SEPTEMBER 2ND 2002
JOEY
Holding my breath under the water, I remained motionless with my hands gripping the sink, until my lungs turned to fire in my chest and my thoughts became muddled and blurry.
That shitty human survival instinct instilled in all of us, the one that programed us to search for oxygen, forced my face to the surface of the water.
Numb, I breathed slowly through my nose, purposefully torturing my lungs that demanded I gulp in as much air as I could.
Fuck my lungs.
Fuck the world.
The circles under my eyes were darkening to the point where, when I woke up this morning, I actually looked like I had two black eyes.
A million sleepless nights, combined with a million fucking mistakes this past summer had taken its toll on my body.
Cutting a line with my bank card, I leaned over the windowsill that held the mirror – and what would get me through the next six hours – and quickly snorted the powder up my nose.
I had a pain slap bang in the center of my chest.
The ache was fucking terrible, and I couldn’t seem to shake the damn thing off.
I was going out of my mind worse than ever lately.
And I was raging.
I was so fucking mad that I could feel the burning and bleeding from somewhere so deep inside of me, I knew couldn’t be found to be patched up.
I was a mess.
Jesus…
Shuddering, I leaned over the sink for another half an hour, waiting for my stomach to settle, and my brain to cooperate, before I could manage to go back into my room and throw on my school uniform.
The hurley and helmet in the corner of my room taunted me with a whole host of demands and expectations that I wasn’t sure I could live up to for much longer.
"Hey." Shannon's voice filled my ears and I stilled for the briefest of moments before turning to face her.
"Hey.” I offered her what I hoped what a supportive smile. “Are you ready for your first day?”
"No," she whispered, chewing on her lip.
Yeah, me either. “You’ll be grand,” I said instead. “I’ll be with you.”
SPECIAL_IMAGE-images/svgimg0003.svg-REPLACE_ME
“Do I look okay, Joe?” Shannon asked in a small voice, as she hurried along beside me, swamped in her BCS uniform.
“You look grand, Shan,” I told her, keeping my gaze fixed straight ahead. If I looked at her, if I saw the fear in her blue eyes, I would crack.
Jesus Christ, I was a nervous wreck.
Seriously, if anyone that didn’t know me saw me in this moment, they would swear that I was the one starting secondary school this morning, and not my baby sister.
With my palms sweating, and my heart racing rapidly, I had to force my legs to slow down so she could keep up.
Schooling my anxiety, the best I could, I walked Shannon up the path to BCS, while discreetly glowering at every mother fucker who dared look in her direction.
Maybe an offensive strike was the best form of defense when it came to protecting her this year.
Maybe, that way, I could get her through this school year unscathed.
“I’ll always be your brother, okay? No matter what.”
Darren’s voice infiltrated my mind and I balked, swiftly burying the memory of that last time I’d taken this walk with a sibling.
Burying him.
He’s gone.
He’s dead.
He doesn’t exist anymore.
“You okay, Joe?” my sister asked, reaching up to touch my shoulder. “You look sad.”
“It’s okay.” I forced a smile. “Everything is going to be okay.”
“Yeah?”
I nodded. “Yeah, Shan.”
Because I won’t ever leave you.
MEET THE GOBSHITES
SEPTEMBER 21ST 2002
AOIFE
I didn’t want to be here tonight, much less on display like a prettified porcelain doll, but that’s exactly what I found myself doing on Saturday night, as I sat opposite the Rice family at Spizzico’s, one of the more uppity restaurants in Ballylaggin.
“Just bear with me for another hour,” Paul coaxed, giving my hand a squeeze under the table, as Paul’s father, Garda superintendent Jerry Rice, drawled on about his upcoming golf tournament in Kerry. “I promise, we can do something you pick after this, okay?”
I slapped on a smile for his mother’s benefit, when I was screaming on the inside.
I tried.
I really had.
When we decided to try again, I promised myself that I would put to bed any notions of my father’s apprentice and concentrate on making it work with the boy who actually wanted to be with me.
And to be fair, that’s exactly what I had done for months.
I kept it friendly and jovial with Joey in class, but I steered clear outside of school.
For months, I had thrown myself into our relationship, giving Paul one hundred and fifty percent of my time, attention, and effort, only to find myself still feeling empty.
Because it didn’t seem to matter how much I avoided, distracted myself or denied it, my thoughts always returned to the place they shouldn’t.
To the person they shouldn’t.
“Please get me out of here,” I hissed through clenched teeth, still smiling like a creeper at my boyfriend. “Because if I have to listen to your father talk about his impressive handicap or pretentious golf match for another second, I’m going to scream.”
“It’s a tournament,” he corrected, fake smiling right back at me. “Not a match, babe.”
“I don’t care,” I replied, still grinning. “Please.”
“Give it a rest,” Paul bit out. “You’re getting a free meal in a restaurant your family could never afford to eat at, and all you have to do is smile and nod in exchange.”
My mouth fell open. “You did not just say that to me.”
“I beg your pardon?” Mrs. Rice asked, setting her fork down. “Aoife, dear, did you say something?”
“Yeah,” I replied. “I said that I’m—“
“Tired,” Paul cut me off and said, reaching over to pat my hand like a little child. “She just said that she’s a bit tired. Aoife started working at The Dinniman during the summer,” he continued as by way of explanation. “She’s finding it hard to adapt to work and school.”
“What?” No, I’m not.
“The Dinniman?”
Paul nodded. “It’s a restaurant across town.”
“It’s a pub that serves food,” I corrected, ignoring Paul’s warning glare. “I’m waitressing there a few evenings after school, and on weekends.”
“Well good for you.” Mrs. Rice smiled warmly. “It will be nice to have a bit of pocket money for yourself.”
I smiled back at her. “Yeah, I like it so far, and most of the locals are from my own area, so it’s grand really.”
“I’m always telling Paul that he should get himself a little Saturday job now that he’s in fourth year,” Mrs. Rice offered. “I think it’s important that a young person learns the value of a euro.”
“And I think it’s important that he concentrates on his studies,” Mr. Rice interjected. “He has all the money he needs from us, Rita. The law degree he has his heart set on will be earned by working hard at school, and not waiting tables in The Dinniman. Of course, I mean no offence, Aoife.”