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“It’s not,” Tadhg replied quietly, holding a gift tag up for me. “It’s for me.”
Boy, aged 7-11
the blue gift tag read, and I felt sick, suddenly knowing exactly where the sparse amount of presents under the tree had come from.
Ballylaggin’s charity Christmas toy appeal.
Because in this town, our family was considered a charity case.
“What did you get?” I forced myself to ask Ollie, striving for all I was worth to keep my tone light.
“Oh, I gots this super cool game,” he explained, reaching for a travel-size edition ofConnect Four.
“Got,” Tadhg corrected wearily. ”It’sgot, notgots.”
“Got,” Ollie chimed back. “And Seany gots this glowing worm.“
“Got!”
“Uh-huh, got,” Ollie repeated grinning up at me. “Want to play, Joe?”
No, I want to die.
“Maybe later,” I replied, “But you should go check my room. Maybe Santa left something in there.”
Three pairs of widened brown eyes locked on me. “Again?”
I shrugged. “You never know.”
“You absolute legend!” Tadhg hooted, bolting past me for the staircase. “
“Come on, Sean,” Ollie squealed, pulling the baby of the family up the rickety staircase after him. “I bet Santa hid the good presents in Joey’s room again this year!”
“Yes!” I heard Tadhg cheer from upstairs. “Deadly!”
Shaking my head, I ignored the vibrating in my pocket and stalked into the kitchen, to where my mother was peeling potatoes. “You couldn’t get them anything they wanted?” I demanded in a hushed tone. “Not even a fucking football?”
“I didn’t have any money left over after the groceries,” she replied, blushing.
“You couldn’t spare a tenner?” I demanded, throwing my hands up. “Tadhg was gutted in there. He’s not a baby anymore, Mam. He knows where those presents come from and it’s fucking humiliating for him. I know. I’ve been him. I’ve been the kid whose friends’ parents donated their unwanted shit to. It’s horrible.”
Mam sniffled. “Yeah, well, I’m sure whatever you bought him will save the day.”
There was an edge to her tone, and it got my back up.
I narrowed my eyes. “You’re pissed with me because I saved your ass? Again?”
“No, I’m not pissed with you. I’membarrassed. I feel bad enough about it, Joey, I really do,” she mumbled, keeping her chin tucked down, as she clumsily peeled the potatoes. “So please spare me the third degree.”
“You can’t afford the kids you already have, so you decided that it would be the perfect time to throw another into the mix?” I couldn’t stop myself from throwing at her. “What’s going to happen to this one if you can’t look after it? Because I’m not doing it again, do ya hear me? I’m not mothering another newborn.”
She flinched like I struck her. “There’s nothing you can say that will make me feel worse than I already do.”
Leaning a hip against the counter, I stared at her and asked, “What about the money I gave you? Couldn’t you have bought them something with that?”
She didn’t respond.
“Mam?”
