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I loved my mother, I truly did, but that didn’t mean I didn’t resent her weakness, which I did.
A lot.
Uncomfortable, I slid my hand out from beneath hers and asked, “Did you sign my permission slip for the school trip to Donegal?”
I knew she hadn’t. It was still on top of the bread bin—unsigned.
“I’m not comfortable with you being so far from home, Shannon,” she explained, worrying on her bottom lip. “Donegal is a long way away.”
Exactly.
“I want to go, Mam,” I whispered. “Claire and Lizzie are going, and I really want to go. I need to have the permission slip handed in before Friday. Otherwise they won’t let me go.”
Okay, so that was a lie, I had until after the holidays to hand in the form, but putting the pressure on her was the only chance I had of getting her to sign those forms.
“What if something happens to you up there?” Mam offered. “What if someone goes at you?”
“There’s more chance of that happening in this house,” I muttered under my breath.
Mam flinched. “Shannon—”
“Did he tell you what happened last night?” I bit out, knowing that this was what she wanted to talk to me about—what she wanted to make sure I didn’t talk about.
Straightening my shoulders, I stared across the table at my mother. “Did he tell you what he did to Joey?”
“He has a name,” Mam said in a tight voice.
“Did he tell you?” was all I replied.
“Yes, your father told me what happened,” she finally replied.
“And that’s it?” I leaned back in my chair and studied her face. “That’s all you have to say about it?”
“Shannon, it’s complicated.” Mam sighed heavily and dropped her head. “We’re all under a lot of pressure right now, what with the baby coming in the summer and your father being out of work. Money’s tight, Shannon, and it affects your father. He has a lot on his mind—”
“He split Joey’s lip, Mam!” I swallowed down the lump in my throat. “Over a packet of biscuits. And if he’s worried about money, then maybe he should stop gambling and drinking the children’s allowance money!”
My mother flinched at my words, but I was glad I had spoken them. They needed to be said. I just wished she’d start listening.
“Your father told me you were late home from school,” she continued to say. “He was very upset about a picture of you in the paper—”
“It was a school picture!”
“With a boy?”
“Oh my god,” I cried. “Not you too.”
“No.” She shook her head. “Of course not. I understand these things, but your father was very upset over it. You know how he gets—”
“So, it’s my fault he beat my brother and tried to strangle me?” I choked back the sob of outrage threatening to burst out of me. “For getting home late, or having a school picture taken, or for moving to Tommen? Which one, Mam? Or is everything I do wrong? Am I to blame for everything that goes wrong in this family?”
“No, of course it’s not your fault, Shannon.” She quickly tried to retract. “You’re not to blame, and your father loves you very much. But you know he has fears of you ending up like me. And he and Joey have a complicated relationship,” she said, trying to talk her way out of her responsibilities with lies. “Joey knows better than to rile him up like that—”
I cut her off with a shake of my head.
“Stop defending him,” I hissed, keeping my voice low as to not wake the man who had been successfully ruining my life every day since March 13, 1989—the day I entered this world and toxic fucking family. “Just stop, Mam! Nothing you ever say helps. It just keeps happening over and over again. So just stop apologizing and trying to explain his behavior away. We’re tired of hearing it.”
“I’m doing the best I can, Shannon,” my mother whispered.
