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Finn looked at the floor.
*
Finn’s heart raced. He’d never told this story. Never even wrote it down. Once, he’d sat down in a New York café with a pad and a pen, with the intention of getting it down. But he never managed it.
There was no easy way into the story, so he just told it plainly, from the start.
‘I once walked in on my dad hitting my mom.’ His voice was plain, unemotional. He’d thought about this so many times, analyzed it and broken it apart so much, that it had partially lost its power for him.
Conor looked at him, surprised. Another reason he hadn’t shared the story — he’d never told his brother. And the longer it went without sharing it, the harder it became to share.
‘You saw that?’ Conor asked.
‘Mmmhmm,’ Finn nodded. ‘It was bad. Horrific. Ma was crying and I was screaming.’
‘Where was I?’
‘Rugby club,’ Finn explained. ‘It got to me. I became depressed. I was on pills for a while. Fluoxetine.’
‘You didn’t tell me,’ Conor said. He didn’t sound hurt exactly – just concerned.
‘Dad made me swear I wouldn’t tell you. And Ma, too. They both told me it was a mistake. That it hadn’t happened before. That it wouldn’t happen again. Promised me it was a stupid one-off. So. That’s what you’d see on my notes. Antidepressants.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Tammy said. ‘I should never have asked those questions. I just don’t see what my dad was talking about, though.’ She looked at Finn with tenderness. ‘There’s nothing wrong with taking antidepressants. Nothing at all. And as for swallowing a screw — honestly, Conor, with the speed at which you eat, I’m amazed you haven’t swallowed a whole lot of worse stuff than just a screw.’
‘Hey,’ Conor said. But he was smiling.
Finn, though, didn’t feel happy. He rubbed his temples. It felt like more needed to come out, like he needed to share more.
‘Wasn’t your dad a movie producer or something?’ Tammy asked.
Conor snorted, but Finn’s expression was deadly serious.
‘That’s what he used to tell people. And what he told us to tell people. But it was bullshit. Those trips he used to go on — he wasn’t working on movies. He was going on benders.’
‘So, what did he do for work?’ Tammy asked.
Finn thought back to his father. He had the same blond hair as the twins, but the strong, brown eyes of Shay. He’d been a good-looking asshole. Probably how he got away with all his shitty behavior.
‘Well, he first came over to Ireland because of a job on a fishing trawler.’
‘What?!’
‘I know,’ Conor chipped in. ‘The guy was a fucking fraud.’
‘Trouble is,’ Finn continued, ‘when he arrived in Coonagh, the job got canceled. He spiraled, fast.’ Finn sighed. ‘He was an addict, see. Heroin. Alcohol. You name it. Then he met Ma. Seduced her with stories of the States. She was vulnerable, and it wasn’t long before she was an addict, too.’
‘My dad prescribed her methadone?’ It looked like a light-bulb had flicked on above Tammy’s head.
‘You knew?’
She shook her head. ‘Nope. Just thought it would make sense.’
‘Just before we left Colebrook, Shay confronted us. He told us that Dad was hitting Ma. Regularly. Badly. That he had proof. Said that he’d suspected it for a while, but now he had proof.’
‘That’s why we left,’ Conor said. ‘Shay told us we had to get away.’
‘So, that’s what we did. We whisked Ma off in the middle of the night. Didn’t really have much of a plan, but we figured somewhere warm would do her good. I’ll never forget that car ride. I was so heartbroken that we hadn’t said goodbye to you, but we couldn’t — couldn’t risk anyone knowing where we were going. Plus, Shay had told us that you weren’t that into us. We didn’t want to bother you with all our shit if you weren’t serious about us. Didn’t seem fair.’
