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“No, not now, ya bleeding eejit,” Johnny replied, sounding pissed as a fart. “In the future.”
“Thanks, Mary,” Hugh said to the ageing barmaid when she arrived at our table with another round of pints. He handed her off a twenty before turning his attention back to our captain, clearly engrossed in the horrific topic. “How many kids?”
“I don’t know, maybe two or three,” Johnny mused, draining the last of his pint. “Definitely not one on his own.” His brows furrowed. “Wouldn’t want them to be lonely.”
“Girls or boys?”
“What are you doing?” I demanded, glaring at Hugh. “Stop encouraging this behavior!”
“Whatever Shan can give me,” Johnny replied, ignoring the appalled look on my face. “I’ll take whatever she’s willing to give me.” He frowned again, thinking hard about something before saying, “You know, I think I’d love a daughter.” He scratched his jaw as he spoke. “I’d be delighted with sons, too, of course, but I’d love to raise a little girl with Shan.” Shrugging, he added, “You know, show her how different it should’ve been for her.”
“You’d make a good girl dad,” Hugh agreed with a solemn nod.
“I know,” Johnny agreed, reaching for one of the fresh pints the barmaid had set. “Fuck it, we’ll see how it goes, won’t we? Time will tell.”
“I don’t want kids,” Feely mused, scratching his jaw. “I don’t think I want a family, period.”
“Jesus, that sounds depressingly lonely,” Johnny replied.
He shrugged but didn’t answer.
“I kind of like the way Claire and I grew up,” Hugh offered, rubbing his jean-clad thigh. “Having a baby sister is a pain in the hole at times, but we’ve had a good life.” He shrugged. “If I was to have a family, I think I’d like something like what my parents gave us.”
“Do ye think Lynchy and Aoife will have more?”
“In a few years, probably.”
“Well, if anyone wants to know the whereabouts of my future children,” I interjected, holding a hand up. “I left a fresh batch of them in a tissue in my room this morning.”
“You sick fucker,” Feely laughed, while Hugh shuddered in revulsion.
“Filter, Gibs!” Johnny barked, elbowing my side. “Filter.”
I shrugged unapologetically. “You know what I was just thinking?”
“No, Gibs, and I doubt we want to know either,” all three of them chorused.
“I was thinking that it must be nice to know that your parents wanted you so badly that they went to the extreme lengths of having you cooked up in the lab.” I patted my best friend’s shoulder. “Fair play, lad.”
“As opposed to?”
“Pillowing your way through a hole in a condom,” I offered honestly. “I heard that, you know? When my parents were separating. Apparently, I was just such a strong swimmer that I poked a hole in the condom.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Feely was quick to placate. “I was an accident, too. Mam was forty-six when she found out she was pregnant with me. All of my sisters were raised. She thought she was in the menopause.”
“Jesus, Pa.” Johnny’s brows shot up. “Your ma is sixty-three?”
“That’s some quick math, lad.”
Johnny brushed the compliment off. “I never knew your ma was that old.”
“Why?” Feely asked. “How old is your mam?”
“In her early forties,” Johnny replied. “Da’s a couple of years older.”
“Mine’s forty-three,” Hugh said. “Same as my old fella.”
“And mine,” I chimed in. “They all went to school together.”
