“Sam.” Inclining my head in acknowledgment, forcing myself to take in the sight before me.
Take one look at her, asshole. This right here is how you know you did the right thing, my brain hissed. I felt validated as I locked eyes on the girl that I grew up alongside that had become a mother before her time.
I was no different to Dricko. We shared the similar misfortune of being born to young mothers and asshole fathers. We were cut from the same cloth, but I would make damn sure that Molloy had a different future to the one stretching out in front of Samantha McGuinness. “Happy Christmas.”
“Thanks, and the same to you, Joe,” she replied, giving me a long lonesome look, before turning her attention back to her fella. “Well? Are you coming inside or not?”
“When I’m ready.”
“Jason.”
“Keep nagging and you’ll be eating dinner on your own with the kid,” he warned, exhaling another cloud of smoke. “I’m doing you a favor by being here, Sam. I told you that I’d come round last night to see the kid open his presents, but I’m not your fucking bell boy.“
“You did more than come around,” she spat, voice trembling. “You spent the night.”
“Right, I’m off,” I muttered, striding off down the footpath, before I got dragged into their domestic.
I didn’t have the heart or the energy to deal with anyone else’s drama this morning.
My head was full, and my shoulders were buckling under the pressure of my own shit.
I could feel my phone vibrating in my pocket, but I didn’t reach for it.
I couldn’t.
Because if I glanced at that screen and saw her name flashing, I knew I wouldn’t be strong enough to reject her call.
“Joey!” Ollie was standing in the doorway when I stepped foot in the garden a few minutes later. “Santa came, Joe! He’s been to our house this year! He came!”
“Did he?” I replied, somehow managing to muscle up the enthusiasm he needed from me in that moment. “That’s because you’ve been washing your ears properly.”
“Uh-huh!” Nodding brightly, my little brother grabbed my hand and dragged me inside. “You were right, Joe. You said he would come if I scrubbed them good and he came!”
“Good morning,” Mam greeted me in the front hall, clad in the same old dressing gown she always wore. The one Darren bought her the Christmas before he left. It didn’t matter that she’d been given a new one since. She continued to cling to the past, and her first born, by wearing the thread worn robe. “Happy birthday.”
“Oh shoots, I forgot!” Ollie yelped, slapping his forehead. “Happy birthday, Joey.”
“Cheers, kid,” I replied, before asking my mother, “Where is he?”
“Bed.”
“Good.” Repressing a shudder of revulsion when my eyes landed on my mother’s stomach, I focused on the outstretched arms of the toddler on her hip. “How’s my Seany-boo?” I asked, lifting him into my arms. “Did Santa come to my Seany?”
“O-ee,” Sean babbled, pressing his spit-slobbered hand to my cheek. “O-ee.”
Sidestepping my mother, I moved for the sitting room, where Tadhg was sitting under the tree, looking exceptionally dejected in comparison to our younger brothers.
“You didn’t come home,” he accused, not bothering to look up from the toy train he was holding in his hands.
“I know.”
“Where were you?”
“Out.”
“Out where?”
“None of your business.” My brows furrowed. “You got a train?”
Tadhg nodded stiffly. “Yeah.”
“But you’re almost twelve.”
“I know.”
“You haven’t played with trains since you were seven.”
“I know.”
“That’s probably for Sean or Ollie,” I offered, setting Sean down and reaching for the wrapping paper. “Ma – Santa must have put the wrong name on it.”
“It’s not,” Tadhg replied quietly, holding a gift tag up for me. “It’s for me.”
Boy, aged 7-11
the blue gift tag read, and I felt sick, suddenly knowing exactly where the sparse amount of presents under the tree had come from.
Ballylaggin’s charity Christmas toy appeal.
Because in this town, our family was considered a charity case.
“What did you get?” I forced myself to ask Ollie, striving for all I was worth to keep my tone light.
“Oh, I gots this super cool game,” he explained, reaching for a travel-size edition of Connect Four.
“Got,” Tadhg corrected wearily. ”It’s got, not gots.”
“Got,” Ollie chimed back. “And Seany gots this glowing worm.“
“Got!”
“Uh-huh, got,” Ollie repeated grinning up at me. “Want to play, Joe?”
No, I want to die.
“Maybe later,” I replied, “But you should go check my room. Maybe Santa left something in there.”
Three pairs of widened brown eyes locked on me. “Again?”
I shrugged. “You never know.”
“You absolute legend!” Tadhg hooted, bolting past me for the staircase. “
“Come on, Sean,” Ollie squealed, pulling the baby of the family up the rickety staircase after him. “I bet Santa hid the good presents in Joey’s room again this year!”
“Yes!” I heard Tadhg cheer from upstairs. “Deadly!”
Shaking my head, I ignored the vibrating in my pocket and stalked into the kitchen, to where my mother was peeling potatoes. “You couldn’t get them anything they wanted?” I demanded in a hushed tone. “Not even a fucking football?”
“I didn’t have any money left over after the groceries,” she replied, blushing.
“You couldn’t spare a tenner?” I demanded, throwing my hands up. “Tadhg was gutted in there. He’s not a baby anymore, Mam. He knows where those presents come from and it’s fucking humiliating for him. I know. I’ve been him. I’ve been the kid whose friends’ parents donated their unwanted shit to. It’s horrible.”
Mam sniffled. “Yeah, well, I’m sure whatever you bought him will save the day.”
There was an edge to her tone, and it got my back up.
I narrowed my eyes. “You’re pissed with me because I saved your ass? Again?”
“No, I’m not pissed with you. I’m embarrassed. I feel bad enough about it, Joey, I really do,” she mumbled, keeping her chin tucked down, as she clumsily peeled the potatoes. “So please spare me the third degree.”
“You can’t afford the kids you already have, so you decided that it would be the perfect time to throw another into the mix?” I couldn’t stop myself from throwing at her. “What’s going to happen to this one if you can’t look after it? Because I’m not doing it again, do ya hear me? I’m not mothering another newborn.”
She flinched like I struck her. “There’s nothing you can say that will make me feel worse than I already do.”
Leaning a hip against the counter, I stared at her and asked, “What about the money I gave you? Couldn’t you have bought them something with that?”