“Where do you think you’re going, Aoife?”
“I think she’s going to get fucked, miss,” Alec offered up with a chuckle. “In the literal sense, this time.”
“Language,” Miss Lane warned Alec, before turning her attention back to me. “This isn’t drama class, Aoife. No need for the Bonnie and Clyde reenactment. Return to your seat.”
“But—"
“Now, Aoife.”
“Ah, miss, don’t be a cock block,” Alec chimed in, encouraged by the class full of boys egging him on. “Did ya see the big bull head on Lynchy? You only have one class with him; the rest of us will be in the firing line all day. Let her go and sort him out. He’ll be in much better form for the rest of the day.”
“You can get out of my classroom,” Miss Lane ordered, glowering at Alec. “Straight to the office to collect a red book of your own.”
Deciding this was my perfect opportunity to escape, I made a dash for the door.
Ignoring the laughter coming from behind me, not to mention our year head’s voice as she shouted after me, or Alec subsequently calling out ‘you’re welcome,’ I hurried out of the classroom, leaving my bag behind, and trusting that Casey would pack up for me at the end of class.
My original plan was to head for the back of the PE hall, knowing that was one of Joey’s chosen spots to frequent, and if that failed, then I would try the school sheds, but my plan quickly flew out the window when I reached the front entrance of the school and my eyes locked on none other than Marie Lynch coming out of the principal’s office.
“Aoife.” The minute she noticed me, she moved in my direction, making a beeline for the exit that I was desperately trying to get to. “Please, can I speak to you?”
My feet reluctantly faltered before coming to an abrupt stop, while my head told me to keep going. “What are you doing here?”
“I had a meeting with the principal,” she said, when she closed the space between us, meeting me at the door. “I know that I’m the last person you want to speak to right now.“
“The second last.”
“Excuse me?”
“You’re the second last person I want to speak to.”
She had the good grace to wince. “Yes, well, would you mind walking with me for a moment so I can talk to you?” she asked, gesturing to the entryway double doors. “Please. It’s important.”
Deciding that Joey’s mother was someone that I couldn’t avoid forever, I nodded stiffly and followed her outside, falling stonily into step beside her.
“How have you been?”
“Fine,” I replied, tone stiff.
“Are you sure?”
“What did you want to talk about, Marie?”
When she realized that she wasn’t getting anywhere with that line of questioning, she released a heavy sigh and rubbed her forehead with her small hand. “I’m worried about Joey.”
Yeah, me too. “Why?”
“I think he’s falling into bad patterns again.”
“Yeah.” Sighing heavily, I wrapped my arms around myself as we walked, ignoring the torrential March downpour. “I’ve noticed.”
“So, he is here?” Relief flooded her eyes. “He came to school?”
“He was here,” I corrected flatly. “He left class pretty much as soon as he arrived.”
“Oh god, that’s what I was afraid of,” she choked out. “I don’t know what to do with him, Aoife. I really don’t.” She shook her head. “I don’t know how to help.”
“No offense, but it’s kind of impossible for you to help him when you’re the source of his pain.”
She flinched from my words, but didn’t argue.
Because she knew just as well as I did that she had a huge role to play in her son derailing.
Again.
“I deserve that.”
“It’s not about what you deserve, Marie,” I bit out. “It’s about the truth.”
“He told me that you asked him for space,” she hedged nervously. “That you didn’t want to see him anymore.”
Devastation flooded me. “I said a lot of things that I didn’t mean to him.”
“Then we have something in common,” she replied sadly. “We’re both guilty of directing our anger and pain at the wrong person.”
“Why are you telling me this?” I asked, coming to an abrupt stop when we reached the edge of the carpark and my eyes landed on her husband’s car.
With said husband sitting in the driver’s seat.
Oh god.
The mere sight of the man made me physically shudder, and I found myself taking a step backwards. “What do you want from me?”
“What I said to you when we first met,” she blurted out, stepping in front of me, in what I presumed was her pathetic attempt at shielding me from his view. “About how I thought that you needed to stay away from my son? Well, I was wrong.”
My brows furrowed. “You were wrong?”
“Joey needs you,” she continued to say, blue eyes full of lonesome sincerity, as the urgency in her tone grew. “More than he needs me, or anyone else, for that matter. For most of his life, my son has been so hell bent on escaping his mind, that he’s never given a second thought to destroying himself in the process. But with you, since my son has been with you, he’s different. It’s not only that he’s present, but it’s that he wants to be. You soothe something inside of him, something that his father and I are responsible for breaking, and I don’t want to see him have that snatched away from him again.”
“Why are you saying this?” I asked, gaze flicking from her face to the car I could see over her shoulder. Anxiety gnawed at my gut, and it took everything I had in me to stand my ground and not run away.
“Because I made a mistake, Aoife,” she replied in a shaky tone. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes when it comes to my son, but this is one that I hope I can make right.” She looked me in the eyes then, imploring me to hear her, when she said, “Don’t give up on him, Aoife. Please don’t give up on my boy.”
The sincerity in her voice threw me and it took me a few moments to gather my thoughts before I could respond.
“Nothing you said about Joey changed anything for me,” I heard myself say. “I know your son is worth loving – worth saving – even if the rest of the world can’t see it.” Even if he can’t see it himself. “I know who he is, Marie – the kind of man he is – and I know his worth, so you can rest assured that nothing you,“ I paused to cast a look a disgust in the direction of their car before continuing, “your husband, or anyone else, for that matter, have ever said or done has come close to making a dent in my feelings for him.”
Even though I was being catty towards her, and my tone was obviously bitchy, I watched as his mother visibly sagged in relief.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “For loving my son. I know that it’s not easy at times.”
“Loving your son is effortless,” I cut her off by saying, pushing my damp hair out of my eyes. “It’s getting him to love himself that’s the hard part.”