uttered, swallowing hard as he braced himself for the question he was beginning now to ask himself.

“Sorry I weren’t much help in there,” Tank apologised.

“Ah, don’t worry about it,” Ripp smiled, tapping his arm, “Kinda felt sorry for you two having to listen to me pop off like that, but I couldn’t help it.”

Tank smiled sadly in reply, but remained quiet. Sensing blanketed misgivings, Ripp cocked his head at him quizzically.

“You can talk to me, you know,” he prompted.

“Kinda mirrored how I felt,” came the surprising reply, “Just didn’t know how to deal with it all…”

Ripp’s heart sank at his revelation. In moulding Tank into a replica of himself, their father had never stopped to think how he’d really be feeling at his actions. Outward appearance is deceiving, Ripp knew that. Just like the face paint his brother used to wear to cover up his folly with Johnny, without which the real damage was exposed.

“Come ‘ere,” he offered.

“I’ll get ‘im,” Ripp promised, “There’s a heart in there somewhere, I just gotta find it.”

“Good luck,” Tank mused as they broke away.

“Hey, I found yours didn’t I?” he grinned, before it faded. “Thought that was an impossible task, but I did it.”

Tank’s head dropped briefly at his remark, but Ripp hooked his fingers round his jaw, pulling his head up to look back into his eyes.

“Dad seems to equate being a man with being an asshole,” he said, “You can be a man and still be a nice guy y’know, you’ve already proved it once.”

“How d’ya mean?”

“It takes guts to admit you’re wrong,” came the answer, “You did it with family at home,” He nodded to the approaching bus as he continued, “but it’s far from over.”

Tank eyed the bus as it pulled up, a knowing smile on his face.

“Johnny,” he acknowledged simply.

“Yep,” Ripp agreed as he boarded, talking back to him as he did so. “This is your big chance bro, what you do with it is up to you.”