“She means fostering,” John explained with a sigh. “Edel, would you back up, sweetheart, and give the boy space. You can’t crowd him, remember? Baby steps.”
“Oh Jesus, yes,” she mumbled, hurrying to her husband’s side. “Of course, I’m sorry, Joey love.”
“Fostering.” I stared blankly at them. “The fuck?”
“We’re already approved,” Edel blurted out. “We’ve been foster parents before. It’s not our first time, love. And we can offer you stability and safety and—”
“No!” I choked out, practically climbing the wall backwards in my bid to escape. “Jesus Christ, no.” Panic stricken, I looked around uncertainly before locking eyes on John. “I want to leave.”
“You can leave any time,” he assured me, keeping a firm hand on his wife’s shoulder, who looked like she was seconds away from springing towards me. “Right now, if you wish.”
“Good.” Blowing out a shaky breath, I cagily walked to the utility room door that led to the back door, only to hesitate when I reached for the door handle.
No, wait.
Hear them out.
Think of the kids.
Jesus Christ, what was I doing?
Run, lad.
Get the fuck out of this place.
“When you say you want to foster us.” Turning around, I eyed them warily. “Are you offering my siblings a home?” I looked around. “Here?”
“We’re offering all of you a home,” John replied. “Sean, Ollie, Tadhg, Shannon, and you, Joey.”
“I don’t…” Swallowing down the lump in my throat, I quickly shook my head. “No.”
I could see the devastation flash across his wife’s face, and I felt like a prick.
“I don’t want to be fostered,” I said slowly, trying to find the words I needed to make sense of this madness. “But I think…” Jesus Christ, why was this so fucking hard? Why couldn’t I just think clearly? “My brothers and sister might…would…need… fuck, I can’t get it out!”
“Take your time, love,” Edel said in a soothing tone. “Take all the time in the world.”
“I don’t know you,” I bit out, pinching the bridge of my nose, as I forced down a wave of nausea. “And you don’t know me.”
“We’d like to get to know you, Joey,” John said calmly.
“No.” I shook my head. “Not me. I’m off the table.”
Edel shook her head. “But—”
“Let the boy speak,” John cut in, giving her hand a supportive squeeze. “I’m listening, Joey.”
“I’m fucked up,” I admitted, shrugging helplessly. “And I mean I’m really fucked up in the head.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Yeah, I am.”
“That’s okay, love.”
“No, it’s not,” I protested with a shake of my head. “You don’t want me in your family. Trust me. But Shannon and the boys?” I shrugged again, filled with desperation. The prospect of getting my siblings out of the shitstorm of a life we’d been born into was dangling in front of me like a gold nugget. God knows I didn’t know these people, and I wasn’t even sure if I trusted them, but right then, in the state we were in, they could offer the kids a hell of a lot more than Mam could. “They deserve a better life than the one they’ve been dealt.” Swallowing deeply, I forced myself to say, “They deserve to have parents.”
“From what I can tell, they’ve always had one,” John said, giving me a meaningful look. “You’ve been one hell of a father, Joey Lynch.”
“Except that I’m not,” I croaked out. “I’m not their father, and I’m fucking tired of having to be.” There it was. Admitted out loud. For what I thought might be the first time ever. “I can’t do it anymore,” I continued to spill my confessions, too weary and broken in the head to cover it up. “I can’t keep raising them in that environment. If someone doesn’t get them out of that house, they’re going to die or worse, turn into me.”
“When you say die?”
“I mean die,” I confirmed, feeling weirdly liberated having adults finally listen to my worries and take me seriously. “Our father’s not done with us and our mother’s not stable enough to protect us. If they stay in that house, they’re fucked, and I don’t want that for them. So, if…fuck, I can’t believe I’m even saying this, but if you’re serious about fostering Shannon and the boys, then I won’t stand in your way.” I paused for a moment, trying to clear my thoughts, before warning, “But Darren will.”
“Ah yes,” John sighed, drumming his fingers against the marble island. “Darren.”
“He’s not in this for the long haul,” I decided to throw them a bone by saying. “He couldn’t stick it out before, so he’s even less likely to do it now that he’s had the taste of freedom. But he’s our mother’s blue-eyed prince, and his word is golden. Those two are thick as thieves, so he’ll take you on to retain his spot as mammy’s righthand man.” Folding my arms across my chest, I gave them a hard look, trying to take their measure before throwing my two cents into the mix. “The way I see it, the younger kids are crying out for change. They don’t want to be in that house with our mother any more than I do. Problem is they’ve never been offered a safer alternative.” Until now. “All four of them will fold like a deck of cards,” I added. “If they’re told they can.”
“By someone they look up to,” John filled in knowingly. “By someone they trust. By someone like you.”
“You want me to go out on a limb for you and your wife. You’re asking me to do something I’ve never been able to do before. Something I’ve been programed to never do.” Returning to the stool I’d abandoned, I sank back down and dropped my head in my hands, elbows resting on the marble countertop, as I fought my fears and tried to do the right thing. The real right thing. Not the fabricated version that had been drilled into my mind since childhood. “I want to help.”
“You do?”
With my brother’s voice inside of my head screaming no, no, no, I forced myself to nod stiffly and bit down on my fist.
Do this for them.
You can save them.
Get them out.
Trust these people.
“I’ll support your case. I’ll back you up with the social workers. I’ll give an honest statement to the authorities. I’ll lay all of my parents shit bare, and expose them for the neglectful pieces of shit that they are, if it means those kids don’t end up like me, but if you fuck me over? If you hurt them…” Exhaling a shaky breath, I turned my glare on John Kavanagh. “If you even think about putting your hands on my siblings, it won’t matter how much money you have, or what fancy law degrees line the walls of your office, I will come for you, and Jesus Christ himself won’t be able to save you.”
“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” John replied calmly, not taking my threat to heart. “I’m not going to promise you with words, because it’s clear to me that you’re a man of action.”