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“We were only talking,” he said, offering me a rare explanation for his shitty behavior.
He’s wary,I suddenly realized,of me.
“I don’t care.” My tone resembled how I felt, flat and empty, as I forced him to step aside when I yanked the fridge open. “Keep your hands to yourself and we’ll be peachy.”
Reaching inside the fridge, I grabbed a can of coke off the top shelf and quickly snapped it open, feeling dry-mouthed and itchy. “I’m going out tonight,” I added, between gulps. “Don’t know when I’ll be back.”
“Suit yourself,” Dad replied with a shrug, as he moved towards the kettle.
So, he’s on the wagon again,I thought to myself, as I watched him make a cup of coffee.I give it a week.
“I plan to,” was my response, as I downed the can, and quickly reached for another, feeling an unquenchable thirst inside of me.
“Who are you going out with?” Mam asked, resuming her usual perch at the table. “Are you going right now? Because your father and I wanted to speak to you about a few things.”
“Friends, and yeah, I’m going now,” I repeated flatly.
“Just sit down and talk to us for a few minutes,” she coaxed, pushing a chair out with her foot. “Please, Joey.”
Stiffening, I relented and walked over to the table. “What?”
“Sit down.”
“Fine. I’m sitting. Now, what?”
She glanced over at my father who walked over and took the seat at the head of the table, opposite her. “Your mother is worried about you.”
I shrugged. “Okay.”
He continued to stir his coffee as he spoke, “Thinks you need counselling, or some nonsense like that.”
Mam sighed heavily. “Teddy.”
“What?” Dad tossed his teaspoon down and took a sip from his cup. “You know how I feel about that kind of thing, Marie. It’s a load of bollox. The young fella is grand. He’s stretching his wings a bit.”
“Withheroin!” Mam cried, and then turned to look at me. “I know what you’re doing. Iknow, and I want you to stop right this instant, do you hear me, Joey? I want you to stop this!”
“Okay.”
She blinked at me. “Okay?”
“Yeah.” My hands were shaking. Everything hurt to the point I could hardly fucking breathe. I needed to get out of this house. I needed an out from the world I'd been cast into. “Whatever you say, Mam.”
She didn’t care.
She didn’t give a damn about me.
All I was good for was holding the fort.
For carrying the burden.
For taking the weight off her shoulders.
She didn’t care, and that concept made me want to peel the skin from my bones.
My own mother didn’t give a fuck about me.
Hell,Ididn’t give a fuck about me.
