"Loyal, kind, forgiving, fearless, nurturer, protector." He smiled up at me. "Joseph acted… He took on a role…. He was the father of the lost."
I frowned, confused. “Granda, it's me. Joey.”
"I named you Joseph," he croaked out, swallowing hard now. “Did you know that?”
“No.” I shook my head. “I didn’t know. How’d that come around?”
"Your father wanted to name you Theodor after him,” he strangled out, breathing labored. “He said you were going to be just like him…” he paused to cough wheezily. "But you were no Teddy. You were Joseph." He coughed again. "So, I bribed him with a tenner for the pub, and called you what I wanted you to be called." He smiled up at me. "My Joseph. My brave, brave boy. Terrible burdens. A cursed cross to carry. But always rising from the ashes. Always getting back up. Always the… protector.”
“Yeah.” Panicked, I looked around the empty room, feeling at a loss. “Granda, I’m just going to go and get the nurse for you, okay?”
“Don’t give in to them,” he rasped, holding onto my hand with strength I was surprised he was capable of. “Promise me that you’ll… never… give in to them.”
“Give in to who, Granda?” I croaked out.
Gasping and wheezing for air, he looked me right in the eyes, green eyes on green and whispered, “the demons your father put in your head.”
I’LL BE SEEING YA, MOLLOY
APRIL 14TH 2003
AOIFE
Joey’s great-grandfather died on a Friday, and the following Monday, I sat with my father, in one of the pews at the back of St. Patrick’s church, as he and his family prepared to lay him to rest.
Dad went to show support to his apprentice that he was so fond of.
I went for the exact same reason.
Keeping our distance, we watched as Joey wrangled his brothers and sister into a pew behind who I knew was their great-grandmother. Their mother and father didn’t come, so the Lynch children sat alone.
Sitting in the second row from the front, Joey sat on the edge of the pew, with a baby on his lap, and his sobbing sister beside him.
The two younger boys sat beside Shannon and spent the entire service nudging and poking each other in the ribs, only stopping when their older brother leaned over and threatened violence.
Afterwards, at the graveside, I watched as he parented his four younger siblings with a proficiency that a grown man would struggle to master.
It was so impressive, so heartbreaking, and so incredibly hot all in one breath.
I waited behind my father in the queue to pay my respects to the family, dutifully shaking each one of their hands and mumbling the age-old “I’m sorry for your troubles” funeral line that was ingrained in every Irish person to grace the earth.
“Aoife!” Ollie squealed when I reached him in the queue. “Thanks for coming.”
“No problem,” I replied, offering him a warm smile and a handshake. “I’m very sorry to hear about your grandfather, Ollie.”
“Me too,” he agreed with a solemn nod. “It’s real sad, huh? Poor Granda gots the die-mone-ia.”
“Pneumonia,” Tadhg corrected, elbowing in his younger brother before reluctantly shaking my outstretched hand. “When are you going to learn how to speak, asshole?”
“Stop swearing, Tadhg,” Shannon whisper-hissed, as she balanced Sean on her hip, and gingerly took my hand. “Thank you for coming.”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” I told her, giving her small hand a soft squeeze. “You too, little buddy,” I added, unable to resist the urge to ruffle the blond-haired infant’s curls, before moving on to the next sibling, which just so happened to be the one I had come for.
“I’m very sorry for your troubles, lad,” my father said, clapping Joey on the shoulder before moving along to the next mourner.
“Thanks, Tony,” Joey said, and then he flicked his surprised green eyes on me. “Molloy.”
“Joey.”
“You came.”
“I did.”
He stared hard at me for the longest moment before blowing out a ragged breath, and muttering the word, “Thanks.”
“Of course.” Sliding my hand into his, I squeezed and leaned in on my tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek. “I’m so sorry, Joe.”
Nodding stiffly, he squeezed my hand back and then leaned away, gaze flicking to where my father was, clearly checking to see if he was watching us.
“Well, bye,” I whispered, moving along the queue, when all I wanted to do was stay right there in front of him.
“I’ll be seeing ya, Molloy,” he replied, with a small wink that was just for me.
“Yeah.” My heart hammered in response, and I quickly turned on my heels, and walked straight back, not stopping until I had my arms wrapped around his waist, and my face buried in his neck. “You will.”
Joey was rigid for a long moment before his arms came around my body and his pulled me tightly against him.
Gripping the back of his shirt, I released a shaky breath and kissed his cheek once more before forcing myself to leave.
SPECIAL_IMAGE-images/svgimg0003.svg-REPLACE_ME
“I’m telling you, Trish, that young lad’s father is septic,” I heard my father say when I walked into the kitchen later that night. “A good for nothing drunk. You should have seen the way he told the poor lad about his grandfather dying the other week. It was heartless, love. The man is heartless,” he continued, not noticing me – or my pricked ears – as I hovered in front of the fridge, pretending to busy myself with rearranging a tray of eggs. “You should have seen the look in his eyes.”
“Poor Joey,” Mam said with a sad sigh.
My heartbeat quickened at the sound of his name.
“Poor lad is right,” Dad agreed. “And then he tried to bribe a few bob out of the boy for the pub.”
“You’re joking?”
“I’m not, love. He actually asked the young fella for money.”
“Jesus, that’s desperate, Tony.”
“Tell me you’re joking,” I demanded and then quickly stifled a groan when I realized that I had outed myself. Ah crap.
“What are you doing ear-wigging over there, young lady?” Mam asked. “It’s after eleven. Don’t you have school in the morning?”
“I’m only in the door from work,” I explained, gesturing to my uniform. “Am I not allowed to eat something before I go to bed?”
“There’s a pot of stew on the stove,” Mam said, as she continued to iron – yes, the woman never stopped – the corner of one of Kev’s shirts.
“How are ya, my little pet?” Dad smiled warmly up at me from his perch at the table. “Was it busy down the pub tonight?”
“It was packed for a Monday night,” I replied, kicking off my heels, and untucking my white shirt from the waistband of my black, mini, pencil-skirt. “Mam, I need a new pair of black tights,” I added, gesturing to the hole in the ones I had on, while I grabbed a bowl off the draining board and half-filled it with my mother’s stew. “I snagged my leg on the corner of a table I was serving, and some old fella asked me if it was a ladder I had in my tights or a stairway to heaven.”
Dad narrowed his eyes. “I hope you gave him a good clip around the ear.”
“Didn’t have to,” I replied between mouthfuls of stew. “His wife did it for me.”
“The cheek of some of those old men,” Mam sighed. “There’s a spare pair in my wardrobe. I’ll fish them out for you later, pet.”
“Thanks, Mam.” Turning my attention back to my dad, I asked, “So, you’ve met Joey’s dad?”
“Met him?” Dad shook his head. “I went to school with the man.”
My eyes widened, curiosity piqued, as I quickly slurped down what was left in my bowl. “I never knew that?”
“Ah, he was in the same year as myself and your mother,” Dad explained with a nod. “We weren’t in the same circle of friends, but we knew him well enough.” Frowning, he added, “I’m sure he played hurling with your principal, what’s his name…”