“Fuck you, Darren,” I spat. “You don’t know a damn thing about either one of us.”
“I know my brother isn’t well,” he countered evenly. “And so do you. So, why the hell would you trap him into fatherhood?”
“I didn’t trap him.” I stiffened, feeling my hackles rise and my heart crack all in one breath. “I hardly got pregnant on purpose, did I?”
“Didn’t you?”
My blood ran cold. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Oh, come off it, Aoife.” He gave me a hard look when he asked, “He’s a handsome lad. How many times was he off his head when you let him inside your body?”
“Excuse me?”
“Hey.” He held his hands up. “If you want to storm into this house, all guns blazing, laying blame at our feet for Joey’s downfall, then I’m more than happy to hold the mirror up to you.”
“I would never hurt Joey,” I heard myself defend, refusing to back down to this emotional manipulation. This shit might float on his siblings, but not me. “I love your brother.”
“No, I love my brother, Aoife,” he argued hotly. “So, make no mistake about it when I tell you that I’m willing to do whatever it takes to protect him.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that if you love my brother as much as you say you do, then you’ll do the right thing for him and make this go away.”
“This being your niece or nephew?”
“Let’s not be overly dramatic here and start labeling a fetus,” he replied evenly. “Listen, my mother already told me that you don’t come from money. If it’s a matter of not being able to afford the trip to England, then I am more than willing to take care of the financial side of things.”
“Think about it, Aoife,” Marie joined the fray, tone desperate, as she pleaded with me. “If you won’t put your own future first, then think of my son’s.”
“I can’t fucking believe this.” Choking out a humorless laugh, I roughly batted away a tear. “Every time I think you can’t stoop any lower, you just keep on hitting it out of the park.”
“Aoife, be rational here.”
“I am being rational,” I snapped, glaring at Darren. “You do realize if Joey knew what you just offered me, it would kill him? You do get that, don’t you? This is just another in a long list of betrayals.”
“I’m not betraying my brother,” he argued. “I’m trying to protect him. And the way I see it, the only way he gets hurt is if you go running your mouth off, which in that instance, then you would be the one crushing him, Aoife, not me.”
He had me over a barrel and he knew it.
Bastard.
“Yeah, well, we’re keeping the baby,” I spat, feeling my hand drop to the small swell of my stomach, as a wave of maternal instinct washed over me. “It’s a done deal, asshole. We’ve already decided.”
“You mean you’ve decided.”
“No, I mean we both decided,” I countered, unwilling to back down or be bribed by this asshole. “And there’s absolutely nothing either of you can say to change that. You can’t pay me off or bribe me because I’m not going away.”
“Then you’re going to ruin his life.”
“Then at least he’ll be ruined with love and not pain.”
BLURRED DAYS AND WASTED NIGHTS
JOEY
My body was floating.
Slipping in and out of consciousness.
I couldn’t feel a thing.
And it was fucking glorious.
Weirdly enough, the only part of reality that my brain insisted on clinging to was the lyrics of that song.
That Mazzy Star song Molloy played on a loop.
With my eyes rolling back in my head, and my legs twitching sporadically, I lay on my side, trying to focus on the needle in my arm.
Slow.
Slow…
Not too fast.
Nice and slow.
Numbness filled my body at a rapid rate, sending me freewheeling into oblivion.
Euphoria flooded my veins, taking with it every one of my problems, until there was nothing but darkness.
Emptiness.
No pain.
Void.
I STILL LOVE YOU
AOIFE
Joey, please. It’s been two days. Just text me and let me know that you’re okay.
Can you just let me know that you’re okay!
I’m sorry.
Joe? Oh, thank god! Are you okay? Where are you? Text me where you’re at and I’ll come get you.
I fucked it, baby.
That doesn’t matter. Just tell me where you are, and I’ll come get you.
I’m not mad, Joe. I just want to see you.
Joey, please!
I don’t know, Molloy. My head is… I, ah, my phone’s nearly dead.
I’m sorry. I love you.
It’s okay, Joe. Everything’s okay. I love you, too. Just tell me where you’re at, baby, and I’ll come get you.
Are you okay?
If your phone is dead, can you borrow someone else’s and just let me know?
Joey!
Four days, Joe. Four fucking days.
The hospital called. I got that appointment.
I need you to come home, Joey!
It’s been five days.
How could you do this to me?
I have a hospital appointment on Monday. Do you plan on coming?
Everyone is asking about you, and I’m covering for your ass, when I don’t even know if you’re ALIVE!!! Please, Joey. It’s been 6 days! Just call me. PLEASE!
Seven days. Your hands better be broken, asshole, because there is no excuse for not contacting me.
Please come back to me, Joe.
Day eight and I’m going to the hospital. I have that appointment with the midwife. You’re supposed to be there too, you know.
I’m scared.
I still love you.
DO YOU FEEL SAFE?
AOIFE
Feeling extremely self-conscious, I stood on the physician scales in examination room 3B in the maternity hospital and watched as the midwife fiddled with the reading rod.
My heart was racing violently in my chest, and every ounce of blood I seemed to possess had decided to rush to my cheeks.
I loathed being weighed.
I loathed being here even more.
But the worst part of the whole ordeal was that I had to do it alone.
Today was day eight of Joey being AWOL and I was at my breaking point.
“You’re a fine tall girl, aren’t you? Just under 5’9,” the midwife mused, distracting me from my internal meltdown. “Is the baby’s father tall?”
“Um, yeah, he is,” I replied, stepping off the scales, and toeing my pumps back on. “He’s about 6’1.”
“You’ll have a fine tall baby on your hands so,” she chuckled, scribbling in the red folder that I had been given at reception. “Now, you’ve had your urine sample taken and your bloodwork done, so why don’t we take a seat and go through some medical history.”
“Okay.”
“Is baby’s father joining us?”
“Uh, no, he’s, ah…” Voice trailing off, I slumped in the chair before adding, “He really wanted to be here, but he couldn’t get time off work.”
The lie slipped off my tongue to join a whole host of other lies I had told this past week to explain my boyfriend’s absence to the people in my life. Because telling the truth was out of the question.