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If my parents’ relationship was a representation of love, then I wanted no part of it.
In my father’s eyes, I was just a mouth to feed until eighteen. That wasn’t something I had come up with, either. Dad told me this on countless occasions.
My tiny bedroom was my sanctuary in a house—and street—full of bustle and madness, but I knew it wouldn’t last forever. My privacy was on borrowed time because Mam was pregnant again. If she had a girl, I would lose my sanctuary.
His voice was low and pained. “I just… I’m here for you, okay?” he finished with a heavy exhale. “Always here for you.”
“You take care of her, Gerard Gibson, do you hear me?” she was hissing. “Don’t leave her on her own at any time for any reason. And if you get caught, then you take the rap, okay? I don’t care what you have to do, but you figure something out so she doesn’t get blamed for this—”
“Da, there’s a girl,” I announced when the door clicked again. “I know, Johnny,” Dad said calmly. “That was your nurse.” “No, no, no,” I slurred, shaking my head. “There’s a girl, Da. A girl.” “Where, son?” “There’s a girl on the bus,” I slurred. “I need you to find her for me.”
“Oh, fuck,” I groaned. “Am I dying or something?” “No, Johnny, love, you’re not dying.” “Thank fuck,” I groaned. “’Cause I wanna see that girl again.”
“She makes my heart go, like, whoa.” “Is that right?” he mused. “So bad, Da.” I sighed. “Boom, boom, fucking boom.” I shook my head. “All the time.”
“She crying, Da?” I slurred, slapping at something touching my nose. “It’s because I had sex.” Smirking, I added, “A lot of sex.” I laughed to myself but it sounded funny. “Just kidding, Ma…no pussy for me.” “Edel, love, he’s high as a kite,” I heard my father say.
“See, Da?” I slapped my chest. “Boom, fucking boom, boom.” “What’s he talking about, John?” “God only knows,” my father replied, sounding thoroughly amused. “But it’s the best entertainment I’ve had in years.”
“Thank fuck, ’cause I’m in love.” “You’re in love?” I nodded happily. “And she’s a river.”
“I’m gonna keep her, too. Make all my babies with her because my balls work—and Da says I can pull on my dick again. Woo!” “John!” Mam gasped. “What have you been telling our son?”
“Gibs, man. The fuck kind of drugs did you slip me?” “He’s very…high right now, Gibs,” Dad explained. “Don’t take any notice of what he’s saying.”
“You’re my best friend,” I told him, but he looked like a pillow. “I love your big rugby-ball head.”
“You found her, Gibs!” I exclaimed. “Thank fuck. I thought I lost her.” “I did, buddy,” Gibsie chuckled softly. “I brought Shannon back to you.” “Shannon like the river,” I sighed contently.
“Shannon Lynch?” Mam exclaimed. “That’s who he’s rambling on about?” “Oh, yeah,” Gibsie mused. “What happened to being friends, Johnny?” Mam asked. “I lied,” I snickered. “I’ve been lying all along.” “Oh, Johnny,” Mam sighed. “You never had to lie, baby. I like that girl.” “She’s mine,” I grumbled. “You can’t have her.” Gibsie laughed loudly. “Everyone knows that, Cap.”
“Let the girl in, Edel,” Dad mused. “He’s going to scream the place down like a toddler otherwise.”
“Hi, Johnny,” I said, my voice barely more than a whisper. “Boom, boom, fucking boom, Da,” Johnny slurred, clutching his chest. “I’m done for.” His choice of words caused Gibsie to laugh loudly and Mrs. Kavanagh, who had rejoined us, to groan in despair.
“Bring the lights back, Da,” Johnny instructed, slurring his words. “Light up the world. You need to see this girl.” “Johnny,” his mother said in a warning tone. “Behave yourself.” “I wanna see her, Ma,” he groaned. “I can’t see her.”
“John, tuck those blankets under the mattress,” she instructed before turning her glare on her son. “I don’t care how high you are, Jonathan Robert Kavanagh Jr., I will cut it off if you so much as think about showing her.” “Show me what?” I asked nervously. “My dick,” Johnny announced, twisting to face me. “You wanna see?” He smiled lazily up at me. “It’s all better now.” Gibsie threw his head back and howled laughing. Mr. Kavanagh joined him. “And Jesus wept,” Mrs. Kavanagh sobbed. “He’s high, little Shannon,” Gibsie explained, still snickering. “As a fucking kite.”
“I love you, Shannon like the river,” he slurred. My heart stopped. Did he just? No. No, of course he didn’t. “I fucking love you,” Johnny said again. Oh god. He did. He absolutely did. Twice. He’s high, Shannon. He doesn’t know what he’s saying. Don’t take this to heart.
Mr. Kavanagh simply shook his head and led a snickering Gibsie out of the room.
“You are in trouble with me,” I told Johnny once the door had clicked shut, leaving us alone together. “When you’re back to your senses, we’re going to talk about what you just did.” “I don’t care,” he slurred groggily. “I got what I wanted.” “And what was that?” I asked. “To embarrass your mother?” “You,” he slurred. “I got you.” Oh god. My heart.
“No, you must be thinking about someone else.” “I’m only ever thinking about you,” he replied. “Only you.” My heart. My poor, poor heart. I didn’t stand a chance with this boy.
“If this is love, then it’s you,” he replied, dragging me down to lie beside him.
“You lie and it hurts my heart,” he groaned, tightening his hold on me. “All those marks. It hurts when I know someone’s hurting my Shannon.”
“Who’s hurting you, baby?”
“I’ll fix it.” “It’s a secret,”
When I opened my eyes and looked at his face, I realized why. Johnny was asleep.
“If you do not make it this summer, then you do not make it this summer,” he repeated. “You are still Johnny Kavanagh. You are still an honor student. You are still a good man. And you are still my best decision.”
“She left me,” I croaked out. This was it. This was the start of it. I wasn’t worth shit without rugby. “No. She stayed with you,”
“I panicked and I reacted on her, but she’s fragile, Da. She’s so… And I’m so in—” “Love with her?” Dad smirked. “Yes, we all know, Johnny. You shouted it from the rooftop last night.” “Shite,” I groaned. “Was she freaked out?” “Your mother certainly was.” Dad laughed. “When you told her Shannon would mother your children.” “Jesus Christ,” I whimpered. “Why didn’t you stop me?” “We couldn’t,” he replied. “You would only settle down for Shannon. You fell asleep in her arms.”
I accepted my fate. I knew there was no other way out. Therefore, I wasn’t surprised when the first thing that greeted me when I stepped through the front door on Saturday evening was my father’s fist.
“Ollie,” Tadhg called out bravely. “Get help.” Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed my nine-year-old brother cowering in the hallway with three-year-old Sean tucked under his arm.
Stay awake. It’s not over yet. You are not going to die in this house. Not today. I could hear voices then: both Mam’s and Joey’s. Joey. I could hear Joey. He was here. And suddenly the pain was gone. The kicking stopped.
The feel of two pairs of hands wrapping around my body filled my senses—what was left of them—and I opened my eyes to the sight of my little brothers attempting to protect my body with theirs.
Joey, who was frozen in the doorway, had a different reaction. Dropping his gear bag on the floor, he lunged for Dad, spearing him to the floor. “You fucking bastard,” he snarled as he buried his fists in our father’s face. “You dirty fucking animal!”
“Joey!” Mam cried out. “Please don’t—” “Shut the fuck up!” Joey roared back at her. “You are the most pathetic excuse for a mother that ever walked the earth.”
“You promised you’d never leave me.” My words seemed to register with my brother because he exhaled a defeated sigh and leaned back.
“Tadhg,” Joey said, grimacing when he noticed the look of hatred on our baby brother’s face. “Go with Ollie.” “But I—” “Please,” Joey snapped, running a hand through his blond hair and streaking the tendrils red. “Go upstairs and pack your bags, kid.” Tadhg gave Joey a hard look before finally nodding and stalking out of the room.
“You’re bleeding,” Mam choked out as she dabbed at Dad’s face with the sleeve of her jumper. “Oh god, Teddy.” Her words caused Joey’s entire frame to tense. “Are you fucking blind?” he roared.
“She is bleeding,” Joey snarled, pointing to my face. “Shannon. Your daughter!” “Shannon,” Mam wept as she cringed in horror. “Oh, baby, your face.”
It didn’t matter. Because my mother had just ended my world. She went to him. He beat us. Terrorized us. Tortured us. And she went to him. She chose him. Our own mother.
Joey growled, standing in front of the four us, shielding us from our parents. “Either you”—he pointed to our mother—“find some maternal instinct deep inside that cold fucking heart of yours and put that bastard out for good, or I’m taking these kids out of this house and they are never coming back.” “Joey,” Mam sobbed. “I’m so sorry—” “Don’t apologize,” my brother spat out. “Protect your children and put him out.” “Joey, I—” “Make a choice, Mam,” Joey snarled as he glared down at our mother. “Him or us?”
