“Yeah, me, too,” she replied with a sigh. “I’m on my break.”
“Well, I’m not,” I replied, growing frustrated by the distraction. It was an unfamiliar feeling for me because when I was at work, I was at work. I didn’t mess about. I put my head down and got shit done. Unlike the deviant on the other line. “So, I’m hanging up now.”
“No, no, no, don’t hang up” Molloy whined down the line. “Stay on the line and keep me company.”
“Call Casey to keep you company,” I replied. “I have a lot to get done here before I clock out.”
“Joe—”
“Do you want to meet up at five?” I growled. “Because that won’t happen if you don’t let me finish my jobs, Molloy.”
“Fine.” She huffed out a breath. “I’ll call Casey.”
“You do that,” I replied. “Bye.”
“Love you.”
“See you at five.”
“Say it.”
“Jesus Christ, just go the fuck back to work.”
“Say it and I will.”
“No.” I blew out a frustrated growl. “Stop pushing.”
“You love it when I push you,” she teased, and then her voice took on a flirty purr when she added, “But you love it even more when I pull you.”
“What have I gotten myself into?”
“The best relationship of your life.”
She wasn’t wrong there. “See you at five.”
POTTY TRAINING AND PEP TALKS
JULY 6TH 2004
JOEY
I didn’t want to be here.
Not in this house, or this family.
Unfortunately for me, God didn’t let children pick their parents.
If he did, then maybe there would be less miserable children in the world.
If he did, then I sure as hell wouldn’t be anywhere near these people.
No fucking way.
“Okay, kid, let’s do this.” Shaking my head to clear my pissy thoughts, I focused on the task in hand and gave my little brother two enthusiastic thumbs up. "Give it your best shot."
With big brown eyes, my baby brother stared up at me from his perch on the potty. "Gots no poos, Dada."
Bullshit, I just caught you crouching behind the couch.
"Try," I said instead, clicking into an earlier text from Molloy. "And good fucking job, kid. That was almost an intelligible sentence."
Molloy: It’s Saturday. It’s sunny. It’s our summer break from school. So, explain to me why I’m sunbathing in the garden with spud licking his balls near my face instead of lying on a beach with your balls near my face instead?
Grinning, I leaned against the bathroom wall, and quickly tapped out a text and pressed send.
Joey: Got things to do @ home. Don’t worry, though, I’ll call over tonight and you can have my balls in your face as much as you want. I’ll even wash them first.
Molloy: Wow. Such a gent! I bet you do that for all the girls.
Joey: Only the ones who give excellent head.
Molloy: Always happy to please a fan.
Molloy: So…how would you feel about skipping town for a night this weekend? There’s this techno rave festival in Kerry, and I really want to go.
Joey: Can’t.
Molloy: No…. Why?? We don’t have to go for the whole weekend. Just one night?
Joey: Wish I could. Got responsibilities @ home.
“He’s not your daddy, Sean,” Ollie called out, dragging my attention away from my phone to see Ollie poking his head around the shower curtain, where he was supposed to be washing himself. “He’s Joey, remember? Our big brother.”
“O-ee,” Sean recited slowly, frowning up at me for a long moment. “O-ee dada.”
“No,” Ollie corrected, growing irritated. “Stop saying that, Sean.”
“Dada.”
“No, Sean, stop!”
“Calm down, Ols,” I sighed wearily, sliding my phone back in my pocket. “It doesn’t matter.”
“But it’s weird, Joe.”
Tell me about it.
“He’ll get there in his own time,” I replied.
"You're wasting your time with that one, Ols," Tadhg grumbled from the bathroom doorway. "That baby is broken in the head. He’s going to be three in October, and he can't even talk yet."
Yeah, because he’s been knocked around the head more times than you have fingers to count.
"You'll be broken in the head if you talk about him like that again," I snapped. "Besides, you were almost four before you could wipe your own hole, so don’t get all high and mighty on me."
"I was fucking not!" Tadhg huffed, outraged.
“Watch your language, asshole,” I warned. “And yeah, you were.”
“What?” Tadhg’s mouth fell open. “But you just called me an ass—“
“I’m older than you.” I smirked. “I can say what I want.”
"I was two when I learned to use the toilet," Ollie, chimed proudly. “And you're not 'posed to say the F word, Tadhg."
"Oh look," Tadhg shot back sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "Another brother who can't talk right."
“Oh, yes, I can.”
“Say supposedly.”
“Su-pose-ably.”
“Exactly.”
"Pack it in," I warned, tossing a roll of toilet paper at him. "And you," I added, addressing Ollie this time. "Wash yourself properly this time. You could grow cabbages in those ears."
“I could?” His eyes lit up with delight. “Really?”
Jesus.
“No, not really, ya dope,” Tadhg replied, verbalizing my thoughts aloud. “Christ, where did he even come from?”
“Mam’s privates,” Ollie replied with a shrug. “Same as you guys.”
“Privates?” Tadhg gaped at our younger brother. “Who the hell says that?”
“Well, it’s really called a regina,” Ollie replied happily. “Shannon’s got one, too, you know. That’s what my teacher said girls got down there. And we’re ‘posed to use the proper word for it.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold the fuck up.” I cocked a brow and stared at my brother. “Your teacher told you that?”
“Uh-huh.”
I gaped. “But you’re barely nine.”
“Yep.” He nodded. “She was teaching us all about the reginas at school before the summer holidays. And the penises. They’re the birds – the girls, I mean. The boys are the bees, ‘cause we sting, you know.”
“It’s called a vagina, not a regina, ya little freak,” Tadhg grumbled, clutching his stomach. “Get out of the way, Joe, I need to puke.”
“Seany poos,” a small voice squealed in delight, thankfully drawing my attention away from the strangest child I’d ever encountered. “Seany poos, Dada!”
“He’s not your dada!” both Ollie and Tadhg said in unison. “He’s your brother.”
“Please say he did it,” I whispered wistfully, as I grabbed the toddler and lifted him off the potty for further inspection. “Oh my god, lads. He fucking did it.” I grinned, feeling a mixture of pride and amazement. “Today is a good day, boys.”
“Jesus.” Tadhg shook his head. “If Sean taking a dump makes you this happy, then you really need to start to get out more often, Joe. Imagine what seeing a pair of—”
“Don’t say it,” I warned, reaching for the roll of toilet paper. “Good man, Seany-boo. Next thing you’re going to learn is how to wipe your own ass.”
Tadhg snickered. “Good luck with that.”
“It’s called a buck-cocks,” Ollie chimed in. “That’s what teacher says.”
“Jesus,” I grumbled, shaking my head.
Tadhg was right.
I needed to get out of here
My phone pinged in my pocket, and I didn’t need to read Molloy’s latest message to be convinced of anything, as I quickly tapped out a text and pressed send.
Joey: That festival at the weekend? I’m in.
SUMMER LOVING: I GOT ME A TATT
JULY 11TH 2004
AOIFE
Joey never should have let me talk him into going to that damn techno festival in Tralee on Friday night.
If he hadn’t, then we wouldn’t be here. Two days later, in a shitty B&B, on the side of the road, in the middle of the backend of Kerry. Not a penny in our pockets to rub together and dying slow deaths from the kind of alcohol abuse that turned a man’s liver yellow.
We were a disgrace, and my only consolation was the fact that it was all Joey’s fault for going along with my idea.
God, he was so damn impressionable sometimes.