“No,” he groaned, and then covered his face with his hands. “Fuck, it’s too much.”
“Okay, that’s it!” I threw my hands up in panic. “Take off your clothes and let me see.”
“Not a good idea.”
“Oh, just shut up and strip, dammit.” Concerned, I reached for the button on his school trousers, and snapped it open before undoing his fly. “Lift up your hips.”
“Molloy.“
“Lift up.”
“Fuck.” Shifting upwards, he hissed out another pained groan when I dragged his trousers down his hips. ”Oh Jesus Christ, don’t touch it –“
“I’m sorry!” Wincing, I carefully peeled the waistband of his black boxers over what had to be the biggest damn dick I’d ever seen. “What the fuck is that?”
Springing to attention like a front-line soldier, his fully erect penis bopped around mere inches from my face. “Why is it so—”
“I don’t know!” he bit out, pulling up on his elbows to glare at it like it was the enemy. “It won’t go the fuck down. I keep getting harder.”
“Is that supposed to happen?”
“No.”
“Then why—“
“I don’t fucking know, Molloy!”
“Okay, okay, why don’t we both just calm down!” I shouted, more to myself than him, as I stood in my bedroom, in my bra and knickers, with Joey Lynch’s dick glaring angrily up at me. “Jesus, that’s a big damn dick, Joe.”
“Shut up, Molloy,” he snapped. “Don’t fucking say that. It makes it worse.”
“Why don’t you…well, you know?” I shrugged. “Give it a pull? You know, see if it goes down?”
“Oh, my fucking god,” he growled, and then hissed out a pained breath. “I’m not wanking myself in here.”
“Obviously, you don’t have to do it with me in here,” I argued. “I can go downstairs and make us a sandwich or something.”
“A sandwich? Really, Molloy?”
“I don’t know,” I strangled out. “I haven’t eaten since lunch and you’re… and I’m… Look, I’m just trying to help, okay?”
“Get my phone.”
“Huh?”
“My phone,” he bit out. “Please. Pass it up to me.”
“Where is it?”
“Pocket.”
Scrambling to retrieve his phone, I managed to fish it out of his pocket without making eye contact with it.
“Got it,” I said, climbing onto the bed to kneel beside his slumped frame. “Here.”
“Thanks.”
“No problem.”
ERECTILE MALFUNCTION
FEBRUARY 14TH 2002
JOEY
I couldn’t explain what had possessed me to do something as incredibly reckless as doing a line in my boss’s house.
The only valid excuse I had to hand was that exhaustion had taken over my body to the point that it was crippling me.
Pitiful as it was to admit, I hadn’t slept in months.
Fifteen weeks, to be exact.
Ever since the latest of my father’s spawn was inserted into my life.
From the minute he came home from the hospital, Sean was inconsolable.
No joke, he was off his goddamn head 24/7, while our mother was off her head right along with him.
If she wasn’t working, or pawning the baby off on Nanny, she was hiding in her room, crying into her pillow, and doing everything humanly possible to avoid having to handle him.
Nanny mentioned something about how the reason Mam didn’t seem to be bonding with Sean was because of something called postnatal depression.
I didn’t understand it.
How could I fix it if I didn’t know a damn thing about it?
I couldn’t, and the old man was no fucking help, either.
She refused to nurse him.
She wouldn’t give him a bottle.
She rejected the idea of holding him.
Every time he cried; she looked like she wanted to peel the skin from her bones.
It was fucking horrible.
After getting his feet back under the table when she came home with the baby, the old man hung around for a few weeks, treading water, and somewhat behaving himself.
It didn’t last long, of course.
Three weeks after she gave birth, Dad had lost his shit with Mam, and physically dragged her out of the bed.
Depositing her on the floor next to the crib, he’d roared and screamed in her face until I couldn’t take another damn second of it. Eruptions had occurred, resulting in us having one of our worst ever fights.
In the end, the old man had gotten the better of me, but at least I’d gotten a few good punches in to make him pay for hurting my mother, who was still bleeding after the baby, for Christ’s sake.
Livid that she point blank refused to take the baby, Dad had grabbed the crib, with Sean inside of it, and walked it out of their bedroom and into my thirteen-year-old sister’s.
After that, the old man stopped trying, and of course, my mother laid the blame for his withdrawal at my feet.
Unable, or just plain unwilling, to take care of his responsibilities, Dad went straight back into his usual pattern of drinking, fucking, and smashing the house up, leaving me to clean up his mess.
With school, work, hurling, and Ollie and Tadhg to look after, I didn’t object when Shannon took on the role of caring for Sean.
Because the truth was, I didn’t want to do it.
I didn’t want to love another one.
Not when his age and vulnerability would keep me shackled to this house for longer.
Regardless of my aversion to getting attached to the colicky little shit, that’s exactly what had ended up happening.
Because, as willing as my sister was, she didn’t know what to do with a newborn, and, after three nights of non-stop screaming, I’d taken the crib into my room, unwilling to let that kid cry it out another minute.
Three and a half months had passed since then, and while Mam was slowly warming to Sean, changing his nappy, and taking him for walks on her day off, his crib was still in my bedroom.
Falling asleep standing up these days, I had started to buy a couple of grams every payday from Shane, needing the pick-me-up to just function.
Today was far from the first time I’d dabbled with uppers, but it was the first time I felt like my heart might actually beat its way out of my chest. The high was all fucking wrong, and I was raging with Shane for selling me a lemon, because whatever the hell I had put up my nose, was not cocaine.
My head was all over the place, my body was burning the hell up, and all I wanted to do was fuck.
The urge to get off was almost unbearable, leaving me with a raging hard-on, which was a problem because the girl who’d taken on the role of my personal chaperone was the one girl I couldn’t have.
And I wanted to have her.
I wanted to have her so fucking bad, it was painful.
While the haze in my mind was clearing, the pressure in my dick only seemed to be mounting.
“Got it,” Molloy declared, and she climbed back onto the bed in her tiny pink thong that was doing nothing to help the cause. “Here,” he she said, thrusting my phone onto my stomach.
“Thanks.”
“No problem.” Patting my shoulder, a sign of solidarity, no doubt, she shifted closer, settling on her knees beside me. “I’ve got your back.”