AOIFE
I’LL BE SEEING YA, Molloy.
I’ll come back for you. For both of you.
“AOIFE, come on, will you? You need to focus!” My brother’s voice cut through my thoughts. I looked up from the copybook I was doodling in to see Kev staring at me from across the kitchen table, an expectant look on his face. “Have you heard a word I’ve said in the past two hours?”
I could have lied, but I didn’t have the energy. “No?”
“Aoife.” He sighed heavily. “This is your leaving cert. You can’t walk into the exams tomorrow with doodles all over your English paper.”
“But my doodles are cute,” I said, adding a little smiley face to my latest drawing. “Look at this adorable spider in its web.”
“I’m sure the cute little spider will be a fantastic addition to the baby’s nursery,” he retorted dryly. “But it won’t help you pass your exams, and we need you to pass them, remember?”
“What’s the point, Kev?” I admitted, exposing my vulnerability. Even though we’d called a fragile truce and my brother was trying to make amends by tutoring me, our relationship was still strained. “We both know I don’t have a hope of passing the leaving cert. There’s too much to do and not enough time.”
Honestly, I’d read more in the past three days than I had in eighteen years.
Cramming for exams was a disaster, and while my brother was a fantastic teacher, I couldn’t focus on anything but my boyfriend.
Three weeks had passed since the funeral, since Joe had been admitted to a rehabilitation facility up the country, but it felt like I was still stuck in that day. Time moved on, but my mind was frozen in that moment.
I couldn’t reach him, and it was tearing me apart.
According to Edel Kavanagh, who had been in touch every week since the funeral, Joe didn’t have phone privileges in rehab. It was against their policy for patients to have mobile phones or any contact with the outside world until they were further along in their recovery.
“All you need to do is scrape a pass,” Kev said, putting down his pencil and picking up another textbook. “I know you’ve got a pass in you, Aoif. You can do this.”
“What if I don’t?”
“You think this year is tough, trying to get through sixth year while pregnant?” he said, trying to sound tough. “Imagine how hard it will be to go back to BCS and repeat next year with a baby on your hip.” He narrowed his eyes. “Everyone in our year will have moved on to college and work. Even your boyfriend’s dopey sidekicks have snagged J-1 visas for the States this summer. They won’t be around to support you if you flunk out and have to repeat sixth year.”
That was true.
As soon as the exams were over, Podge and Alec, along with a bunch of others from our year, were heading to America for the summer, and I didn’t blame them one bit.
It was the opportunity of a lifetime.
Aside from me, the only other person in my circle with no plans to leave Ballylaggin for travel or college was Casey—though she had a two-week bender planned for Benidorm in late July.
“I’m not going back either way,” I told Kev. “Even if I fail, I’m not going back to BCS to repeat sixth year. I’ll apply for hairdressing at the PLC college in the city and hope for the best.”
“And if you don’t get into the course? What then? You’re going to raise a kid on a barmaid’s wage? You’re not flaking out without an education, Aoif,” he growled. “I won’t let you.”
“It’s not up to you, Kev.”
“Well, I know Mam and Dad won’t let you either,” he argued. “So you need to pass these exams. If you don’t want to do it for yourself, then do it for the baby.”
That stung.
Everything I was doing was for the baby.
