This is Brian Hugh
THIS IS brIAN
Hugh
SEPTEMBER 5, 1997
“D O YOU WANT TO COME OVER FOR A KICKABOUT ?” I ASKED G IBS WHEN WE STEPPED off the school bus on Thursday afternoon.
“Yeah, just let me get this prison uniform off,” he replied, trudging up the driveway to his front door. “What’s your mam making for dinner tonight?”
“Bacon and cabbage,” I replied, following him inside his house. “With roast spuds.”
“Woohoo,” Gibs cheered, looking delighted. “My all-time favorite.”
“Boys!” Sadhbh called out from the living room. “Come and see the wedding gift Keith got me.”
Gibsie turned to stone in the hallway, and I knew his head was about to spin, so I placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder and whispered, “Keep the head.”
“Keep the head ?” Looking mutinous, Gibs glared back at me. “It’s bad enough she forced me to attend their stupid fucking wedding in Paris—they ruined the most magical place on earth for me, by the way—but now she expects me to admire her stupid wedding presents.”
“I know, I know,” I coaxed, steering him toward the living room door. “But she’s still your mam, lad.” However, all attempts to play peacemaker flew clean out of my head when I locked eyes on the creature scaling the curtains in their living room.
“What the fuck is that?” Gibsie voiced my thoughts aloud, as he pointed to the gigantic moving ball of white fluff.
“This is Brian,” Sadhbh declared proudly, gesturing to the demented-looking furball tearing strips out of her good room curtains. “Isn’t he beautiful?”
Frowning, Gibsie took an uncertain step into the room. “Is that a cat ?”
Was it? “No, clue, lad,” I muttered, following him inside. “Looks a bit big for a cat.”
“Of course he’s a cat,” Sadhbh chuckled. “Brian’s half–Maine Coon, half-Persian.”
“Main Coon?” Gibsie’s eyes widened in horror. “What the fuck is that ?”
“Language, bubba,” his mother scolded, as she walked over to the window and retrieved the oversized feline. “Now, don’t let his size put you off. Brian is a sweet, little kitten at heart.”
“Why does its paws look like they belong to a labrador, Hugh?”
“I’ve never seen a labrador with claws like those, Gibs.”
“Don’t be silly, boys.” Sadhbh carted the beast over to where we were standing and smiled. “Come on and give him a little rub.”
No fucking thank you , I thought to myself, taking a safe step back, while simultaneously pushing Gibsie forward. “You can pet him first, lad.”
“Why do his ears stick up like horns?” Gibs asked, eyeing the yellow-eyed creature. “Why does he look like he wants to kill me?”
“Don’t be daft, bubba,” Sadhbh laughed, cuddling the enormous ball of white fur. “Brian’s just curious.”
Yeah, about what my friend tastes like .
Looking uncertain, Gibs raised a hand to pet Brian’s head, and that’s when all hell broke loose.
Spitting and hissing like the beast it resembled, Brian lunged for my friend, and I swear I thought I saw his eyes turn red when he locked on to Gibsie and started to attack.
“Ahhhh!” Gibsie’s high-pitched scream would have been comical if he wasn’t being mauled. “He’s killing me, Mam!” Dropping to the carpet, Gibs rolled around on the living room floor, desperately trying to wrestle the feral beast off him.
“No, no, no, Brian!” Sadhbh half scolded, half cooed as she hurried to intervene. “Gerard is your brother, my little puss-puss. You can’t bite your brother.”
Yeah, fuck that .
Turning on my heels, I booked it out of their house as fast as my legs could carry me, all the while shouting, “Not today, Satan, not today!”