Page 77 of Forever Flames: Padraig & Stevie
Nearly Two Years Later
Thehousesmellslikea childhood memory.
The table’s full of platters of food. Three roast chickens. Fresh brown bread. Mounds of mashed potatoes. Carrots and parsnips.
Ma barks at Brennan and Seamus to set the table faster. The air is thick with chatter and nostalgia.
It’s the first family dinner since Da’s accident where every chair at the dining table will be filled. Liam and I have seen Connor, Ma, and the boys in spurts over the last year, but we’ve not spent any time here.
Coming home makes the ache for Stevie worse. Her parents still live next door and my memories of her are everywhere. I try not to picture her smile or the way she used to curl up on the couch while Liam and I rehearsed. Or how we’d ditch school early to sneak up to my bedroom and get lost in each other.
There’s not a goddamn room in this house where I don’t have a memory of the woman who smashed my heart to smithereens.
I try not to think about her in New York living the life we should have shared. Ma’s best friends with Lucinda, so I know she married Cooper a year after we fucked each other raw. Since then I’ve banned her from sharing anything Stevie-related. If my brothers know anything, they respect me enough to STFU as well.
It’s too fucking painful.
But, I’m here. Doing my best to move on. Sitting shoulder to shoulder with my family, even if the closeness we once shared is fractured.
Once the table is set, Ma calls us all in. Connor takes the head of the table where Da used to sit, broad shoulders squared. Our oldest brother carries the quiet authority he’s earned with confidence. The rest of us join him as Cillian strolls in with a beer in hand.
Liam’s eyes flick to mine. Neither of us say anything, but we’re shocked. He and I stopped drinking after what happened with Da. Watching our twenty-year-old brother twist the cap off a Heineken like it’s nothing twists my gut.
Not my place, though. Tonight’s supposed to be a step toward reconciliation.
Despite the basic chatter, everything about this night feels off. It doesn’t help I feel completely out of place in my own family, as does Liam. Connor’s intentions of getting us the fuck away from Da may have come from a place of protectiveness, but it’s clear we don’t belong here anymore.
Looking over my shoulder at the shuffling noise behind me, I’m taken aback at the sight of Da. He’s thinner and his face is hollow. Pain is carved into every line. The man isn’t even fifty and he’s using a cane like he’s three decades older. His eyes are clear, though, and they sweep the table, landing on us.
“Good to see you, lads,” he mumbles as he approaches.
I nod and force a small smile but Liam doesn’t look up from his plate. Defiant in the way only he can pull off. Da lingers for a beat, waiting for an acknowledgment —which doesn’t come—before he lowers himself into a chair with a sharp breath.
The atmosphere bristles until Ma waves her hands over the table.
“Now eat,” she demands, spooning potatoes onto Seamus’ plate. “You’ll waste away if you don’t.”
We obey because it’s what we’ve always done, and though Ma’s food is delicious, it takes every ounce of effort for me not to bound out of here to a place where the air isn’t so thick with sorrow.
Nothing about this family gathering feels normal. At least not for me. Connor, Brennan, Seamus, and Cillian have lived through it all. Every doctor’s visit. Every night Da slipped too far into the painkillers. The verbal abuse. All the rest.
Liam and I have been spared, protected. The repercussions are obvious. We’re visitors at our childhood home. Years and years of experiences we’ve never shared with our family and they’ve never shared with us.
They don’t know us anymore.
Connor makes an effort to keep us engaged in the conversation. “The Mission tomorrow,” he tilts his head toward me, “it’s a big room. Sold out. Can’t believe it.”
“Yeah, it’ll be a great show.” I hover a bite of chicken in front of my mouth. “We haven’t played Seattle since…”
He nods once. “You’ll crush it. Appreciate you boys opening for us when you could be headlining. At least we’ll have a crowd.”
“Happy to.” I shrug. Years ago, I predicted we’d shift slot positions and now it’s happened. I try not to be too bitter.
After dinner, Connor leaves for band practice and Ma and I clear the table. As we stack plates on the counter, she presses a hand to my arm. “It’s good you’re home. We all miss you both.”
“Yeah? It’s not easy for me to be here,” I admit as the sink fills with soapy water.
Ma dries her hands on a dish towel, hesitating like she’s bracing herself. “I know and Padraig, I’ve respected your wishes not to bring up Stevie.” She sighs. “There’s something I need to tell you. I can’t keep it from you anymore.”
