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“And you can also tell your friend that his friend has an impressive set of balls on him to attempt a steal on Joey Lynch’s girlfriend,” Casey snickered. “I mean, seriously.”
Charlie shrugged sheepishly. “It was worth a shot.”
“God loves a trier,” Casey agreed, eyes dancing with mischief. “But Aoife loves Joey.”
______________________
Taking my sweet time returning to my last class of the day, after being excused to use the toilet, I dawdled outside the girls’ bathroom, admiring the latest aesthetic offering of art on display in the main hall, courtesy of the leaving-cert art class.
Reluctant to return to my business class, because I had a handle on ABQs like I had a handle on my life, I dragged my heels, pausing every couple of moments to inspect a picture hanging on the walls or pretending to read the latest newsletter.
When I passed the boys’ bathroom, and heard the sound of coughing, I felt myself halt in my tracks again, but this time, I wasn’t lingering without purpose.
No, because I recognized that cough.
Filled with mischief, I slipped inside the bathroom, tiptoeing past the row of empty cubicles. Ignoring the stench of urine coming from the disgustingly yellow-stained urinals, I reached the cubicle at the end, the one with access to the window. The door was slightly ajar, and I ever so gently pushed it inward until I had just enough of a view to see Joey. However, any notions I had of mischief quickly died when my eyes took in the sight before me.
With one knee resting on the closed toilet lid, Joey leaned in close to the windowsill and, with the rolled-up fiver in his hands, snorted a line of white powder up his nose.
Frozen in horror and unable to make a sound, I watched as he rested his elbows on the window and dropped his head in his hands, sniffing and twitching his nose as he exhaled a sigh of what sounded an awful lot like relief.
Minutes ticked by while I just stood there, watching as the tension in his shoulders slowly loosened and his body began to sway. A small groan escaped his lips, and he heaved himself closer to the window, resting his weight heavily against it now.
As his high took over and his body grew limp, I felt my heart shrivel up and die in my chest. I couldn’t go through this with him again. Not now there was a baby involved.
My hand moved to the slight swell of my stomach, and for the first time since realizing the mess I was in, I felt a surge of something peculiar rise up inside of me.
Something that felt an awful lot like protectiveness for the baby growing inside of me.
Something that felt an awful lot like love.
Something that grew hotter and fiercer with every breath I took.
The protective feeling was so strong, so dominant and potent, that it felt almost carnal in nature, as it eclipsed the fear that had kept me burying my head in the sand these past few weeks.
I’m pregnant, I suddenly realized, as if it genuinely only registered in my brain at this very moment that I was, in fact, having a baby.
His baby, my mind chorused, as my eyes looked on in horror at the boy bombed out in the cubicle. You’re having his baby.
Look at him.
Look at what you’ve attached yourself to.
Taking a minute to regain my composure, to absorb the multitude of feelings rushing through me, I cleared my throat and pushed the door in enough to let him know that I was there.
Swaying against the windowsill, Joey turned his head to look at me.
“Molloy,” Joey slurred, mashing his lips together as he squinted and strained to focus on my face.
“I’m not doing this with you again.”
His brow slowly furrowed and he tilted his head to one side, clearly trying to make sense of my words in the fog of his mind. It took him longer than usual to register what I had said before he slowly shook his head. “It’s not what it looks like.”
“Oh yeah, because I’ve clearly read the room all wrong,” I choked out, gesturing wildly to where he was slumped. “I can’t.” I shook my head, feeling the threat of my emotions brimming to the surface, desperate to explode out of me. “I can’t go through this with you again.”
“Then keep walking,” he mumbled, still swaying unsteadily as he tried to straighten himself up, only to fail miserably and land on the closed toilet. “Because I am what I am.”
His words were like a slap across the face and I flinched. “You are what you are?”
