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His return was temporary. He wouldn’t stick this out. He couldn’t the first time. This time would be no different.
With the mother of all headaches, and my body in withdrawal, I stepped around Shannon and moved for the cooker. Mam could check out and Darren could run, but there were still four mouths to feed in the house.
Battling the tremors in my hands, I prepped a saucepan of pasta and set it on the hob to boil before turning my attention to the woman in the corner. “Get up and take a shower. I need to feed the boys and they don’t need to see you like this.”
She didn’t budge. That didn’t surprise me. It didn’t do anything to me. I felt completely dead inside as I walked over to where she was sitting and snatched the cigarette out of her lips and stubbed it out in the already overflowing ashtray. “Get up. You stink of smoke and booze.”
Nothing.
Setting the ashtray and her stained coffee cup on the draining board, I returned to her side. “Get up.”
I didn’t need this shit. I had enough on my plate. I had Molloy, dammit.
“Joey.” It was the first sign of life in her, and it caused something to die inside of me. “Joey.” Reaching up, she snatched up my hand in both of hers and sobbed. “Joey.”
I could smell the drink wafting off her in waves. Whiskey. I would know that smell anywhere. Repressing a shudder, I reached for my mother and helped her to stand. I needed to get her out of sight before the boys came back in from playing and she fucked up their heads even more.
“Keep an eye on the dinner, Shan,” I called over my shoulder as I helped Mam out of the kitchen and up the staircase to her bedroom. The more she sobbed and leaned against me, the more I felt suffocated.
The urge to break through the walls of this house and escape was so strong, I could practically taste it. I would never have it, though. I couldn’t physically break the chains that shackled me to this house.
To these children.
To this woman.
The only reprieve I would get was the one I took for myself.
“Come on, Mam,” I mumbled, feeling the weight of her body against me as I tried to get her upstairs. “You need to help me out here.”
She didn’t.
She couldn’t.
Because my mother was as dead on the inside as I was.
Beyond exhausted when we reached the top of the landing, I swooped her into my arms and carried her the rest of the way to her bedroom.
Their bedroom.
It’s his room, too, remember?
Dick.
Ignoring every muscle in my body as it screamed in protest, I managed to make it to her bed without collapsing in a heap. Setting her down on the mattress, I knelt at her bedside and pulled off her slippers before rolling her onto her side to face the window.
“I’m sorry, Joey,” she sobbed, resting her small hands under her cheek. “So sorry.”
I heard the word, had a feeling she might mean it this time, but I felt nothing.
“You need to keep your shit together,” I replied in a flat tone as I sank down on the edge of the bed beside her and rummaged around in her nightstand drawer. “You might be all fucked up in the head, but those boys don’t need to see it.”
“Darren,” she wailed softly, clutching my forearm. “I want Darren.”
“Yeah, well, Darren bailed,” I muttered, focusing on the countless blister packs of pills, while tossing empty pill bottles out of the way. “Fuck, Mam, what have you been taking?”
“Like you can judge me,” she sobbed, burying her head in her pillow. “I’m in pain.”
Me too. “Here,” I said, finally settling on a pill bottle containing a few Valiums. “Take a couple of these. It’ll take the edge off.”
