You're just like me, boy.
You'll do more harm than good.
“He’s in your head again, isn’t he?” the doctor noted. “Your father?”
Fuck, she was intuitive.
“I don’t know if I can break the cycle, but I want to.” Needing to move, I stood up and paced the small confines of my room. “I want to so fucking badly that it keeps me up at night. It's why I went back that night. Why I let Lizzie talk me off the edge. Why I didn’t throw myself off that bridge. Why I'm here right now.” Frustrated and anxious, I cracked my knuckles and walked to the window. “I know I'm not good enough, but I want to be.”
"How are the withdrawals?" she changed the subject by asking.
The withdrawals were the worst.
For days, I felt numb, angry and lacking in energy.
I didn’t want to speak to anyone, didn’t want to lift a finger.
“Better,” I told her, eyes locked on a group planting flowers in the gardens outside. “Manageable.”
“That must be a relief for you.”
“Will the memories fade?”
“Doubtful. But they will become manageable. Bearable. You'll find a middle ground on which to rebuild your foundations. You'll learn to cope. That’s why you’re here. To rebuild.”
“I can still smell her.” I released a shuddering breath. “I can still smell him.”
Deciding it was too painful to breathe, I kept poker stiff, nostrils and airways on lockdown, waiting for the wave of sorrow to pass.
Praying it would do so quickly.
Finally, it did.
“When can I call her?” Turning back to face the doctor, I leaned against the windowsill at my back and asked, “I need to talk to her.”
“Not yet.”
“I’ve never not spoken to her in this long,” I admitted, feeling pissed off, but knowing that this woman was relentless. She wouldn’t bend. God knows, I’d tried enough times. “Please, doc. She’s my best friend.”
SCHOOL’S OUT FOR SUMMER
AOIFE
“That was painful,” I declared, following my friends out of school after finishing up the last exam of our secondary school academic career.
Six years of preparation.
Well, six years of prep work for Kev and the others.
It was more like six years of shits, giggles, and banter for us four.
And now it was all over.
“That was a total bust,” Podge grumbled, scratching the back of his head. “My mam’s going to go mental when the results come out in August.”
“At least you guys will be away when the LC results come out. I’m going to have to deal with my mam in the flesh.” With a dramatic sigh, Casey unzipped her school bag and emptied the contents into the huge communal wheely bin outside the school, while Podge did the same.
Meanwhile, Alec threw his entire schoolbag inside before stripping off his school uniform and tossing that in, too. “I’ve waited six bastard years to do that,” he declared, standing shamelessly in his jocks, while he rummaged around in his gear bag for a t-shirt and shorts to throw on. “And I’m telling ya, lads, it felt just as good as I imagined it would.”
“I can’t believe you guys are going to miss the debs,” Casey grumbled, giving Alec an accusing look. “What am I supposed to do, huh? By August, Aoife’s going to be ready to pop. Joey’s… let’s not even go there. And you guys? You’ll be off whoring and touring across the United States, leaving me friendless, dateless, and dickless. It’s bullshit.”
“Ah, don’t be cranky,” Alec crooned, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pressing a kiss to her hair. “You know I’ll be coming back for my little devil-tits.”
“He might be out by then,” Podge said, giving me a sympathetic look. “Any word?”
I shook my head, feeling that familiar swell of devastation wash through me. I hated being asked that question. It was something my parents had asked me three times a day since he left for rehab. Every time I had to answer and say no, another little piece of my heart was chipped away.
I got it.
Joey couldn’t call.
He didn’t have access to technology, nor had he been granted visitor privileges.
But that didn’t mean that his lack of contact didn’t scald me.
“Lad, I can’t wait to see him again,” Alec said in a wistful tone. “It’ll be weird as hell, though,” he added with a chuckle. “Having a conversation with Lynchy when he’s not off his tits.” He frowned then and scratched his chin. “You know, I don’t think that’s ever happened before.”
“Not helping, dopey,” Casey grumbled, elbowing him in the ribs. “Joe’s going to kick ass in treatment, and then he’s going to come home, clean, sober, and ready to kick ass in fatherhood.”
“Well, that’s a given,” Podge replied.
“Lynchy’s got this, sexy legs,” Al agreed, giving me a supportive smile. “You’ll see.”
“Yeah,” I replied, offering them a bright smile.
I hope so.
POKING AND PRODDING
JOEY
While the rest of my family and friends were enjoying their summer, I was spending mine inside a mental health facility, with doctors who tried to undo the damage already done to my fucked-up brain.
Every day it was something.
Every damn day, there was a new topic to broach.
If the doctors and therapists weren’t probing my feelings towards my father, then they were forcing me to speak about the death of my mother or dissecting my relationship with my girlfriend.
Christ, even Granda Murphy had been dragged up in conversation. Nanny, too. Nothing was sacred to these people. Every inch of my life, from birth to present day, was as enticing to them as drugs were to me.
The worst was when they asked me how I felt about my mother’s passing.
Passing.
Like she passed off somewhere.
I hated that world.
Mam didn't pass away.
She was taken.
Fucking stolen.
And I blamed her.
I spent my life hating on her, blaming her for things I couldn't understand at the time.
I didn't get it.
Still couldn’t.
But she was my mother, and she died thinking I hated her. That would never sit well with me, and nothing these doctors could say would repair that hole in me.
Nothing.
Thinking clearly for the first time in several years, I faced my demons with a loaded conscience and a crushed heart.
The stupid fucking journal I'd been encouraged to keep in hospital felt unbearably heavy in my hands, filled with more darkness than I knew what to do with.
Trusting wasn't something that came easily to me, not even when it came to writing in a fucking journal.
Hating, on the other hand, did.
I excelled at hating the world.
Not just the world, but everyone in it.
Except for her.
Yeah, she was my only exception.
LONG HOT SUMMER
AOIFE
I saw him again yesterday.
Coming out of the GAA pavilion when I was driving home from work.
Of course, I was wrong.
It wasn’t Joey; just some tall lad with his hood up, and a hurley in hand.
But I pretended it was him. For a split second, I imagined he was still here, and I wasn’t completely alone.