They had big egos, larger than life attitudes, and highly charged sex drives. Loyal to their families, their team, and not a lot else.
Trust my stubborn teenage hormones to spazz out at the sight of one.
Acknowledging it was the safest option, I decided I would move forward from tonight's events by blocking out everything I had learned about Johnny Kavanagh and by avoiding him.
I was young but I wasn’t stupid, and I knew that harboring any sort of feelings, harmless crush or not, for a boy like Johnny Kavanagh would do me no favors in the long run.
Because in all honesty, since the day he knocked me out, I'd been harboring a lot of conflicting emotions towards him.
But the horrible way Johnny handled his discomfort tonight, along with the talk from Joey, was the cool, hard dose of reality that I needed to kick myself back into touch.
I needed to forget about him.
And I would.
I hoped.
20
Mother knows best – only in the movies
Shannon
When I woke up for school on Wednesday morning, my mother was waiting for me.
In my rush to get out of the house – and away from my father – I almost didn’t see her.
It was only when I stopped in the hall to retrieve my coat that I noticed her sitting at the kitchen table, clasping a mug of coffee between her hands.
"Mam?" I frowned at the sight of her.
She looked exhausted, with dark circles under her eyes, complexion pale and gaunt.
She was wrapped up in her old, frayed, polka-dot dressing gown – the last Christmas present Darren had given her before he left.
Abandoning my coat on the baluster, I wandered into the kitchen. "What are you doing up?"
"Shannon," she acknowledged, forcing a weak smile. "Come and sit with me for a bit."
I did because it was so unusual to see her at this time of morning, and I knew something was wrong.
I checked my watch, making sure that I hadn't accidently slept in or something. 05:45.
Nope, I was early and something was definitely wrong.
Scraping a chair back, I lowered myself into the seat opposite her and asked, "What's going on, Mam?"
"Can't I get up to see you off to school?"
No.
Not really.
Not at all.
My silent response must have spoken volumes because Mam set her mug down and reached for my hand.
"Shannon," she finally got on with it and said, "I know you feel like we don’t – that sometimes your father isn’t very – I just want you to know that I love all my children equally, but you're my special one."
That was a lie.
I wasn’t her special anything.
Darren was her favorite, and when he left, Mam was never the same.
In truth, between shifts at work and taking care of the younger kids, she barely noticed me.
I loved my mother, I truly did, but that didn’t mean I didn’t resent her weakness, which I did.
A lot.
Uncomfortable, I slid my hand out from beneath hers and asked, "Did you sign my permission slip for the school trip to Donegal?"
I knew she hadn't.
It was still on top of the bread bin – unsigned.
"I'm not comfortable with you being so far from home, Shannon," she explained, worrying on her bottom lip. "Donegal is a long way away."
Exactly.
"I want to go, Mam," I whispered. "Claire and Lizzie are going and I really want to go. I need to have the permission slip handed in before Friday – otherwise they won't let me go."
Okay, so that was a lie, I had until after the holidays to hand in the form, but putting the pressure on her was the only chance I had of getting her to sign those forms "What if something happens to you up there?" Mam offered. "What if someone goes at you?"
"There's more chance of that happening in this house," I muttered under my breath.
Mam flinched. "Shannon –"
"Did he tell you what happened last night?" I bit out, knowing that this was what she wanted to talk to me about – what she wanted to make sure I didn’t talk about.
Straightening my shoulders, I stared across the table at my mother. "Did he tell you what he did to Joey?"
"He has a name," Mam said in a tight voice.
"Did he tell you?" was all I replied.
"Yes, your father told me what happened," she finally replied.
"And that's it?" I leaned back in my chair and studied her face. "That's all you have to say about it?"
"Shannon, it's complicated." Mam sighed heavily and dropped her head. "We're all under a lot of pressure right now, what with the baby coming in the summer and your father being out of work. Money's tight, Shannon, and it affects your father. He has a lot on his mind –"
"He split Joey's lip, Mam!" I swallowed down the lump in my throat. "Over a packet of biscuits. And if he's worried about money then maybe he should stop gambling and drinking the children's allowance money!"
My mother flinched at my words, but I was glad I had spoken them.
It needed to be said.
I just wished she start listening.
"Your father told me you were late home from school," she continued to say. "He was very upset about a picture of you in the paper –"
"It was a school picture!"
"With a boy?"
"Oh my god," I cried. "Not you, too."
"No." She shook her head. "Of course not. I understand these things, but your father was very upset over it. You know how he gets –"
"So, it's my fault he beat my brother and tried to strangle me?" I choked back the sob of outrage threatening to burst out of me. "For getting home late, or having a school picture taken, or for moving to Tommen? Which one, Mam? Or is everything I do wrong? Am I to blame for everything that goes wrong in this family?"
"No, of course it's not your fault, Shannon," she quickly tried to retract. "You're not to blame, and your father loves you very much. But you know he has fears of you ending up like me. And he and Joey have a complicated relationship," she said, trying to talk her way out of her responsibilities with lies, "Joey knows better than to rile him up like that–"
I cut her off with a shake of my head.
"Stop defending him," I hissed, keeping my voice low as to not wake the man who had been successfully ruining my life every day since March 13th of 1989 – the day I entered this world and toxic fucking family. "Just stop, Mam! Nothing you ever say helps. It just keeps happening over and over again. So just stop apologizing and trying to explain his behavior away. We're tired of hearing it."
"I'm doing the best I can, Shannon," my mother whispered.
"For who, Mam?"
Her eyes flashed with anger when she looked at me and spat, "For my family."
"For him," I muttered under my breath.
My mother flinched, but I didn’t take my words back.
They were the truth.
"You can't speak to me like this," she snapped. "You have no idea how hard it is coming home every night to world war three."
I didn’t respond.
I had nothing to say.
If she truly believed that I didn’t know what it felt like to live in a warzone, then she was delusional as well as a neglectful mother.
"I'm tired of this, Shannon," she said. "I'm exhausted from living like this. And I'm tired of being judged by my own children."
"Well join the club, Mam," I bit out. "We're all tired of living like this."
"Don’t cheek me," she warned. "I won't put up with it, Shannon. I'm telling you now I will tell –"
"My father?" I filled in for her, tone high and pitchy. "That's what you were going to say, wasn’t it, Mam? You're going to tell him on me?"
"You need to show me some respect, Shannon," she growled. "I'm working myself to the bone to put you through school, and I sure as hell don’t appreciate you talking to me like I'm the shit on your shoe!"
"Well, I don’t appreciate being called a whore every time I walk through the front door," I choked out, my emotions spilling over.
Guilt for upsetting my mother was churning inside of me, mixing with a lifetime's worth of resentment, fear, and anger.
"Because that's what he calls me, Mam," I strangled out hoarsely. "According to my father, I'm nothing but a dirty whore."
"He was worried about you," she replied. "He didn’t know how you got home last night."