Rip - Trust (Completed)

A start, I suppose

Their father almost knocked them over when he came marching back out the shed, holding on to the back of Rip's neck with the one hand and carrying the rolled-up strop in the other. He looked perplexed seeing his two sons in front of him. He handed Jamie the strop and said, "Put that in the bin." He didn't wait for a reply and walked the boy to the house.

"You do know that the carpenter actually uses it for his chisels!" Robert called after him.

The old man stopped without turning around; he had actually forgotten that the implement had an entirely different function that he had been using it for. "Tell him to bring his own from now on!" he simply replied.

"How was the rest of your day? Did you catch anything?" Jamie asked Robert.

"Nah, no one was really in the mood for it after Samuel left early this morning, and there was kind of no point without you guys. We ended up just going swimming instead."

"What about the paddle?" Jamie asked his brother. "What you think, will I put that in the bin as well?"

"I wouldn't, if I was you!" Robert laughed. Jamie was tempted but didn't have the courage. It's a start I suppose, he thought.

"In here, we need to talk!" Mr Dutton directed Rip into the study. He asked him to sit in one of the armchairs, but the boy sullenly told him he'd rather stand. So instead of an armchair Mr Dutton sat himself behind his desk and turned to look out of the window. Not exactly a great start to a conversation but then what do you expect after the walloping you just gave him. 

Mr Dutton was at a loss. He had no idea what to do next. All he knew was that as a father it was his job to set the boy straight, and keep him in line, to make sure he knew that what he had done in the vet's office was intolerable and wouldn't dare to do it again. 

Had Dante not said anything to him, he would have made him lie on the bed and used his belt on him. He would have used the bed instead of putting him across his lap because of his injured shoulder but otherwise he would not have treated him any more favourably because of it. 

No questions asked, he would have told him what he did wrong and would have drove the lesson home blow by blow. And he would have felt justified doing it. None of his children would have ever behaved like this, not even when they were little and didn't know any better. They would have never addressed an adult in that manner.

But then again, they never had to fend for themselves, and figure out who were the bad guys and who were the good. He never took pleasure in hurting them but saw it as his duty as a father. He was certain they knew that but having seen Rip's chest today he was wondering if Rip understood the difference. He turned around to face him.

"It's inexcusable what you said to Dante today, he was kind to you and his partner prepares every meal you eat. They are both friends of the family. What you implied, that he wanted to touch you in that way, was a real insult, you know that don't you?" he asked. 

The boy was taken aback by his uncle's sad and disappointed tone of voice and nodded, "Mmm!"

"That's not an answer", his uncle said crossly, sounding more like himself again. 

"Yes, Mr Dutton, I do know. I meant to say sorry." Rip said quietly, he sounded sincere.

"Why did you not?" his uncle asked.

"I don't know, it just didn't happen I suppose", the boy shrugged his shoulders. 

His uncle picked up the telephone and dialled the number, then handed Rip the receiver.

"Oh no, what will I say?" he asked but took the phone all the same and held it to his ear.

"You'll think of something!" Mr Dutton told him. 

"Ahm, yeah, hi? ...It's Rip... yeah okay I guess ...I just phoned to say I am sorry for what I said to you, you know, those names I called you ...I didn't mean it, I didn't mean any of it ...I just, I wanted to stop you from, you know, my shirt ...I didn't want anyone to see ...I'm really sorry. ...Thank you! ...You have been very good to me today. Thanks for fixing me up... No, he didn't, not yet anyway...No, I am afraid I don't think I would... Goodbye", he handed Mr Dutton the phone back. 

"Well done!" Mr Dutton was impressed and surprised by the maturity the boy had displayed in his apology.

"Years of practice", the boy admitted. Mr Dutton was also rather pleased in himself, having managed to have this conversation with his nephew and getting him to cooperate without needing the threat of physical force. He did not think it possible. On a roll he added, "as your punishment, you will be housebound for a week!" Mr Dutton said. 

"What the fuck does that mean, are you going to lock me up?" the boy asked he sounded exasperated. His temper had changed in an instant, "I'd rather take a beating," he said to appease his uncle when he saw him moving to get out of his chair. His uncle realising just in time that the boy was afraid, sat back and reassured him, "You are just grounded. You'll stay inside the house. You won't be on your own and I will give you things to do. Now go upstairs and get changed, it's dinner time soon."

But then he changed his mind and called the boy back, "Rip, you don't have to answer but I would like to know: those scars on your chest; are there any more?" The boy turned his head and looked into the distance through one of the windows. 

Part of him wanted to tell him and part of him didn't. They had seen them in the hospital when they sedated him on the day of the incident, but he refused to talk about it and never had shown them to anyone ever since. A teacher had seen the one on his left palm when it was still fresh but was happy with his explanation that he had been smoking and trying to hide it from his father.

"Please sir, may I go now?" he asked his uncle in a very quiet voice.

"Yes, you may!" his uncle said. 
I take that as a yes, Mr Dutton thought.