Page 88 of Keeping 13

“This is what you wanted, Darren,” Joey said in an eerily calm tone as he wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “You wanted her home with us. One big happy family.” Tilting his head to one side, he gestured toward our mother and said, “I hope we’ve met your expectations.”

I half expected Darren to say something defensive, but he didn’t. He didn’t say a word.

Instead, he looked at our mother who was staring into her coffee-stained mug and released a ragged breath. Shoving his chair back, he stood up and walked out of the kitchen without so much as a backwards glance.

A few seconds later, the sound of the front door slamming filled the air.

I threw my hands out and choked out a humorless laugh. “I don’t know why I’m surprised anymore.”

Exhaling heavily, Joey released his hold on me and walked into the kitchen, heading straight for the cooker. I watched as he silently went to work, filling a saucepan of water and then pouring the contents of a bag of pasta into it. Setting the saucepan down on the hob, he switched on the heat and flicked on the extractor fan overhead.

When he was done, he wiped his hands on the tea towel on the draining board before turning to face our mother. “Get up and take a shower,” he ordered, tone void of all emotion. “I need to feed the boys and they don’t need to see you like this.”

She flinched but didn’t move.

Like the million other times I’d watched this exact scenario unfold through the years, Joey walked over to the table, snatched the cigarette from her lips and stubbed it out. He then proceeded to place both the ashtray and coffee cup on the draining board before returning to her side. “Get up,” he repeated. “You stink of smoke and cider.”

Mam dropped her head in her hands and cried.

“Get up,” he said for the third time.

Once again, Mam made no move to stand. Instead, she snaked a hand out and grabbed his hand, clutching it tightly in both of hers. “Joey,” she sobbed, clinging to him. “Joey.”

With a resigned sigh, Joey swooped down and gently helped her out of her seat. A thousand different emotions played across my brother’s face as Mam leaned heavily on his rigid body, sniffling and sobbing against his chest.

“Keep an eye on the dinner, Shan” was all Joey said as he guided our mother out of the kitchen and up the old wooden staircase.

And here we are,I thought to myself,back to square one.

I took a few minutes to compose myself, wiping my eyes and blowing my nose, and then drained the pasta and mixed in a jar of sauce before calling the boys in from the front room. “Dinner.”

Wordlessly, Ollie and Sean ambled over to the table, taking their usual seats. Dishing up their plates, I set them down in front of them with a glass of water each.

I waited for them to tuck into their food before turning to face Tadhg, who was leaning against the fridge with his arms folded across his chest. “Are you hungry?” I asked, holding a plate out to him.

He glared at the pasta in my hands for a long moment before turning around and walking away.

Tadhg’s silence spoke volumes and it matched my feelings. I knew he was furious, so was I, but he was reining it in because we had something back in our house, something that we were both desperate to not push away.

Not feeling one morsel of hunger, I sat at the table, in the chair my mother had vacated, and waited for the boys to finish before cleaning off the table and washing the dishes.

Numb, I fell into the age-old pattern that was my life, as I tidied up after the boys and helped Sean get dressed for bed. All the while, Joey dealt with Mam upstairs.

I found myself checking both the front and back door over and over again, making sure they were locked and then panicking when the sound of a car whizzing past outside filled my ears.

Breathe, Shannon.

You’re fine.

Everything’s going to be okay.

A little over an hour later, Joey returned to the kitchen. “She’s asleep,” he stated, moving for the plate of dinner I had set aside for him. “I gave her a couple of her Valiums.”

Nodding, I curled my fingers around my cup of tea and blew into the rim, never once taking my eyes off my brother as he heated his plate in the microwave. Joey joined me at the table, where he ate in complete silence.

“Are you okay?” I finally asked.

“No,” he replied quietly, setting his fork down on his empty plate. “Are you?”

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