Chapter 5
Aoife
T he moment I walked through the door, I knew something was wrong. The kids weren’t anywhere to be seen, but I could hear voices in the kitchen, and they didn’t sound happy. Hurrying in that direction, I caught sight of my mom’s back, most of it bare.
“Just get the fuck outta here.”
“I’m your mother—”
“You’re not my mother,” Cian spat. “You’re just the woman who gave birth to me.”
“Exactly.” Mom cackled. “What do you think a mother is?”
“The person who gives a shit,” Cian replied tightly. “The one who makes sure there’s food in the fuckin’ house, and homework is done, and we have clothes that fuckin’ fit!”
“You’re thirteen years old, I think you can figure stuff out for yourself, for Pete’s sake.”
“Right.” Cian shook his head. “Just go.”
“What’s going on?” I asked, striding into the room.
Mom was wearing a pair of jeans that were so low I was surprised I couldn’t see her c-section scar from when Aisling was born.
Her halter top just barely covered her breasts and ended in fringe above her belly button.
Her makeup was flawless, and at some point during the day of drinking in her room, she must’ve painted her nails because they were cherry red.
“I’m going out,” Mom announced.
“Okay?” I looked at Cian in confusion. I didn’t understand why he was so pissed.
“Ro and Ash asked her to play a game with them. She can’t be fucked to play one fuckin’ board game.”
“And I told them I have plans,” Mom said in exasperation. “They whined a little, but they’re fine. Jesus, you’d think I killed their dog or something.”
I stared at her, somehow still amazed that she could have so little self-awareness.
“We’ll see you later,” I said slowly, stepping toward Cian. When we were shoulder to shoulder, I leaned in a little so we were touching.
This wasn’t anything new. It wasn’t surprising or shocking. This was our life. I wasn’t sure why Cian was arguing with her about it.
“What’s in your hand?” she asked, waving those red nails at me.
I instantly regretted not hiding it. I hadn’t ever been able to prove that Mom stole from us, but more than once, the cash I’d given the kids for school trips would go missing out of backpacks.
Once, I’d even come up almost a hundred dollars short when I’d gone grocery shopping, when I knew I’d counted the money carefully the night before.
“A graduation present from Richie.”
“Lemme see.” She walked toward me and looked down as I opened the box. “Oh, that’s nice.”
“Thanks.”
“You better not let that boy get you pregnant,” she said, taking a step backward. “You’re obviously having sex.”
Cian let out a choked noise beside me.
“I’m not going to get pregnant,” I ground out, my face burning.
“You shouldn’t even be having sex,” she continued. “One slip up, and boom, your life’s over. If you think that boy is going to marry you…” She laughed derisively. “Don’t count on it.”
“I’m not going to slip up.”
“You’ve clearly been going at it.” She gestured at my hair. “I’m just saying.”
The mix of embarrassment and rage that flowed through me made my hands shake. Did she not realize that her thirteen-year-old son could hear every word she said? How in the hell did she delude herself into thinking it was appropriate to talk about my sex life in front of him?
“I’ve had an IUD for the last two years,” I snapped, trying to ignore Cian standing right next to me.
“Thank Christ,” she said easily, her voice suddenly cheerful and unconcerned. The abrupt mood shift wasn’t surprising. “Don’t wait up.” She turned and swayed toward the front door, and I tried to hide my scowl.
She shouldn’t be driving. We all knew it.
We all thought it. But I didn’t say a word, and neither did Cian.
We’d had that fight more than once. The worst time, I’d had to cake makeup on my cheekbone for a week to hide the bruise after she punched me in the face—the best time, I’d been able to dodge her, and we’d hidden her keys after she’d passed out on the kitchen floor.
It wasn’t as if we could call the police. If she was arrested for driving drunk, the kids would go into the system. I refused to think about how fucked up it was that I spent so many hours of my life hoping that the police wouldn’t do their job and my mom didn’t kill anyone.
The front door closed with a slam, and I turned to Cian.
“What the fuck?”
“I fucking hate her,” he ground out, his voice rough. “I hate her. I hope she dies.”
“Don’t say that.”
“Why not?” he shouted. “I fucking hate her.”
“What the hell happened?”
“She came out here, had dinner with us like everything was all fine,” he choked out.
“You should’ve seen Ash and Ro. They were watchin’ her like she was the second coming of Christ. She’s askin’ them about school and all this bullshit.
Me and Sersh were just starin’ at her, wonderin’ what the fuck she was up to, but the littles were soaking that shit up. ”
I didn’t have to imagine it. I could see it. Ronan and Aisling were still young enough to hope things were changing. That someday Mom would just suddenly turn into the person they needed.
“So, we get through dinner, and they’re practically vibrating with excitement. They ask her to play Monopoly or some shit, I don’t remember.” He waved his hand dismissively. “And she says, set up the board , so they do.”
My stomach twisted with a familiar mix of frustration and anxiety.
“Then she goes off to her room, and when she comes back out, she’s dressed like a fuckin’ hooker, and she tells them to have fun.”
“Jesus,” I mumbled.
“They were confused as fuck, and I have no idea why,” he barked in frustration. “They know she doesn’t play fuckin’ board games! They fuckin’ know it!”
“They were hoping—”
“I know what they were hoping,” he choked out, struggling to keep his emotions under control. “So, then, Aisling starts fucking crying, and Ro is just starin’ at Mom in shock, and I fucking lost it.”
“Where are they?” I asked quietly. I wanted to hug him, but I knew he didn’t want me to. He was angry and upset, and I knew he hated that I was seeing him that way.
“Upstairs.” He gestured. “Sersh took them up when I started in on Mom.”
“Alright, I’ll go up.”
Everything was quiet upstairs, and I found the kids playing with Legos in the girls’ room. Saoirse was reading, as usual, but she was sitting on the floor next to Aisling.
“I’m home,” I announced, poking my head in the door.
“Is Richie here?” Ronan asked hopefully.
“Nah, he had to go home and see his own family,” I replied, walking into the room. “But he said he’ll come back tomorrow.”
“Do you think he’ll bring more water balloons?”
“Doubt it.” I scrubbed my hand over his head as I sat down beside him. “Whatcha building?”
“A satellite.”
“Like up in space or the one on Mrs. Kinder’s roof?”
Ronan looked at me like I was an idiot. “Space.”
“Got it.”
“I’m building a bed for my Barbies,” Aisling announced.
“I told you—” Ronan glared at her. “You’re not keeping my Legos in your room.”
“Whatever,” Aisling muttered.
“Have fun?” Saoirse asked, looking up from her book.
“Yeah.” I smiled. “We got tacos.”
“Good.”
“So,” I said, drawing the word out as I looked at each of them. “Who wants to pop some popcorn, pull out the board games, and turn on a movie?”
“Okay,” Aisling replied halfheartedly.
Ronan just stared at me.
“I get to pick the movie,” Saoirse announced, immediately getting to her feet.
“Something appropriate.”
“Not Pride and Pit-stains,” Ronan added.
“You know that’s not what it’s called,” Saoirse replied haughtily.
“A cartoon would be good,” I called out as she left the room.
“We’re too old for cartoons,” Ronan informed me as I helped him scoop the little blocks into his tub.
“You can’t outgrow cartoons,” I argued. “That’s like saying you’re too old for ice cream.”
“People are lactose intolerant, you know.”
“Are you allergic to cartoons?” I asked dryly.
“She better not pick a princess movie,” he mumbled, ignoring my question as he scrambled to his feet.
Once he’d raced out the door, I looked at Aisling, who was still building her bed.
“Gonna watch a movie with us?” I asked, gently shoving her upturned knee.
“Mom said she’d play a game with us,” she replied quietly, not looking up from her project. “And then she didn’t.”
“Cian told me.”
“He was really mad.”
“Yeah, I know.” I got comfortable on the floor.
“He was yelling at her.”
I wasn’t sure how to respond.
“Maybe if he was nicer—”
“Nope,” I said, cutting her off. “No. It’s not Cian’s fault or Ronan’s fault or Saoirse’s fault, or my fault. It’s not your fault, either. Mom does what she does because she wants to.”
“Why doesn’t she want to hang out with us?”
“I have no idea,” I replied honestly. “Personally, I love hanging with you.”
Aisling smiled.
“You almost done?” I asked. “Sersh and Ro are going to pick the movie without you if you don’t hurry.”
She didn’t reply but dropped the mostly built bed into the tub of Legos. I climbed to my feet and pulled her up with me. Holding her hand, I tugged her toward the door.
“I want to play dice,” she said decisively, following behind me.
“I thought you wanted to play a board game.”
“Well,” she said before going quiet.
“What?”
“I picked that game because it takes a long time,” she confessed sheepishly.
I smiled at her, hiding the way my guts twisted.
She’d been trying to keep Mom with her for as long as she could.
The memory of Mom acting like June Cleaver for the social worker flashed in my mind, and I thanked God again that the kids hadn’t seen it.
Aisling would’ve been over the moon, thinking it was real.
“I like dice better,” Aisling added.
“That’s because you always win,” I teased as we walked down the stairs.
“Aisling wants to play dice?” Cian asked easily from the foot of the stairs, like the last hour hadn’t happened. I forced myself not to smooth my hand over my hair self-consciously.