MAY 15TH 2001
JOEY
The weather was shit, and I wanted to die…
The sky was black, and I was pissed off…
None of it matters because it won’t put food on the table…
TOSSING my English copybook across the room, I gave up on the essay I had been attempting to write.
Glaring at my homework journal like it was the devil incarnate, I bit back the urge to roar.
What the hell was I doing?
Sitting on my bed doing fucking homework, of all things, I glowered at the wall opposite my bed and sighed in defeat.
Who was I trying to fool?
Didn’t matter whether I finished tonight’s essay or not. I wasn’t going to college, I wasn’t going anywhere, and the teachers couldn’t do shit to make me feel worse about that than I already did.
The sound of my stomach growling in hungry protest stirred me from my depressing thoughts, and I stood, knowing that I would have to face him sooner or later.
Besides, I had to be at work in an hour.
Later, Joey.
Later is always better when it comes to him.
“Fuck it,” I grumbled to myself, “you’re going to die young anyway, might as well put an expedited stamp on your forehead.”
Changing out of my school uniform, I threw on my work clothes before stepping into the landing. Ignoring the stench of piss and whiskey, I stalked down the staircase, needing to seem as aloof and unaffected as I could when facing the parentals.
It was my saving grace.
My only way of protecting myself from the prick whose prick I had been conceived from.
If you don’t care, then nothing he does can hurt you.
The minute I stepped off the last step of the staircase, I could hear them arguing in the kitchen.
Surprisingly, I wasn’t the hot topic of disappointment.
Today, it was Shannon’s turn.
“She’s not going, Marie,” my father barked, balling up a bunch of papers and tossing them across the table at Mam. “It’s out of the question.”
“But she’s so quiet, Teddy,” Mam attempted to coax. “So shy. She’ll never manage it. She’s already struggling to cope with primary school.”
“She’ll have to get over it,” Dad replied, not batting an eye. “She’s no better than the rest of them. I won’t have her sent to private school when the boys are in public.”
“I can take extra shifts at work,” Mam hurried to say. “I don’t mind. I will pay for it myself —“
“I said no,” Dad barked. “It’s not happening. Get it out of your head.”
“What’s going on?” I asked, walking into the kitchen.
“Your mother thinks your sister needs to go to private school next year when she finishes up primary,” Dad, who was sober for a change, told me. “Thinks she’s too sensitive for BCS.”
She was.
Shannon had a hard time fitting in with people, a very fucking hard time, and I often wondered what would happen to her when she eventually started secondary school.
To be honest, it was a thought that terrified me to my core, so I tried not to think about it.
Because they kept her back in baby infants, Shannon was three years below me at school, so when we went our separate ways at the school gates of BCS next year, with her as a first year and me as a fourth year, she wouldn’t have anyone to look out for her – something that she badly needed.
The girls in her class at primary school were septic, and had given her hell since baby infants, and those were pubescent girls.
The teenage girls she would face when she started secondary school would be a different kettle of fish to handle.
My sister did have a couple of friends – one nice girl called Claire, I remembered in particular, who, would, no doubt, be heading off to Tommen College after primary school to join her rugby-head brother, Hughie.
Unfortunately for Shannon, she would be heading for BCS with me.
There wasn’t much I could do for her, besides get myself suspended defending her honor, which I had no doubt would happen.
One of these days, my sister was going to have to fight back.
“How much is Tommen?” I asked, raiding the fridge for a packet of ham.
“Several thousand a year,” Mam replied. “But it looks to be a fantastic school. And I have an entire year to save up for the tuition. She’s only finishing fifth class now, so I have plenty of time to make it work. I really think it would be the best place for her—”
“There’s nothing wrong with the local community school,” Dad rebuffed with a snort. “It’s free and we both went there, Marie. And would ya look at Joey. He’s doing just grand there. He’s flying road with the hurling. He’s already training with the underage team and didn’t need a fancy fucking education from Tommen to get there, either.”
“Yes,” Mam said carefully. “But Shannon isn’t Joey.”
“Thank Christ for that,” Dad muttered.
I tensed, unsettled by the rare compliment, before finishing preparing a ham sandwich and grabbing a can of coke from the fridge.
I tried to keep a cool head, a calm disposition, and a handle on my temper. It never came easy to me, though, and was growing more impossible with every extra second that I spent in his company.
It didn’t sit well with me when my father complimented me or spoke like a civilized human being.
In a messed-up way, I preferred his drunken slurs and angry slaps.
At least I knew where I stood with those.
He’d been on the dry for three weeks now, and I knew it was only a matter of time before he fell off the wagon.
Because my father was an alcoholic.
Addiction ruled his life.
That was the pattern his life had taken, and I hated him for it.
But not as much as I hated myself for following in his footsteps.
A smoke to sleep, a line to function, and whatever else I could get my hands on to escape.
It had been my mantra for a long time now.
I knew I was too young to be walking this particular line, but in all honesty, I didn’t have any other options available to me.
In my head it was die or get high.
And I had too many people depending on me not to die.
Fuck.
Pushing all thoughts of self-loathing out of my head before I snapped and did something reckless, I turned to my parents and said, “I think ye should send her.”
“To Tommen?” Mam asked, tone hopeful.
“Yeah.” I nodded, chewing down a mouthful of my sandwich. “It’d be good for her. You’re right, Mam. Shannon will get swallowed up at BCS.”
“And how do you propose we fund this ‘several thousand euro each year’ private school?” Dad demanded, turning his glare on me.
“Gee, I don’t know,” I shot back, gesturing to my oil-stained overalls. “Maybe by getting off your hole and getting a job like the rest of us.”
“Oh, Joey,” Mam sighed, dropping her head in her hands, as my father jerked to his feet so fast it caused the chair that he’d been sitting on to slide across the kitchen tiles.
“The fuck did you say to me, ya little bastard?”
“Do you need a hearing aid? I said get off your hole and get a job.” Unwilling or just plain unable to keep my mouth shut, I continued to sign my own death certificate. “Believe it or not, there’s plenty of them out there. Granted, I’m yet to hear of one that pays well for your qualifications. I suppose, in your defense, it won’t be easy to find a pub that’ll pay you to prop up their bar – expert that you are and all that.”
I didn’t duck or try to avoid the fist that crushed into my jaw.
There was no point.
He wouldn’t stop until he got his pound of flesh.
It was either take my beating now or later.
I chose to get it over with now.
I did, however, regret not putting my can of coke down first as it flew out of my hand across the kitchen.
That shit was expensive.
My head snapped back from the force, the pain from his knuckles took the air clean out of my lungs, but I didn’t let him see it. I would rather die than expose an ounce of vulnerability to the man I had the misfortune of calling my father.
Breathing hard and fast, I quickly ran my tongue over my teeth, assessing the damage, as the familiar tangy taste of blood filled my mouth.
My body was a map of cuts and bruises, scars and distortion. Nothing would change. Nobody would ask and I wouldn’t – couldn’t – tell.
Taking it on the chin seemed to be the norm for me. Besides, if I took the brunt of his bad mood, it meant that they were spared – that she was spared.
My father was a powerful man, and there was a hell of a lot of force behind those punches he threw. They were hard enough to knock me sideways, but not enough to shut me up.
“Is that it?” Like a suicidal masochist, I laughed into his face. “You’re getting soft, old man.”
“Teddy, don’t,” Mam begged, rushing over to intercept her husband’s arm before he could rear back once more. “He’s only a boy.”
“Don’t do me any favors,” I sneered, hating her for defending me. She didn’t fucking love me. She thought I was the same as him. “I don’t need you to do shit for me.”
“Watch your mouth, ya little fucker,” Dad warned, knotting his beefy hand in my t-shirt. “Don’t talk to your mother like that. Not in her condition.”
“Like what? Like you do?” I laughed, roughly shoving him away, quickly backpedaling once I registered what he said. “Wait, what do you mean in her condition…” I held up a hand, feeling like I was suddenly suffocating as the walls closed in around me. “Don’t say it.” Feeling lightheaded, I glanced between them before my eyes reluctantly settled on her stomach. “Don’t fucking say it.”
Mam placed her hand on the small swell of her stomach, and I wanted to die. “We’re having another baby, Joey.”
No.
“I’m due in November.”
No.
“The doctors reckon it’s another boy.”
Please God fucking no.
“It’ll be different this time, Joey,” Mam hurried to add, almost jumping out of her skin when Dad wrapped his arm around her. “You father is off the drink. For good, this time. We’re working through everything—“ her breath hitched, and she cleared her throat before whispering, “This baby is our fresh start.”
Liar.
Liar.
Liar.
Babies weren’t supposed to be made in order to plaster over cracks in marriages, but that’s what this one would be. That’s what each one of us were, temporary plasters to cover the cracks in our parents’ dysfunctional relationship.
Numb, I stared at my mother’s face, as a new level of devastation washed over me. “You planned this?”
Mam opened her mouth to reply, but he got there first.
“We both did,” Dad snapped. “Now, aren’t you going to say anything to your mother and me?”
“Congratulations,” I replied in a dead tone – a lot like how I felt in that moment. Shaking my head, I stepped around them and moved for the door, grabbing my training bag as I moved. “I’m working until half six, and I’ve a match after, so I’ll be late home.”
“It will be different this time, Joe,” Mam called after me, voice thick with emotion. “I promise.”
“Yeah,” I agreed, before closing the front door behind me. Because this time, I had no intention of remembering any of it.
Not a damn second.
By the time I had made the walk to work, my mood had darkened to the point where I honestly didn’t think I could handle another ounce of bullshit.
However, that’s exactly what I got the second I walked into the garage and locked eyes on none other than Molloy, hand in hand, with her lapdog of a boyfriend.
Wonderful.
Just fucking wonderful.
“Hey, Joe,” Molloy said with a beamer of a smile, noticing me the second I walked into the building.
I nodded stiffly. “Molloy.”
“Joey, lad,” Tony said with a warm smile. “How are you?”
“Grand, Tony. Sorry I’m late,” I muttered, stalking past them to store my hurley, helmet, and gear bag in the office.
I was in no mood to play a match tonight, but sometimes the matches I wasn’t in the form to play ended up being the best ones.
I was certainly riled up enough for it.
Returning to her conversation, Molloy laughed and chatted to her father, while Paul the prick stood alongside her like a, well, like a spare prick.
He blonde hair was loose today, flowing freely down the middle of her back, and I swear I’d never seen anything like her.
Like an angel with dirty wings, she batted her long lashes at her father, concealing that sharp tongue I knew she possessed, as she played the role of darling daughter and all-round good girl.
But she knew better.
So did I.
She reminded me of one of those beautiful, exotic caged birds you’d see in a backstreet pet shop; out of place and itching for freedom.
Somehow, I doubted she got that by walking around holding hands with a stiff like Paul fucking Rice.
In the beginning, I had assumed that Molloy was trying to get one up on me by going out with my teammate. My lack of attention had pissed her off, and she wasn’t the type of girl to lie down to anyone. I had been positive that their relationship was her way of goading me.
Problem was, fifteen months had passed since she agreed to go out with him, and while they were off more than they were on, and he treated her like shit, she always went back to him.
That unsettled me.
It fucking stung.
I knew I had no right to feel any type of way about it, but that didn’t stop me from feeling every type of way about it.
The hell was she doing with a fella like Paul Rice?
He was too boring for her and had a shit right hook.
She needed excitement and to be challenged.
It was written all over her face.
She waited for you, remember?
He wasn’t her first choice.
Pretending that it didn’t hurt me to see her with him was something that I had no choice but to master.
So, like I did every other time she came into the garage, flaunting her fantastic fucking boyfriend, I handled the knife in the gut sensation like a trooper, and went about my business.
Thrumming with tension, I quickly set to work, sorting through a pile of tires that needed their tread tested.
Ignoring the couple playing happy fucking families behind me, I let my thoughts wander to my mother.
Another baby.
Due to be born in November.
That meant, he or she would only be three when I turned eighteen.
I would be leaving a toddler behind when I got the fuck out of that house.
Jesus.
A shudder rolled through me, and I clenched my jaw so tight it hurt my teeth.
You see, I had made a deal with myself; I’d promised myself that I would see it out until I finished school. I’d be eighteen and a half by then. I would stay in the house and look after my brothers and sister until then. I could do it. I could hold on until then. But afterwards, once I finished my leaving cert, I was getting the hell out of there.
I had a whole plan thought up in my mind.
I would get a second job, something that was full-time and made good money, and with it I would put a deposit down on a cheap one-bedroom flat. Shannon would come with me. She could have the bedroom and I would take the couch. It would be small and basic, but it would be ours.
A few months would pass by and, as I made more money, we would upgrade to bigger place, where Ollie and Tadhg would join us. They would be eleven and thirteen by then, old enough to look after themselves.
Nowhere in the blueprint of my mind did I foresee having another sibling to care for, let alone a potential toddler.
I wouldn’t be able to do it.
I would have to work during the day, and maybe some nights, too.
I couldn’t look after the baby.
But I couldn’t leave them look after the baby, either.
For fuck’s sake.
