He tapped on the keypad of his phone before handing it back to me. With eyes full of unrestrained emotion, and his tone thick with gritty sincerity, he looked me dead in the eyes and vowed, “I won’t.”
LOST BOY
AOIFE
“Aoife, I promise you faithfully that nobody is going to take your baby,” my mother said for the millionth time when we walked into the house after spending most of the day at the hospital being poked, prodded, swabbed, and grilled. “They already explained this to us. Nobody is questioning you. They’re only looking out for your welfare, sweetheart.”
“Well, I didn’t ask them to,” I strangled out, mentally reeling from the twists and turns the day had taken. “I’m clearly fine, Mam. I’m healthy, I look after myself, I come from a warm safe home, so I don’t understand why my life needs to be put under the microscope like that.”
“It’s not your lifestyle they’re concerned about,” she replied, setting her handbag down on the table. “Jesus Christ, Aoife, you should have come to me.”
“About what?”
“About Joey.”
My heart sank. “Joey’s fine,” I heard myself defend. “He’s dealing with a lot with his family right now, but he’ll be fine, Mam.”
“Aoife.” She turned to look at me. “Can you not?”
“Not what?”
“Not lie to me.”
“I’m not lying.” I threw my hands up. “He’s fine!”
My mother sighed wearily. “Why didn’t you tell me that he’s missing?”
“He’s not missing,” I argued weakly. “He’s just clearing his head.”
“Aoife!”
“Maybe because I didn’t want you to think badly about him,” I admitted, voice torn. “Which is exactly what you’re doing now.”
“I don’t think badly of the boy,” she argued. “I’m worried about him. I’m worried for you.”
“Joey would never hurt me.”
“That’s not what I’m saying.”
“Then what?” I demanded. “What’s there to worry about?”
“My daughter was just put through rigorous testing for diseases I’ve never heard about before today,” she snapped, moving for the kettle. “Of course I’m worried!”
“Well, you weren’t the one prodded with needles, and you didn’t have multiple swabs rammed up your fa—”
“Don’t use that word,” she warned, shuddering. “That’s a terrible word.”
“Vagina,” I changed course and said. “Or your asshole, Mam, which, FYI, is not a pleasant experience.”
“Well, we’ll know more when you’re results come back.”
“We already know,” I growled, stalking out of the kitchen. “I’m clean because Joey is clean!”
“Aoife, wait, we need to talk about this.”
“No, we don’t,” I called over my shoulder as I stomped up the staircase. “I need to shower.”
“This conversation isn’t over, young lady.”
“Want a bet?” I grumbled, storming into my bedroom and slamming the door behind me.
Kicking off my runners, I moved straight for my bed, wanting nothing more in this moment than to curl up in a ball under the covers and hibernate.
Because it was too much.
It was all too fucking much.
Depressed and angry, I stalked over to my wardrobe and kicked the door in frustration. “Assholes.”
Furious when my phone vibrated in my pocket, I pulled it out and glared at the screen, fully prepared to see my mother’s name on the screen.
The number calling wasn’t one I had stored in my contacts.
Instantly, I was racked with panic as I clicked accept and put the phone to my ear. “Hello?”
“Aoife, it’s me.”
Three words.
Three words that took the air clean out of my lungs and my legs from beneath me.
Staggering over to my bed, I sank down and allowed myself to absorb the tsunami of relief flooding my body.
Eight days of silence had brought me close to the brink of a nervous breakdown.
Hearing his voice melted the ice around my poor battered heart.
“You bastard,” I choked out when my voice found me.
“I know.”
Trembling violently, I switched my phone to my left hand and pressed it to my ear, as tears streamed down my cheeks. “You fucking asshole!”
“I know, okay?” His voice was torn, his words slurred, and I didn’t need to be standing in front of him to know that his eyes were black as coal.
“Goddammit, Joey.” I bowed my head, feeling too much in this moment to have the strength to hold my head up. “You promised.”
“I know I promised,” came his torn response. “I fucked up.”
“You think?” I sneered, resisting the urge to throw my phone at my bedroom wall. “I’m pregnant with your baby and you just fall off the goddamn map! Anything could have happened to you, Joey. Anything. Don’t you get that? Don’t you understand how scared I’ve been?”
“I’m so fucking sorry, baby.”
Pain.
Relief.
Fury.
Devastation.
I was feeling everything in this moment.
“Are you okay?” I forced myself to ask, voice trembling. “Are you hurt?”
“I, ah, I don’t know,” he mumbled, voice strained and slurred. “Everything’s hazy and my eyes hurt.”
“Because you should still be in hospital!”
“Don’t hate me, Molloy.”
“I don’t hate you, Joey, I’m –“ Voice cracking, I sucked in a sharp breath and changed angles. “Where are you?” I demanded, shaking violently. “Whose phone are you calling me from?”
“I’m at, ah…” his words trailed off and I heard him bite back a pained groan before saying, “Kavanagh’s place.”
“Johnny Kavanagh?” My brows shot up. “How? Why? Who took you there?”
“I don’t know, Aoif,” he admitted quietly. “I’m feeling really fucked in the head here, baby. I don’t have my phone, and my ah, my wallet’s gone, too.”
“Dammit, Joe.” My heart sank. “Who were you with?”
“I don’t know,” he whispered. “My head’s in pieces. I can’t remember shit. I’m just so tired.”
“Because you’re not well,” I strangled out, blinking back my tears. “You’re sick, Joe.”
“I don’t know what I am,” I heard him say. “I don’t feel human anymore.”
Fear catapulted me into springing off my bed and pacing my bedroom floor. “Joey, you need to come home, okay? You need to come to my house right now.”
“No, no, no, I don’t want you to see me like this,” he croaked out. “I don’t want to hurt you anymore than I already have.”
“The only way you can hurt me is by avoiding me,” I urged, clutching my phone. “Ride or die, remember? It still stands, Joe. I love you.”
“I love you so fucking much.” His voice cracked. “I can’t even tell you how much because I don’t have enough words in my head to say it.”