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“And I’m not?” my boyfriend demanded, running his hands through his hair in obvious frustration. “You don’t get to do this, Mam. You don’t get to check the fuck out on them,” he spat out. “You wanted to keep them. You wanted your family together. That was your and Darren’s number one goal, right? To keep the boys here? To pull the wool over Patricia and every other social workers’ eyes. Well, you did it. Congratulations. Because those boys are downstairs. But they’re on their own, Mam. Without a mother or father to look out for them. So, stop feeling sorry for yourself and take some goddamn responsibility!”
“I said go away,” she screamed, throwing her pillow at him. “I don’t want you here.”
“You don’t want me here,” Joey roared, throwing his hands up. “Well, we have something in common because I don’t want to be here, either!”
“Joe.” Moving on instinct, I went to him. Like the habit of a lifetime. “It’s okay.”
“You see this?” he strangled out, trembling violently as he pointed at his mother. “What the fuck am I supposed to do about this?”
Nothing. Because he’d done enough for her and had it thrown back in his face. All he needed to do now was look after himself, but he couldn’t hear me.
He was too far gone.
Just like his mam.
“Look at me… Hey, hey, look at me.” Catching hold of his face between my hands, I forced him to make eye contact with me. “Just leave her, okay?”
“But I—”
“Shh, shh.” Pulling his face down to mine, I pressed a kiss to his brow and focused on his eyes once more. “It’s okay.”
It wasn’t. None of this was okay. But this boy needed something to cling to.
“I just…” Breathing hard and fast, he reached for my hand and let his shoulders slump in defeat. “I can’t do this anymore.”
“I know.” Taking his hands in mine, I led him out of her room and closed the door behind us. “Listen to me,” I coaxed, moving for the bathroom. “I’m going to go downstairs and sort the boys, and you’re going to take a shower.”
Pain and confusion flashed in his eyes. “But I—”
“Just breathe, Joe,” I instructed, ushering him into the bathroom. “Take a minute, okay? Shower and change out of your work clothes. I’ll hang with the boys for a bit.”
“I can’t do this, Molloy,” he repeated, sounding as broken as he looked. “I can’t.”
My heart seized with a horrible concoction of fear and dread.
“You’ve got one more night in you,” I replied, reaching up to stroke his cheek. “I promise.”
“I don’t want to let it go.”
“What?” was all I managed to croak out.
“Us,” he replied. “I’m not letting it go. I can’t do this without you.”
The words escaped his lips like a torn admission. Like it pained him to say this. Like he was only registering the impact of his words as they spilled from his lips.
“And I don’t want to,” he whispered, dropping his head. “I don’t want a life without you in it.”
Broken in half from his admission, I could do nothing but wrap my arms around his lean frame and pull him close. “I’m still here, Joe.”
“Don’t go downstairs,” he mumbled, snaking an arm around my back and pulling me flush against him. “Be with me.”
“Joe…”
“Just be with me,” he begged, dropping his head on my shoulder. “You don’t have do anything with me, I promise. I just…” He exhaled a ragged breath and said, “Just hold onto me, Molloy.”
“Okay,” was all I could say in response, while my heart well and truly split down the center. “I’ll be with you, Joe.”
Always.
