AOIFE

“AOIFE, I promise you faithfully that nobody is going to take your baby,” my mother said for the millionth time when we walked into the house after spending most of the day at the hospital being poked, prodded, swabbed, and grilled. “They already explained this to us. Nobody is questioning you. They’re only looking out for your welfare, sweetheart.”

“Well, I didn’t ask them to,” I strangled out, mentally reeling from the twists and turns the day had taken. “I’m clearly fine, Mam. I’m healthy, I look after myself, I come from a warm safe home, so I don’t understand why my life needs to be put under the microscope like that.”

“It’s not your lifestyle they’re concerned about,” she replied, setting her handbag down on the table. “Jesus Christ, Aoife, you should have come to me.”

“About what?” “About Joey.”

My heart sank. “Joey’s fine,” I heard myself defend. “He’s dealing with a

lot with his family right now, but he’ll be fine, Mam.” “Aoife.” She turned to look at me. “Can you not?” “Not what?”

“Not lie to me.”

“I’m not lying.” I threw my hands up. “He’s fine!”

My mother sighed wearily. “Why didn’t you tell me that he’s missing?” “He’s not missing,” I argued weakly. “He’s just clearing his head.”

“Aoife!”

“Maybe because I didn’t want you to think badly about him,” I admitted, voice torn. “Which is exactly what you’re doing now.”

“I don’t think badly of the boy,” she argued. “I’m worried about him. I’m worried for you.”

“Joey would never hurt me.” “That’s not what I’m saying.”

“Then what?” I demanded. “What’s there to worry about?”

“My daughter was just put through rigorous testing for diseases I’ve never heard about before today,” she snapped, moving for the kettle. “Of course I’m worried!”

“Well, you weren’t the one prodded with needles, and you didn’t have multiple swabs rammed up your fa—”

“Don’t use that word,” she warned, shuddering. “That’s a terrible word.” “Vagina,” I changed course and said. “Or your asshole, Mam, which, FYI,

is not a pleasant experience.”

“Well, we’ll know more when you’re results come back.”

“We already know,” I growled, stalking out of the kitchen. “I’m clean because Joey is clean!”

“Aoife, wait, we need to talk about this.”

“No, we don’t,” I called over my shoulder as I stomped up the staircase. “I need to shower.”

“This conversation isn’t over, young lady.”

“Want a bet?” I grumbled, storming into my bedroom and slamming the door behind me.

Kicking off my runners, I moved straight for my bed, wanting nothing more in this moment than to curl up in a ball under the covers and hibernate.

Because it was too much.

It was all too fucking much.

Depressed and angry, I stalked over to my wardrobe and kicked the door in frustration. “Assholes.”

Furious when my phone vibrated in my pocket, I pulled it out and glared at the screen, fully prepared to see my mother’s name on the screen.

The number calling wasn’t one I had stored in my contacts.

Instantly, I was racked with panic as I clicked accept and put the phone to my ear. “Hello?”

“Aoife, it’s me.” Three words.

Three words that took the air clean out of my lungs and my legs from

beneath me.

Staggering over to my bed, I sank down and allowed myself to absorb the tsunami of relief flooding my body.

Eight days of silence had brought me close to the brink of a nervous breakdown.

Hearing his voice melted the ice around my poor battered heart. “You bastard,” I choked out when my voice found me.

“I know.”

Trembling violently, I switched my phone to my left hand and pressed it to my ear, as tears streamed down my cheeks. “You fucking asshole!”

“I know, okay?” His voice was torn, his words slurred, and I didn’t need to be standing in front of him to know that his eyes were black as coal.

“Goddammit, Joey.” I bowed my head, feeling too much in this moment to have the strength to hold my head up. “You promised.”

“I know I promised,” came his torn response. “I fucked up.”

“You think?” I sneered, resisting the urge to throw my phone at my bedroom wall. “I’m pregnant with your baby and you just fall off the goddamn map! Anything could have happened to you, Joey. Anything. Don’t you get that? Don’t you understand how scared I’ve been?”

“I’m so fucking sorry, baby.” Pain.

Relief.

Fury. Devastation.

I was feeling everything in this moment.

“Are you okay?” I forced myself to ask, voice trembling. “Are you hurt?” “I, ah, I don’t know,” he mumbled, voice strained and slurred.

“Everything’s hazy and my eyes hurt.”

“Because you should still be in hospital!”

“Don’t hate me, Molloy.”

“I don’t hate you, Joey, I’m –“ Voice cracking, I sucked in a sharp breath and changed angles. “Where are you?” I demanded, shaking violently. “Whose phone are you calling me from?”

“I’m at, ah…” his words trailed off and I heard him bite back a pained groan before saying, “Kavanagh’s place.”

“Johnny Kavanagh?” My brows shot up. “How? Why? Who took you there?”

“I don’t know, Aoif,” he admitted quietly. “I’m feeling really fucked in the head here, baby. I don’t have my phone, and my ah, my wallet’s gone, too.”

“Dammit, Joe.” My heart sank. “Who were you with?”

“I don’t know,” he whispered. “My head’s in pieces. I can’t remember shit. I’m just so tired.”

“Because you’re not well,” I strangled out, blinking back my tears. “You’re sick, Joe.”

“I don’t know what I am,” I heard him say. “I don’t feel human anymore.”

Fear catapulted me into springing off my bed and pacing my bedroom floor. “Joey, you need to come home, okay? You need to come to my house right now.”

“No, no, no, I don’t want you to see me like this,” he croaked out. “I don’t want to hurt you anymore than I already have.”

“The only way you can hurt me is by avoiding me,” I urged, clutching my phone. “Ride or die, remember? It still stands, Joe. I love you.”

“I love you so fucking much.” His voice cracked. “I can’t even tell you how much because I don’t have enough words in my head to say it.”

“I know you do.” I clenched my eyes shut and gripped the phone tighter. “I know, Joe.”

“I’m so sorry.” His voice was slurred and held the hint of sleepiness. “I want you to be okay. You and the baby.”

“We are okay,” I tried to reassure him. “But we need you.” “Nobody needs me.”

“That’s not true,” I argued, heart disintegrating in my chest. “Come back

to me.”

“I just need to sleep,” he whispered brokenly. “I’m so fucking tired all the time and my eyes just hurt so fucking bad. It’s hard to stay awake.”

“Is Shannon with you?” I pressed my hand to my forehead and fought back my anxiety. “At Johnny’s place? Did she bring you there?”

“I think so,” he replied uncertainly. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

“Joey, listen.” Sniffling, I cleared my throat and tried to be the voice of reason for him. “Yeah, you fucked up, okay? You screwed the hell up. You can’t go back, but you can go forward. You don’t have to stay in this headspace, baby. I can help you. We can get you some help.”

There was a long pause before his sleep-deprived voice slurred, “What kind of help?”

“The professional kind,” I offered. “They have rehabs for teens in your position. They have to. I’ll find one for you, okay? We’ll get you the help you need to beat this thing, but you need to come back to me. Just come back to me, baby, and I’ll help you…”

“No one can help me, Molloy.”

“That’s not true,” I argued vehemently. “You’ve got a beautiful mind, Joey Lynch, and a wonderful heart. You can beat this. You just have to want to. It’s half the battle. You can still fix this. You have time. You can get better. Just try, Joe. That’s all you have to do. Just try, baby. I love you so much. Watching you self-destruct like this is killing me.”

“I only want you.”

“And I only want you,” I choked out. “But I need you healthy. I won’t let you destroy yourself. We have a baby on the way, Joey. I won’t let you throw in the towel now.”

“It’s too fucking late for me, Molloy.”

“No.” I shook my head. “Don’t say that.” “I’m fucked in the head.”

“I’m coming to get you,” I declared, searching my room for my car keys. “Just wait there and I’ll be over.”

“No, fuck, don’t come here,” he groaned. “I don’t want you to see me like this.”

“Joey, I’m coming.”

“If you come here, I’m out.” “Joey!”

“No, don’t come here, okay?” He groaned down the line before adding,

“Just let me get straightened out and I’ll come to you.”

Dragging my hands through my hair, I resisted the urge to pull on the ends and exhaled a strangled breath.

I couldn’t just leave him there.

Not when I finally knew where he was.

He had put me through hell the past eight days. I knew he was high.

I knew he was self-destructing.

I knew I couldn’t do a damn thing to stop him, but I still wanted to.

I still wanted to dive headfirst into the world he was drowning in and pull him to safety – or at the very least, keep his head above water.

“Stay on the line,” he whispered, voice drifting in and out. “I love you.” “Promise me you’ll stay at Johnny’s house.”

“I promise.”

“And you’ll come see me first thing tomorrow.” “First thing.”

“Joe, I mean it. Promise me.”

“I promise, I promise. I’m just…so tired.” “Where are you now?”

“His room. Big bed.”

“Okay.” Exhaling a ragged breath, I tried to wrangle my emotions into check, while I listened to the sound of him breathing down the line. Taking comfort in the knowledge that his heart was still beating. “I want you to curl up on that big old bed and get some sleep. Can you do that for me, Joe?”

“Mm.”

“Hey, Joe?”

“Hm?”

“Can you roll on your side for me, so that I know you won’t choke if you get sick?”

“Mm-mm.” “Good job, stud.” “Don’t go, queen.”

 

 

“I won’t.” “Stay with me.” “Always.”

WITH MY HEART thundering in my chest, I walked up the private driveway towards a familiar front door.

Knowing that I was clutching at straws by coming here, but having little else to cling to, I pressed my finger against the fancy doorbell and held my breath.

A few moments ticked by before the door swung inwards, and I was greeted by a middle-aged woman in hospital scrubs. “Can I help you?”

“Hi, yeah.” Blowing out a breath, I offered her a small smile. “So, I know he doesn’t live here, but I’m looking for, ah, for Gibsie?”

Recognition immediately flickered in the woman’s brown eyes, and she smiled warmly at me. “Usually, you would find Gerard here, but for once, he’s raiding his own fridge.” With her hand outstretched, she pointed to yet another impressive looking three-story house on the opposite side of the street. “He lives at number nine, sweetheart.”

“Thanks so much,” I replied, feeling myself sag with relief, as I quickly spun on my heels and moved to cross the quiet, cul-de-sac road.

“If you happen to see his curly-haired sidekick in your travels, please tell her that her mother said she’s grounded,” Mrs. Biggs called after me.

“Yeah, sure, no problem.” Too frazzled to take in a word of what she was saying, I hurried up to the front door and knocked repeatedly until the hall light came on.

This time, when the door opened, I was greeted by a surprised looking Gibsie. “Well, hey there, Mrs. Joey the hurler.”

“I need your help.”

“Okay…” Brows furrowing, he stepped aside for me, but I stayed where I was. “But if it’s advice you need help with, then I must warn you that I am a terrible choice of candidate.”

“I don’t want your advice, Gibsie.”

“That’s a relief,” he chuckled. “Because I’m bad at it. And when I say bad, I mean terrible. Ask anyone on this road. I am the very last person you should come to in a crisis—”

“Oh my god, stop talking and start listening.” “Shutting up now.”

“I need directions to your friend Johnny Kavanagh’s house,” I stated, feeling my anxiety rise with every minute that passed. “I’ve been there before, but I can’t remember the way, and I need to get there.”

“Shit.” Concern flicked in his grey eyes. “You’re looking for Joey.” My heart skipped a beat. “You’ve seen him?”

He nodded. “When?”

“Today.”

“How was he?”

He winced but didn’t reply.

That was enough to tell me what I already knew.

“Oh Jesus.” Feeling like my lungs had been severed, I pressed a hand to my chest and choked out a labored breath. “I need you to help me.”

“I think you should come inside,” he replied, still holding the door open for me.

“Please.” Tears burned my eyes, and I quickly blinked them away. “I need you to take me to him.”

“I don’t know.” Scratching his broad chest, Gibsie looked around aimlessly. “I, ah, I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“A good idea?” I glared at him. “I don’t give a shit what you think, Gibbers, I need to get to my boyfriend, and I’m asking you to help me.”

“I hear you,” he tried to coax, holding his hands up. “And I want to help you. I swear, I do. But—”

“Eight days,” I choked out, not bothering to lie or hide my emotions. If Gibsie saw Joey today, then he knew what I was dealing with. “I haven’t seen him in eight damn days.”

“He’s safe,” he replied, tone taking on a sincere tone. “I promise, okay? Kav’s got this. Your boy is sleeping it off at his gaff. Shannon’s there with him. You don’t have anything to worry about.”

“You don’t get it,” I bit out, repressing the urge to scream. “I need to see him.”

“I’m not going to lie to you. Your lad is in a real bad fucking way,” Gibsie came right out and told me. “But he’s safe. If you go over there and wake him up, fuck knows what he’ll do or where he’ll go.” He shook his head and gave me a sympathetic look. “I’m not trying to get in your business here, but I really really think you should let him sleep it—”

“Hi,” a familiar voice interrupted, moments before a blonde head of curls peeked out from under Gibsie’s arm. “It’s Aoife, right? From our 90’s party?” Clad in an oversized rugby jersey and a pair of fluffy pink pajamas bottoms and matching bunny slippers, she beamed at me. “You remember me, don’t you? I’m Claire Biggs.”

“Yeah, hi, I remem—“ Before I had a chance to finish, she snaked her hand out and caught ahold of mine.

“Come on inside before you freeze to death on the doorstep.” She slapped her pal’s chest. “Honestly, Gerard,” she scolded as she pulled me inside and led me down the hallway, through a dimly lit kitchen, and into a spacious conservatory. “Where are your manners? You don’t leave girls on the doorstep at night.”

“I didn’t,” Gibsie was quick to protest as he ambled along behind us. “I was holding the door for her like a gentleman.”

“Are you hungry?” Claire continued, leading me over to a cardboard box on the glass coffee table in the center of the room. “Thirsty?”

“No, I’m fine,” I replied, prying my hand free. “I just really need to… what the hell is that?” My mouth fell open and I watched as she dropped to

her knees in front of the table, awing and cooing at the contents of the box. “Is that a rat?”

“What? No,” Claire replied, retrieving the gardening glove next to the box and pulling it on before reaching inside and retrieving the prickly creature. “We found him in the middle of the road on the way back from Johnny’s place. He was all alone in the dark, and we couldn’t leave him there in case he got driven over, so we brought him home.” Smiling dotingly at the ‘thing’ in her hand, she cooed, “Isn’t he the most adorable ball of cuteness you’ve ever seen?”

“I, ah…” Shaking my head, I tried to come up with something logical to say when it felt like I had entered the twilight zone. “Guys, that’s a hedgehog.”

“His name is Reginald Gibson-Biggs,” Gibsie corrected, sitting cross- legged on the plush rug next to his gal-pal. “Come on, Claire-Bear. Don’t be greedy. It’s my turn.” Setting a pillow on his lap, he patted it and cooed, “Come to Daddy, Reggie.”

“Careful, Gerard, he’s really skinny.” “I know what I’m doing, Claire-Bear.”

“I know you do, but he’s just so itty-bitty.”

“That’s because he’s just come out of hibernation. Poor baby is starving.” “Should we get him some worms?”

“Do hedgehogs eat worms?” His brows furrowed. “I thought they ate grass.”

“I think I remember learning about a hedgehog’s diet in nature class.” “Shit, I didn’t take nature class.”

“Everyone in Ireland takes nature class in primary school, Gerard.” “Well, I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did.”

“When?”

“Remember being taken out on long walks with your teacher and class?” “Yeah?”

“Those were nature walks,” she explained. “For nature class.”

“Well shit,” he chuckled. “I thought they were movement breaks.”

Morbidly curious, I tilted my head to one side, watching as they took turns mothering a wild animal. “Should you be touching that thing?”

“Reggie.”

“Reggie,” I corrected, shuddering when Gibsie tickled its little underbelly. “Animals in the wild can carry diseases, you know.”

“Look at him,” Claire cooed, holding the prickly creature up for me to pet. “How can you even think that about something so precious?”

“Yeah, so… precious.” Achingly aware that I, too, was mothering something equally as precious to me in my womb, I took a safe step back and shrugged. “Listen, all I need is directions to Johnny’s house and I’ll be on my way.” Grimacing, I added, “And you guys can have all of the quality time you want with, uh, little Reggie.”