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Ha-fucking-ha, I mentally cheered, go upstairs and change your boxers, you little shit.
Only when my brother was gone, and the kitchen door was closed, did I move for the table, stopping midstride when the boy who had a firm hold of my hand refused to move.
I knew why of course. He didn’t want me anywhere near his father. Neither did I, but I wasn’t going to cower from a creep like him. I would never back down to this man. Because he didn’t beat me that night and he never would.
This was a battle of wills and he would never win.
Never.
Call it pluckiness, or just plain pigheadedness, but I refused to give that man a second more of airtime in my thoughts. Teddy Lynch was irrelevant to me, and by standing there facing him, I was letting him know that. Rising above him was a form of defiance that was alien to him, and whether Joey realized it or not, we could hurt his father a lot more by showing a united front.
Giving Joey’s hand a hard tug, I tried again, and this time, he relented. He followed me over to the table, where we sat opposite his parents, with my mother and father heading and footing the ends of the table.
“I’m not happy about this,” my father came right out and said, breaking the horrible strained silence. “I’m devastated, if truth be told, but the horse has left the barn, so shouting and roaring about it won’t change anything.”
His words hit hard and I flinched. “Dad.”
“I’m sorry, Tony,” Joey interrupted me and said, addressing my father. “I fucked up.”
“Understatement of the century,” Teddy sneered. “Bright spark.”
I could feel Joey’s knee bopping restlessly against mine as he thrummed with barely restrained anger. Reaching under the table, I hooked my foot around his and pulled his big, knuckle-torn hand onto my lap, holding onto it with both of mine. Jaw clenched, my boyfriend did exactly what I asked him to do and ignored his father, focusing on mine instead.
“I fucked up,” Joey repeated, tone thick with emotion, eyes locked on my father, while ignoring the muttered rantings coming from his own. “I let you down, and I let your wife down, but I won’t let your daughter down.” He swallowed roughly and said, “I won’t let your grandchild down.”
“Joey, lad.” My father’s eyes flashed with emotion. “I’m not—”
“The road to hell is paved with good intentions,” Teddy interjected, sounding entirely unaffected by the sincerity in his son’s voice. “Talk is cheap. It’s grand saying you’ll be there now, but you haven’t a notion of what’s coming down the line, boy.”
“I won’t leave her,” Joey continued, ignoring his father. “I’ll be there. For all of it. I won’t run, Tony.”
“I didn’t run either,” his father reminded him. “I stayed for all of it, too, boy, and look where it got me.”
“I’m not him,” Joey strangled out, as a vein bulged in his neck from the force it was taking him to not respond to his father’s goading. Turning to my mother, he shrugged almost helplessly, clearly willing her to believe him. “I’m not him, Trish.”
“I know, pet,” I heard my mother whisper.
“This isn’t a wham-bam relationship,” I decided to interject, desperate to take the heat off Joey and shoulder some of this pressure. “Joey’s my best friend.” I looked around the table, imploring our parents to hear me. “We’ve known each other since we were twelve. So, when he says that he’ll be there for me, I believe him and all of you should too. Because his word is good.”
Surprised by my words, my boyfriend turned to look at me, green eyes burning with unspoken emotion. It was almost like it hurt him to hear someone speak kindly of him. It was foreign to him, and it broke my heart.
“He’s the best person I know,” I added, keeping my eyes locked on his as I spoke. “And I trust him with my life.”
“Then you’re even thicker than my wife,” Teddy dismissed with a shake of his head. “Because that young fella of mine is a walking disaster.” Looking to my father, he said, “You know he’s off his trolley most of the time, don’t ya, Molloy?”
“Teddy,” his wife croaked out, pressing her small hand to her brow. “Please.”
“Shut up, Marie,” Teddy warned. “The man has a right to know what kind of serpent got his young one pregnant.” He turned his attention back to my father. “It’s no secret that I’ve battled with the drink for most of my life, but this fucker…” He leaned back and whistled. “This fucker takes it to another level.”
“The boy is grand with alcohol,” I heard my father defend. “And if you’re referring to the bit of grass he smokes, then I’ll be talking to him about that.”
“Grass?” Teddy threw his head back and laughed. “Don’t be so fucking naive, Tony. The lad’s a full-blown drug addict.”
Both of our mothers gasped, while Joey’s shoulders slumped and he bowed his head, still remaining silent, even when his character was being shredded to pieces around us.
“No, he’s not,” I heard myself defend—I heard myself lie—tightening my hold on the hand balled into a fist on my lap. “He made a few mistakes in the past, but that’s over and done with.”
“I’ve been in your shoes,” his mother said, looking directly across the table at me, with so many unspoken words glistening in her forlorn blue eyes. “I know where this is going, and I think…” Pausing, she sucked in a shallow breath and tentatively tucked her dark hair behind her ears before continuing. “I think you should consider a termination.”
