"You're breaking my heart.” Her voice cracked. "You're killing yourself."
The feelings I knew I should have, weren’t present inside the gaping hole in my chest. I was fucked. There was no point in denying it. No point in fighting it, either. Not when my own mother didn’t have faith in me.
“You’re just like him. In every way.”
What was the point in fighting my DNA?
This was who I was, and I had a horrible feeling that I couldn't be fixed or put back together again.
I couldn't reset my life. I was paralyzed and trapped in a body that resembled the person I despised most of all.
Well, almost.
I was starting to despise myself just that little bit more these days.
It killed me to know that I was hurting my mother, though.
To think that I was making her feel the way he did.
“Yeah.” Closing my eyes, I dropped my head on her shoulder and sighed. “Okay, Mam.”
ANGEL WITH HER DIRTY WINGS
OCTOBER 31ST 2001
AOIFE
“I am so damn sorry about what happened in there.” Catching a hold of my hand, Paul led me away from a crowd of nearby partygoers, as he tried to weasel his way back into my good books.
Out of the corner of my eye, I watched as a black Honda Civic tore back up the entrance of the pavilion, causing my heart to hammer violently.
He was back.
The car door opened, and out fell a laughing Joey, with a cigarette dangling from his lips, and a can of Dutch Gold in his hand.
Unsteady on his feet, he banged the roof of the car to signal goodbye, before waving the car off.
Laughing to himself, he took a drag of his smoke and looked around, eyes finally landing and staying on me.
I waved at him.
He raised his hand to wave back but stopped when his gaze flicked to Paul.
His smile disappeared.
“You were only dancing,” Paul continued, drawing my attention back to him. “I get it now. I was being a tool. I’m sorry, Aoif. I am.” Blowing out a frustrated breath, he let go of my hand to run his hands through his hair. “I’m a jealous, asshole, okay? I can’t help it. Look at you.”
“Look at me?” Folding my arms across my chest, I leaned against the parked car at my back, and gave him a hard look. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“It means you’re beautiful and I lose my head around you.”
“Flattery won’t get you out of this,” I warned, flicking my gaze back to find Joey had disappeared from sight. “You called me a slut and a whore.”
“Aoife, come on,” he tried to plead. “You know I didn’t mean it. I don’t really feel that way about you.”
“If you don’t mean it, then you shouldn’t say it,” I snapped, unable to mask the emotion in my voice.
Because it hurt.
Having him think that way about me was not a good feeling.
Our relationship was a goddamn trainwreck, but it hurt to hear him say those things to me because before we hooked up, we were friends.
I’d always known that Paul was materialistic and vain. It never used to bother me that much because I had plenty of flaws myself.
I was loud and outspoken, could entice an argument from a silent monk – as my father liked to remind me, and I was especially slow to get intimate.
He always tolerated my flaws and therefore I tolerated his.
But lately, I was beginning to think that being able to mutually tolerate one another wasn’t a good enough reason to stay in a relationship.
Especially when said relationship was starting to weigh heavily on my shoulders.
“Look, I think it’s pretty clear that we’re not working out,” I heard myself finally work up the courage and tell him. “I’m not happy, and you’re not happy, so I don’t see why we should continue—"
“Don’t say it,” he warned, eyes wild with panic, as he grabbed my hands and pulled me towards him. “We’re not breaking up, Aoife. It’s not happening, so get it out of your head.”
“Get it out of my head?” I slapped his hands away. “You don’t get to make all of the decisions here, Paul. I have a say in whether or not I want to be in this relationship. You can’t force me.”
“You want him.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You know exactly what I’m talking about.” He narrowed his eyes in disgust. “Who I’m talking about.”
I released a heavy breath. “This isn’t about Joey.”
“It’s always about him, Aoife,” he practically roared, losing his cool with me. “It will always come back to him because you are all about him. Don’t bother denying it. It’s written all over your face.”
“He’s my friend, Paul.”
“Bullshit.”
“I’m not fighting with you about this,” I growled. “I have a friendship with Joey, and I’m not giving that up for anyone.”
“You mean you’re not giving him up,” he corrected and then choked out a humorless laugh. “Jesus Christ, how blind can you get? The asshole doesn’t want you. When are you going to get it through your thick skull? He doesn’t give two shits about you, and it’s fucking pathetic to see you fall over him like this.”
“Paul!”
“Look!” he demanded then, physically turning me around so that I had a perfect view of the side of the pavilion. “Look at him,” Paul ordered, catching ahold of my chin and forcing me to watch as Danielle Long pinned Joey against the wall of the pavilion and thrust her tongue inside his mouth. And even though his hands hung limply at his sides, he rocked his hips and kissed her back.
Oh yeah, he was definitely into it.
Into her.
My breath hitched in my throat, and it took everything I had inside of me to stand my ground and not break down.
“Look,” Paul reiterated, forcing me to take it all in. “That’s how much he’s thinking about you, Aoife. He doesn’t give a damn.”
I’LL STAY WITH YOU
OCTOBER 31ST 2001
JOEY
“You can be such a…fuck up, Joey,” Mam screamed, heaving in pain, as she gripped the side rail of the bed and released a high-pitched, feral scream. “You’re…just…like…him…sometimes.”
“I said I was sorry,” I strangled out, as the high I’d been floating on quickly gave way to a severe case of the shakes. “Stop looking at me like that.”
Reality was crashing down around me in huge tsunami-sized waves, as I continued to plummet back down to earth.
Still, I was here, wasn’t I?
I was the one holding her hand.
Where the fuck was he?
"Okay, Marie, on the next contraction, I want you to give me a big push," the midwife instructed. She pushed me out of her way, as she settled between my mother’s legs with an array of medical supplies and instruments that my mind could not comprehend. "You're nearly there, pet. I can see the head. Another big push and you’ll be crowning."
“Just, ah…" Feeling woozy, I backed away from my mother’s hospital bed, needing to do something, needing to be just about anywhere other than there. "I'll be back…"
"No – Joey, don’t go!" Mam cried out, catching ahold of my hand with a death grip. "Please don’t leave me on my own."
"Mam, I don’t…" Shaking my head to clear to my vision, I felt her squeeze my hand. I tried to make sense of my surroundings while attempting not to puke. "I'm just, ah –" Blinking rapidly, I wiped my brow with my sleeve and forced myself to concentrate on her face. “Please don’t make me do this.”
“I need you,” she cried out, trembling. “I don’t have anyone else.”
Through the haze of withdrawal, I could see the terror in her blue eyes, and it was sobering.
“Please… I’m scared.”
“Okay.” Returning to her side, I gave my hand up to her, never saying a word when she squeezed my fingers so tight, they almost cracked. “I won’t leave you.”
“It’s coming!” Mam screamed, as her face distorted in pain.
“Pant, Marie, just pant.”
Jesus fucking Christ…
Never mind telling her to pant; I was about to pass the fuck out.
“That’s the head out,” the midwife announced. “Good girl yourself. The next contraction and he’ll be born.”
“Joey, don’t go, please don’t go,” Mam cried out, tone panicked. “I’m all alone. I need you…please…”