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“Naw. I will not,” I stubbornly argue. “How can ya ask that of me? Ya know what happened to her. Ya know Dad is a fucking pussy and won’t confront the Doyles once and for all.”
“Y’ll just have to get over it, Punky. There’s no other way.”
“But I’m not like him. I can’t forget her. I won’t. The Doyles can’t get away with this.”
Uncle Sean’s nostalgia fades and is replaced with annoyance. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”
This is the first time I’ve spoken those words aloud to him. I’ve made it clear that I’m disgusted with my dad’s inaction, but I’ve never hinted I’m about to change that.
“Answer me, lad.”
“I hate this secrecy,” I reveal angrily. “I don’t even know who my ma’s family are. Why not?”
“’Cause they’re not worth knowin’,” he bitterly spits, but I’ve heard it all before. “That’s the truth, so it is.”
“How about ya let me decide that. I’m not a wee chile anymore.”
“I don’t care how aul’ y’are, y’ll always be my cub.”
I appreciate his concern, but he can’t protect me forever.
“I’ll never forgive myself for what happened with ya. I should have done more,” he says with regret, running his hands through his dark brown hair.
“What more could ya have done? You didn’t know where we were.”
“Naw, I didn’t, and I’ll never forgive Cara for that. She was so stubborn. And that got her killed. She had no business being in Movil—”
He pauses, but it’s too late because I heard him—loud and clear. I never knew where the bungalow was…until now.
Moville.
That’s what Uncle Sean was going to say before he realized he shared more than he should. I can either continue to pump him for information, or I can pretend it never happened.
I decide on the latter…for now.
“That didn’t get her killed; the Doyles did that,” I correct because I won’t stand by and allow her to be blamed for something that wasn’t her fault.
“Aye, those fuckers,” he spits with contempt, appearing thankful I didn’t probe.
“Why didn’t Dad fight for her?” I question for the hundredth time.
Uncle Sean’s cheeks billow as he weighs over his response like he always does. “Some things are better left alone, Punky. Please trust me. I’m doin’ this for yer own good.”
There’s no point arguing. I face this answer every single time.
“My own good leaves my head melted.”
“And what do ya plan on doin’ to change that?” Uncle Sean asks, his blue eyes narrowing.
“Nothin’,” I reply, not because I’m scared, but because I know Uncle Sean will stop me from pursuing this. I need to approach this carefully, not just with the Doyles, but with the Kellys, as well.
But he knows me better than I know myself at times. “If yer thinkin’ of doing somethin’ stupid, please don’t. I love ya like my own son. Ya know that?”
I don’t know why Uncle Sean never married. He’s not short of admirers. When I asked him why not, he said it was because he hadn’t found the right woman.
“Ach, yer such a big softie these days, aul’ lad,” I tease, wanting to change the subject because Uncle Sean is the only person who, if he dug deep enough, could unravel my plan. And I can’t have that happening.
No matter what he tells me, and no matter how many times he warns me to let it go, I will not. It only enforces what I need to do.
