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“He told me that you asked him for space,” she hedged nervously. “That you didn’t want to see him anymore.”
Devastation flooded me. “I said a lot of things that I didn’t mean to him.”
“Then we have something in common,” she replied sadly. “We’re both guilty of directing our anger and pain at the wrong person.”
“Why are you telling me this?” I asked, coming to an abrupt stop when we reached the edge of the car park and my eyes landed on her husband’s car. With said husband sitting in the driver’s seat.
Oh god.
The mere sight of the man made me physically shudder, and I found myself taking a step backwards. “What do you want from me?”
“What I said to you when we first met,” she blurted out, stepping in front of me in what I presumed was her pathetic attempt at shielding me from his view. “About how I thought that you needed to stay away from my son? Well, I was wrong.”
My brow furrowed. “You were wrong?”
“Joey needs you,” she continued to say, blue eyes full of lonesome sincerity as the urgency in her tone grew. “More than he needs me—or anyone else, for that matter. For most of his life, my son has been so hell-bent on escaping his mind, that he’s never given a second thought to destroying himself in the process. But with you, since my son has been with you, he’s different. It’s not only that he’s present, but that he wants to be. You soothe something inside of him, something that his father and I are responsible for breaking, and I don’t want to see him have that snatched away from him again.”
“Why are you saying this?” I asked, my gaze flicking from her face to the car I could see over her shoulder. Anxiety gnawed at my gut, and it took everything I had in me to stand my ground and not run away.
“Because I made a mistake, Aoife,” she replied in a shaky tone. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes when it comes to my son, but this is one that I hope I can make right.” She looked me in the eyes then, imploring me to hear her when she said, “Don’t give up on him, Aoife. Please don’t give up on my boy.”
The sincerity in her voice threw me, and it took me a few moments to gather my thoughts before I could respond.
“Nothing you said about Joey changed anything for me,” I heard myself say. “I know your son is worth loving, worth saving, even if the rest of the world can’t see it.” Even if he can’t see it himself. “I know who he is, Marie—the kind of man he is—and I know his worth, so you can rest assured that nothing you”—I paused to cast a look of disgust in the direction of their car before continuing—“your husband, or anyone else, for that matter, have ever said or done has come close to making a dent in my feelings for him.”
Even though I was being catty toward her and my tone was undisguisably bitchy, I watched as his mother visibly sagged in relief. “Thank you,” she whispered. “For loving my son. I know that it’s not easy at times.”
“Loving your son is effortless,” I cut her off by saying, pushing my damp hair out of my eyes. “It’s getting him to love himself that’s the hard part.”
Of course, her husband decided this was the perfect time to roll down the car window and shout, “Marie, wrap it the fuck up, will ya? I’ve places to be.”
Fear flooded the woman, and I watched as she visibly recoiled before resigning with a slumped shrug. “I’m sorry for what he tried to do to you,” she whispered. “So sorry.”
“Did ya hear me, woman?” he barked. “I said get your hole over here, or you’ll be walking back to the house.”
His attention flicked to me then and recognition pinged in his eyes.
Feeling like my skin was crawling from just having his gaze on me, but refusing to back down, I narrowed my eyes and returned his glowering stare with one of my own, along with a perfectly polished middle finger.
It was at that exact moment that Joey decided to appear from behind the P.E. hall, with what I could only assume was the end of a joint pursed between his lips. Taking one final drag of his smoke, he tossed the butt on the ground and exhaled an impressive cloud of smoke from his lungs as his bleary-eyed gaze landed on us.
Blinking in confusion, Joey looked from his mother to me, and then to his father parked nearby. The confusion in his eyes quickly morphed into fury.
“What the actual fuck!”
“Oh god, no,” his mother strangled out, sensing the potential danger of the situation. “No, Joey, no!”
“What did I tell ya about looking at her?”
“Joe, hold up. It’s okay.”
“What did I tell you about coming anywhere near her?”
“Joey, please.”
“Get out of the fucking car, old man!”
Moving entirely on instinct, I stepped around Marie and ran straight at her son as he stormed toward their car.
