“What’s wrong with him?”
“Nothing, he’s grand.”
“Grand? Look at him. He’s out of his mind – get away from my son.”
“Get it together, Joe.”
“Joe, lad, your mam’s here.”
“Joey, wake up, I need you.”
Mashing my lips together, I forced my eyes to blink open, and watched as a familiar face drifted in and out of focus.
"What did you take?" I heard my mother demand, as she held my face between her small hands. “What did you take, Joey!” Releasing a pained grunt, she breathed hard and fast for minute or two before turning her attention back to me. "What did you do to yourself?"
Fuck if I could remember.
"I'm grand," I slurred, reveling in the fucking fantastic feeling of warmth rushing through my body. “Where are ya…Mam, you’re here.”
“Yes, I’m here,” she snapped, catching ahold of my hand like I was a small child. I hadn’t been one of those in a very long time. “I came to get you because I need to go to the hospital,” she choked out, as she pulled me along after her. “I wanted you to look after your brothers, so Shannon could be with me, but it’s clear that you can’t even look after yourself.”
Freewheeling, I allowed her to lead me wherever she had decided I needed to be.
It didn’t matter to me where that was.
Nothing mattered now.
“Are ya having the baby, Mam?” I asked, mashing my lips together, as I tried and failed to brush the hair out of my eyes. “Another one?”
“Yes, Joey, I am.” The sound a car door opening filled my ears, and then I was being pushed inside, landing on my face in the back seat. “You’re a disgrace.”
“I know,” I agreed drowsily, feeling her slide into the seat alongside me. “I’m sorry, Mam…”
“Don’t speak,” she snapped before she instructed who I presumed was a taxi-driver to take us to the hospital.
"Stop crying, Mam." Dragging myself into a sitting position, I attempted to pull at my seat belt before giving up entirely and letting her do it for me instead. “I’ll, ah, it’s all grand…”
"You're breaking my heart.” Her voice cracked. "You're killing yourself."
The feelings I knew I should have, weren’t present inside the gaping hole in my chest. I was fucked. There was no point in denying it. No point in fighting it, either. Not when my own mother didn’t have faith in me.
“You’re just like him. In every way.”
What was the point in fighting my DNA?
This was who I was, and I had a horrible feeling that I couldn't be fixed or put back together again.
I couldn't reset my life. I was paralyzed and trapped in a body that resembled the person I despised most of all.
Well, almost.
I was starting to despise myself just that little bit more these days.
It killed me to know that I was hurting my mother, though.
To think that I was making her feel the way he did.
“Yeah.” Closing my eyes, I dropped my head on her shoulder and sighed. “Okay, Mam.”
ANGEL WITH HER DIRTY WINGS
OCTOBER 31ST 2001
AOIFE
“I am so damn sorry about what happened in there.” Catching a hold of my hand, Paul led me away from a crowd of nearby partygoers, as he tried to weasel his way back into my good books.
Out of the corner of my eye, I watched as a black Honda Civic tore back up the entrance of the pavilion, causing my heart to hammer violently.
He was back.
The car door opened, and out fell a laughing Joey, with a cigarette dangling from his lips, and a can of Dutch Gold in his hand.
Unsteady on his feet, he banged the roof of the car to signal goodbye, before waving the car off.
Laughing to himself, he took a drag of his smoke and looked around, eyes finally landing and staying on me.
I waved at him.
He raised his hand to wave back but stopped when his gaze flicked to Paul.
His smile disappeared.
“You were only dancing,” Paul continued, drawing my attention back to him. “I get it now. I was being a tool. I’m sorry, Aoif. I am.” Blowing out a frustrated breath, he let go of my hand to run his hands through his hair. “I’m a jealous, asshole, okay? I can’t help it. Look at you.”
“Look at me?” Folding my arms across my chest, I leaned against the parked car at my back, and gave him a hard look. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“It means you’re beautiful and I lose my head around you.”
“Flattery won’t get you out of this,” I warned, flicking my gaze back to find Joey had disappeared from sight. “You called me a slut and a whore.”
“Aoife, come on,” he tried to plead. “You know I didn’t mean it. I don’t really feel that way about you.”
“If you don’t mean it, then you shouldn’t say it,” I snapped, unable to mask the emotion in my voice.
Because it hurt.
Having him think that way about me was not a good feeling.
Our relationship was a goddamn trainwreck, but it hurt to hear him say those things to me because before we hooked up, we were friends.
I’d always known that Paul was materialistic and vain. It never used to bother me that much because I had plenty of flaws myself.
I was loud and outspoken, could entice an argument from a silent monk – as my father liked to remind me, and I was especially slow to get intimate.
He always tolerated my flaws and therefore I tolerated his.
But lately, I was beginning to think that being able to mutually tolerate one another wasn’t a good enough reason to stay in a relationship.
Especially when said relationship was starting to weigh heavily on my shoulders.
“Look, I think it’s pretty clear that we’re not working out,” I heard myself finally work up the courage and tell him. “I’m not happy, and you’re not happy, so I don’t see why we should continue—"
“Don’t say it,” he warned, eyes wild with panic, as he grabbed my hands and pulled me towards him. “We’re not breaking up, Aoife. It’s not happening, so get it out of your head.”
“Get it out of my head?” I slapped his hands away. “You don’t get to make all of the decisions here, Paul. I have a say in whether or not I want to be in this relationship. You can’t force me.”
“You want him.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You know exactly what I’m talking about.” He narrowed his eyes in disgust. “Who I’m talking about.”
I released a heavy breath. “This isn’t about Joey.”
“It’s always about him, Aoife,” he practically roared, losing his cool with me. “It will always come back to him because you are all about him. Don’t bother denying it. It’s written all over your face.”
“He’s my friend, Paul.”
“Bullshit.”
“I’m not fighting with you about this,” I growled. “I have a friendship with Joey, and I’m not giving that up for anyone.”
“You mean you’re not giving him up,” he corrected and then choked out a humorless laugh. “Jesus Christ, how blind can you get? The asshole doesn’t want you. When are you going to get it through your thick skull? He doesn’t give two shits about you, and it’s fucking pathetic to see you fall over him like this.”