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“At first, I thought you were just getting fat, but now it makes sense. All the weird food you’ve been eating is because of pregnancy cravings.”
“Kevin!”
“You can’t even deny it, can you?” he argued, ignoring our mother’s protests and keeping his furious eyes on me. “Because there’s no denying that belly you’ve been trying to hide.”
“Kevin!” Mam snapped. “I told you that’s enough!”
“Yeah, I see it. I’m not blind, and I’m far from stupid,” my brother sneered, glowering at me. “Unlike you. The fucking idiot who laid on her back and let a loose cannon like Lynchy get her pregnant.”
“Fuck you,” I choked out, feeling the tears spill from my eyes as my brother hit me with a cold hard dose of reality. “You have no idea, Kev. No goddamn clue.”
“Congratulations, Sister,” he continued to sneer. “You just let that asshole turn you into another teenage pregnancy statistic. Well done. You can kiss your future goodbye now that you’ve joined the long list of hopeless girls from our school that were thick enough to open their legs to fellas like that.”
“I said that’s enough, Kevin,” Mam shouted, coming to stand between us. “I don’t care how surprised or upset you are, don’t you ever speak to your sister—or any woman, for that matter—like that again. You were raised, not dragged up.”
“Yeah, and so was she,” he countered defensively. “But apparently only one of us got the memo.”
“That’s not fair,” Mam replied, tone thick with emotion. “You don’t understand what your sister is going through.”
“No, because I actually happen to possess a brain between my ears,” he agreed, furious. “Unlike this idiot.”
“Kevin!”
“Jesus, I always knew you weren’t the brightest crayon in the box, but this?” my brother accused, eyes narrowed in challenge. “Getting pregnant while you’re still in school? Off a fucking scumbag like Joey Lynch? Wow, talk about scraping the barrel by mixing your genes with his. That poor fucking kid’s going to come out with a cocaine habit and the IQ of a gummy bear!”
“I said that’s enough!” Mam screamed, opening the cupboard door just to slam it shut. She did it three more times until she had my brother’s attention. “You,” she hissed, pointing a finger in my brother’s face. “Not another word.”
“But—”
Mam slammed the cupboard door again. “Not another fucking word, Kevin, or the next thing I’ll slam will be my hand across your face.”
“So, she gets pregnant, and I get threatened with a slap?” my brother huffed, folding his arms across his chest. “Talk about favoritism.”
“This has nothing to do with favoritism and everything to do with human decency,” Mam growled, poking his chest with her finger. “And I’m telling you now, young man, you better not breathe a word of this to anyone. Do you hear me, Kevin? Not a soul.”
“I’m obviously going to tell Dad.”
“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll keep that mouth shut,” Mam warned in a rare threatening tone. “This is not your news to tell, Kevin. This is not about you. This is about your sister, and Aoife has the right to tell your father, and everyone else, when she’s ready.”
“Are you crazy? This is Aoife we’re talking about. She’s never going to be ready to have a baby,” my brother said, pointing out one of my biggest fears. “She can’t even clean up after Spud, and she’s the one who begged you guys for him. How do you suppose she’s going to look after an actual living, breathing human?” He looked to me and said, “You should do yourself a favor and get an abortion. Fix this mess while you still can.”
“Fuck you!” With tears streaming down my cheeks, I shoved my brother out of my way and ran for the stairs.
“You know I’m right,” Kev called after me. “You won’t last a day of motherhood until you’re pawning the kid off on our mother to do it for you.”
______________________
A soft knock on my bedroom door drew my attention away from the pillow I was attempting to drown out the sound of my banshee-pitched wailing with.
“Aoife love, it’s Mam. Can I come in and talk to you?”
Why the hell not? In all honesty, nothing my mother wanted to talk about could make this situation any worse.
“Door’s unlocked,” I croaked out, pulling myself into a sitting position on my bed, with my pillow tucked against my stomach.
My bedroom door opened inward and my mother appeared, eyes laced with concern. “Are you okay?”
I shrugged. “Not really.”
