“This is bullshit,” Tadhg grumbled. “It’s only half ten.”
“We hates it when you babysit,” Ollie huffed, tripping over his words. “You’re the meanest. And boring.”
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, because babysitting the three of ye is such a thrilling event for me, too.”
“Joey, please—"
“Bed,” I ordered, holding a hand up. “Keep fighting with me and neither one of you will see the inside of the GAA grounds for a week.”
“You can’t do that,” Tadhg protested. “You can’t ground us. You’re not our dad.”
“Yeah,” Ollie added, sidling up to Tadhg. “You’re nots the boss of us.”
“Oh, no?” I cocked a brow. “Keep pushing and I’ll add on another week.”
“But—"
“That’s three weeks.”
“This is bullshit,” Tadhg huffed, before disappearing from sight. “I liked you better when you were puking!”
“Yeah,” Ollie grumbled, as he hurried after Tadhg. “We hates you.”
“Yeah, yeah. Sweet dreams, ye little fuckers,” I called back, waiting for the sound of their bedroom door slamming shut before heading back into the sitting room.
“Wow, I am so glad you’re here to crack the whip,” Shannon chuckled, when I sank down on the couch beside her. “They literally never do what I tell them.”
“You can’t show weakness,” I explained, tossing her a bar of chocolate from my pocket. “Boys grouped up like that are like a pack of rabid dogs. They can smell fear a mile away, and the minute you bare your neck to them, they’ll go straight for the jugular.”
“Wow,” she mused, unwrapping her bar. “What an interesting parenting concept.”
“Don’t eat it like that, you weirdo!” Gaping in horror at the way my sister brutally savaged a KitKat bar, I grabbed the cushion behind my back and tossed it at her. “The fuck kind of serial killer are you?”
“What?” Cackling from her perch at the end of the couch, Shannon took another bite – straight down the middle without splitting it in half first. “It’s only chocolate.”
Shaking my head in disgust, I took a sip from the cup of tea she had made me earlier and muttered, “you’re a little psycho at heart, aren’t ya?”
“You’re in a lot better shape than yesterday,” she shot back approvingly. “I’m proud of you, Joe.”
“For what exactly?”
“For getting better.” Cheeks blushing, she squirmed in discomfort. “For staying home tonight when being here is the last place you want to be.”
That was for damn sure.
And I was far from better, but I was still trying, still hanging in there, and I was still clean.
The worst of the DTs had passed, but I knew that I was balancing on thin ice, which meant that going out tonight was a risk that I couldn’t afford to take.
I hadn’t put myself through hell this past week to throw it all away, because that’s exactly what I would do.
Unlike my father, alcohol had never been my issue, but it was the sneaky fucking sidekick to my main nemesis.
Because with all of the freedom that alcohol provided me, it stripped me of all logic and awareness. It rendered me reckless, before sending me plummeting headfirst down the path of no return.
Because when I got drunk, I got sloppy, and when I got sloppy, I got high.
It had been that way since I wasn’t much older than Tadhg was. Hell, maybe even Ollie.
For close to half my life, I had danced with the devil, playing with fire, and it had finally caught up with me.
Worse than catching up with me, it had overtaken me.
The line I had crossed wasn’t one many came back from.
Molloy’s heartbroken face was still as fresh in my mind now as it had been the week before. It was the driving force behind my decision to park my ass on this couch and stay out of trouble for the night.
I couldn’t fuck up again.
I couldn’t afford to.
I knew in my heart that if I let myself slip back down that hole, there would be no coming back out.
“You know,” Shannon mused, dragging me back to the present, as she polished off her chocolate bar. “I can’t remember the last New Year’s Eve we spent together.”
I could.
“I was in sixth class; you were in third,” I reminded her, remembering the night like it was yesterday. “Darren was in sixth year and had just come out to Mam over the Christmas, and the old man had hit the roof.”
“Oh, yeah.” The light in her eyes dimmed. “I remember.”
“He broke up the house, disowned Darren, broke Mam’s arm for defending Darren, then broke my nose for defending Mam, before packing a bag and fucking off for a month.”
“Yeah,” she whispered, chewing on her lip. “That was the last Christmas that Darren spent with us.”
“Yeah,” I acknowledged quietly. “And that was the last time I spent New Year’s Eve at home.”
It was the last time I’d spent it sober, too.
“He left the following autumn,” she added, clearly thinking back to a time in our lives when it wasn’t so complicated. “Once he had his leaving cert results.”
“Which were all higher level As because, let’s face it, he was a fair bit of a genius,” I begrudgingly admitted. “Clever fucker’s probably in an office somewhere, sitting behind a big-ass desk, with a fancy computer in front of him, and making a fortune with that big brain of his.”
“I hope so,” Shannon replied wistfully. “I really do hope he’s okay, Joe.”
“He’s grand,” I bit out, feeling my mood sour. “He got out, didn’t he?”
“Yeah, I guess.” Anxiety filled her eyes. “Do you hate him?”
I nodded stiffly.
Her eyes widened. “Really?”
“Yes, really,” I snapped. “I really and truly despise the guy.”
For leaving me on my own in this.
For dropping the burden of responsibility on my shoulders when we should be sharing the load.
For snatching my future away from me when he walked out the door.
“I don’t.” She eyed me nervously. “Hate Darren, that is. I’m still hurt that he left and never came back—"
“He didn’t just not come back,” I interrupted, feeling my temper rise at the memory. “He didn’t pick up the phone, either. Not once in half a decade.”
“But I still don’t hate him. I could never hate any of my brothers.” She nudged my knee with her foot before adding, “And especially not my favorite brother.”
I rolled my eyes. “Kiss ass.”
“It was a good month though, huh?” she said with a small smile. “When Dad left that Christmas – I mean, aside from Mam’s broken arm, and your broken nose, that is.”
“You can chalk that down,” I shot back. “It was the first Christmas we had with Mam that I can remember her actually being present.”
“Me too,” Shannon agreed. “She was so alive that Christmas.” Her eyes lit up as she thought back. “Remember how much fun we had when she took us out singing The Wren on St. Stephen’s Day?” Giggling, she added, “She brought us around from door to door, and pub to pub, singing our hearts out. We made so much money, Joe, remember?”