by Chloe Walsh
"Shannon, pet," Mrs. Biggs said in a concerned tone when she pulled up outside of my house. "Is everything okay?"
"It's probably fine," I croaked out, quickly unfastening my seatbelt, as the jagged claws of panic tore at my gut. "Thanks for the spin, Mrs. Biggs," I added, reaching for the door handle.
"Wait – would you like me to come with you?" Claire's mother asked, tone laced with tenderness, as she placed a hand on my shoulder. "I can park up, honey, and walk you in –"
"No, no, it's fine," I mumbled, shoving the passenger door open, and thanking my lucky stars that Claire had stayed at her house rather than come for the drive. "But I better go inside now."
Mrs. Biggs, who looked so much like Claire, worried her lip for a long moment, clearly anxious.
Not as much as I am…
"Will you call Claire later on?" she finally asked, eyeing me with wariness. "Just to check in?"
I nodded, offered her a small smile, and then hurried out.
Deep breaths, I chanted to myself the entire walk from the footpath to my front door. Whatever's happened, you can handle it.
Just keep breathing, Shannon.
When I reached the front door, a horrible wave of Deja vu wafted through me, and for a moment, I just stood there, my fingers curled around the door handle, and my entire body spazzing out of control.
He's in there, my brain hissed, Run away, Shannon. Get away now!
My choices were taken away from me when the door swung inwards and my eyes landed on Joey. I drank in the sight of his blood-free face for a moment before a huge shudder racked through me.
"Shh," he whispered when I opened my mouth to speak. Instead of ushering me inside, Joey stepped out and pulled the door shut behind him. "I need to talk to you."
"What's going on, Joe?" I strangled out, panicking.
"It's okay." Catching ahold of my arm, he gently tugged me into the side garden and out of view of the windows and doors. "But we need to talk."
"Talk?" I frowned up at him. "About what?" Flustered, I waved a hand towards the cars parked outside the house. "What's going on? Why are the Gards here, Joe? Why is Patricia's car here?"
"Come here –" Dragging me through the overgrown grass, we slipped into the small gap of space between the garden shed and wall, to the old den we had spent many a night hiding out in. It was nothing to look at; just a few feet of trodden down grass at the back of the shed, secured by the unused oil tank, but the gap to get back here was too narrow for our father to squeeze through. We used to keep blankets, torches, and a small tin of biscuits out here when we were little, but it had been a long time since either of us had come back here. "He handed himself in, Shan." Joey glanced behind us and blew out a shaky breath. "The Gards have him."
"Dad?" I squeezed out, though I wasn't sure if I spoke the word or mouthed it. My heart was racing at a hundred miles an hour, forcing the air from my lungs in a breathy rush. "Are you serious?"
Joey nodded and I felt my body grow weak.
Weaker, and weaker, and weaker, until I was moving towards the ground in slow motion.
"I've got you." Joey's arms came around me. "It's okay." Lowering us both onto the wet grass, he crouched down beside me with his hands on my shoulders. "Shh, you're safe."
Motionless, I leaned against the concrete wall at my back, feeling the damp seep through my school skirt, but unable to move a muscle, as my brain switched into overdrive.
They had him?
He handed himself in?
My father?
"I'm going to be sick –" the words were barely out of my mouth before I twisted sideways and heaved the contents of my stomach onto the grass.
"Good girl." Grabbing a fistful of my hair, Joey pulled it back from my face and patted my back. "Get it out. You'll feel better."
No, I wouldn't.
I was never going to feel better again because this was all wrong.
Stomach heaving, I wretched and gawked until I was empty, with nothing left inside of me to give.
"Why?" I croaked out when words finally found me. Chest heaving, I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and sagged in defeat. "Handed himself in?" I shook my head, rejecting the notion. No, he had to have this all wrong. "He wouldn't do that, Joe." Our father would never voluntarily hand himself in for anything. "This isn't real."
"I know," Joey agreed, speaking in a low, hushed tone. "I don't believe it, either." He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "Something's wrong."
"What else do you know?"
"Nothing," he replied. "I literally just walked in the door from work before you and found them all in the kitchen." He gestured to the greasy overalls he was wearing and shrugged helplessly. "The Gards, Patricia, and a couple of other women I have never seen before all in there with Mam and Darren."
"What are they saying?"
"I don't know, Shan." He shook his head and added, "They wouldn't let me stay – they fucking kicked me out of the kitchen, but I heard one of the Gards say that Dad handed himself in before they shut the door in my face. Then I heard the car pull up, so I came straight out to give you the heads up."
My stomach twisted up in knots. "Well, thanks for the heads up."
"I don't understand what's happening here," he said, ignoring my thank you. "He has to have been to a solicitor or something. Gotten some advice…" He let out an aggravated growl. "It makes no sense for him to just walk into the station and turn himself in."
"Maybe he felt guilty?" I offered weakly, knowing it was a stupid notion.
"You need to possess a conscience to feel guilt," Joey shot back. "He lacks one of those."
Very true.
"It's bullshit," a familiar voice said, causing both of us to turn as a shadowy figure approached in the darkness. "They're in there, talking about our lives, making decisions for us, and we're not allowed to hear it."
"Tadhg," I strangled out, pressing a hand to my heart when he popped out from the small gap, his face illuminated by the street light across the road from our house.
"Where are Ollie and Sean?" was Joey's only question.
"Bed – they're both asleep," Tadhg replied before walking over to where we were crouched and taking a seat on the grass beside us. Resting his back against the wall alongside me, he hooked his arms around his knees and muttered, "But Sean pissed the bed again."
Joey sighed wearily. "I better go –"
"I sorted it," Tadhg cut in. "It's done."
My heart broke.
Babies taking care of babies.
"And Ollie's having more nightmares. He keeps waking up crying, saying that he's going to come back in the middle of the night and get us," Tadhg added, tone hard. "I can't get a fucking wink of sleep with the cry-baby."
"Tadhg," I said wearily. "Please don't curse."
"Why?" he snapped, glaring at me. "What are you going to do about it?"
"Because you're eleven and too young to be cursing," I replied sadly. "And I'm not going to do anything about it. It just shouldn't be happening."
"Fuck you, Shannon," he sneered. "I'll be twelve on Friday, and there's a lot of things in my life that shouldn't be happening."
"Pack it in," Joey commanded in an authoritative tone, locking eyes on our little brother. "You want to be pissed with Mam and Dad – with the whole damn world? Then go right ahead. Feel it. It's real and it's justified. You should be raging. It's not fair. But don't even think about taking it out on her, me, or those two kids upstairs, because we didn't do shit to you, kid. We didn't do a damn thing to deserve this life, the same as you, so remember that before you come out here, aiming your pain at us."
Tadhg stared hard at Joey for a long moment before shuddering violently. "I don't want him to come back," he finally said, voice cracking. Springing onto his knees, he lunged at Joey. "I don't want this," he cried, wrapping his arms around Joey's neck. "I want it to be gone. I just want it to be over!"
"I know, kid," Joey choked out, holding him tightly. "I know."
"And you left me," he sobbed, crying harder. "You can't leave me. I need you to stay with me."
"I'm here," Joey whispered, shuddering now, eyes full of anguish and locked on mine. "I'm right here."
"And so am I," I strangled out, wrapping my arms around my brothers. "We're a team, guys," I added, pouring as much enthusiasm as I could into my voice for my little brother's benefit. "We'll get through this."
"Exactly," Joey agreed, voice strained. "We're going to make it."
"Together?" Tadhg sniffled.
I locked eyes on Joey and mouthed, "Together?"
"Sure, kid." Joey clenched his eyes shut. "Together."
We sat there like that, on the soaked grass with rain drizzling down on us, until the sound of loud voices disturbed the silence.
"Thanks for coming to speak to us," Darren's muffled voice filled my ears and all three of us stiffened in unison. "I appreciate the update."
Tadhg moved to stand up, but Joey and I both grabbed his pajama top and dragged him back down.
"Don't move," Joey instructed quietly.
Tadhg frowned. "But they're –"
"Just listen," Joey urged.
He had a lot to learn yet.
"No problem, Mr. Lynch," a male voice that I presumed belonged to one of the Garda's replied. "I'm just sorry it wasn't the news you were hoping for."
My heart sank.
Actually, no, it didn't sink.
It remained exactly where it was; in the pit of my stomach.
Because, just like Joey and Tadhg, I knew that nothing good was happening.
When it came to our father, nothing good ever happened.
"Your mother should find some comfort in the fact that he's accepting his responsibilities," the Garda continued to say. "At least it's progress."
"Not quite the progress I expected," Darren replied, tone a little harder than normal. "Or my sister and brothers, for that matter."
"Yes, well, it's out of our hands," a female voice interjected in a neutral tone. "The law is the law, and unfortunately, we don't get to make it. We're only here to uphold it."
"The law is a fucking joke," both Joey and Tadhg muttered at the exact same time.
"Jinx," Tadhg whispered with a small smile tugging his lips.
Joey rolled his eyes and locked an arm around Tadhg. Dragging him onto his lap, he rubbed his knuckles against Tadhg's head. "There – touched wood."
"Shh," I warned them and strained to hear more.
"Look, we won't take up anymore of your time," the male Gard said. "Goodnight, Mr. Lynch."
"Yeah, goodnight," Darren replied. "Thank you."
The sound of an engine roared to life a few moments later and then slowly faded away in the distance.
"I'm going inside–" Tadhg began to say, standing up again, only to be pulled back down by our brother once more. "I want answers, guys!"
"Just stay put," Joey instructed calmly. "They're not done."
Huffing out a breath, Tadhg crossed his arms over his chest and pouted.
Joey shook his head. "You've got a lot to learn, kid."
We waited until Patricia and the other women emerged from the house, got into their cars and drove away, before Joey stood up. "Okay," he announced, inclining his head to toward the house. "Now we go get answers."
Tadhg steamrolled ahead of us, making it into the kitchen before Joey and I had our feet through the front door, screeching, "What the hell is going on?"
"Listen, let me handle it," Joey said in a low tone, giving my shoulder a small squeeze before walking into the kitchen ahead of me.
Standing in the doorway, my eyes went straight to my mother, who was sitting at her usual perch at the table, with an ashtray in front of her and a cigarette balancing between her frail fingers. No surprises there. She had her standard cup of coffee set in front of her – the one doused in vodka or whatever choice of liquid medicine for the night. She was weeping quietly into one hand while she sucked on her cigarettes. Again, no surprises.
There was a small stack of white envelopes on the table beside her. One of the envelopes had been opened and the piece of paper lay on the table beside the ashtray.
"What's going on?" Tadhg was demanding as he stood in the middle of the kitchen, glaring at our oldest brother and completely ignoring our mother. "I want to know!"
"Be quiet, Tadhg," Darren snapped. "I'm trying to think –" He paced the floor, clenching a white envelope tightly in his fist. "I can't think!"
"Tell me what's happening and you can go back to thinking," Tadhg spat, not missing a beat.
Hovering in the doorway, I watched Joey stroll straight past Darren without a word and snatch the piece of paper off the table.
My heart felt like it had stopped in my chest as I watched him read, brows furrowing deeper and deeper, until he clenched his eyes shut altogether. Rigid, he balled the piece of paper up and flung it at the wall. "Fuck!"
"That's not helping," Darren admonished quietly.
"No, you know what's not helping?" Joey shot back. "You, Darren. You're not fucking helping!"
"Do you think I want this?" Darren hissed, glowering at Joey. "You're fucking crazy if you think I wanted this."
"Oh god." Mam sobbed loudly. "I can't take this."
"Just shut up with the crying!" Tadhg barked, pulling on his hair in frustration. "We're all sick to death of listening to you whining!"
"Cop on, Tadhg," Darren barked. "Don't speak to her like that."
"Don't tell him what to do," Joey was quick to jump in and defend. "The kid's right. We're all sick of listening to her, you included. He's just got the balls to say it."
"What's going on?" I asked, remaining exactly where I was, with the front door to my back and the option to bolt available if necessary.
"Tell them what's going on, Darren," Joey sneered menacingly. "Go ahead and tell Shan and Tadhg the good news. Or better yet –" Pausing, Joey stalked over to the table and grabbed the stack of envelopes. Sifting through them, he tossed two back down on the table before stalking towards us. "Let them read it." Thrusting an envelope into Tadhg's hands, Joey walked over and handed me the one with Shannon scrawled on the front, before shoving the last envelope he was holding into the pocket of his blue overalls. "Makes for a good read, lads," he added, tone laced with sarcasm. "Best fucking fiction I've ever read, isn't that right, Mam?"
I didn't dare open the letter in my hands, not when my brain had recognized the messy scrawl as my father's handwriting.
"He wrote us all our very own letter," Joey sneered, tone dripping with venom and sarcasm. "Lucky us."
Darren shook his head. "Joey…"
"Is he dead?" I strangled out, heart thudding violently. "Is that it?" I held the letter up. "Did he k–" my breath hitched in my throat and I had to force out the rest of it, "Kill himself?"
"No such luck," Joey hissed. "He's as fresh as a daisy, living it up in Brickley House."
"Brickley House?"
"It's a treatment center on the other side of the city," Darren explained. "Dad signed himself in two weeks ago, Shannon. The day after you went into the hospital. That's where he's been – why nobody could find him."
I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to wrangle in my emotions and digest what I was hearing, but when I spoke again, all I could come out with was, "What?"
"What does that mean?" Tadhg choked out, paling. When no one responded, he screamed, "What's happening?"
"It means he's a clever son of a bitch with friends in high places and access to some slick legal advice," Joey sneered, planting his hands on his hips. "It means he won't see a day behind bars – like I predicted. Like I told you fucking all!"
"No," Darren quickly jumped in. "He'll still have to go to court."
"Why isn't he in prison now?" I strangled out, feeling my body shake from head to toe. Swinging my gaze to Darren, I whispered, "That's what you said, Darren. You told me as soon as they found Dad, he would be arrested." A harsh sob tore
from my throat and I instinctively clutched my side, remembering all too well what had happened in this kitchen the last time our father had been here. My body seized up with panic. "That's what you said," I strangled out, feeling close to collapsing. "You promised."
Darren flinched. "I know what I said –"
"He's cooperating," Joey interjected, tone furious.
"What do you mean?" Tadhg asked.
"Admitting himself into Brickley House was enough to show the judge that he is showing remorse for his actions and willing to seek help for his addictions," Darren explained. "It means the judge consented to his bail on the grounds that he completes a thirty-day treatment plan, complies with the no-contact order in place, and shows up to court in November."
"November?" My eyes widened in fear. "But that's months away."
"Which means he'll be a free man in a couple of weeks," Joey added, clapping his hands together. "Well fucking done." Turning his fury on Mam, he said, "You can stop crying now. He'll be back to you soon."
"No, he won't," Darren snapped. "He'll go down for what he did."
"Don't bullshit them, Darren!" Joey roared, completely losing his cool. "Don't fucking lie to them." Turning to face us, he said, "He's going to do his thirty days, come out a changed man, full of remorse and regret, show up to court in a nice suit one of his prick friends sorted him out with, and the judge is going to praise him for his efforts – his clean, sober living. And then we'll get the 'everyone deserves a second chance' spiel before they send him on his way with a slap on the wrist."
"Joey!" Darren snapped. "That's enough."
"A few months will pass, the social workers will phase us out – because, let's face it, lads, there's a line of fuckups just like us to deal with," Joey continued, ignoring Darren. "As long as we're all fed, clothed, relatively unscathed, and keeping up at school, we'll fade off their radar. They'll forget about us – just like before. "
"I said that's enough!" Darren roared. "You're scaring them!"
"And then he'll slither back into her bed like nothing ever happened," Joey added, narrowing his green eyes at Darren. "That's what's going to happen, and you're all fools if you believe otherwise."
