JOEY
“THANK CHRIST, YOU’RE HERE.” My father greeted me in the hospital corridor.
He was holding a folder overflowing with paperwork in one hand and a plastic bag with what I presumed contained my mother’s clothes in the other, as he closed the space between us.
“I can’t deal with her, Joey, son. I can’t.” He clamped his hand down on my shoulder in a move that I could only presume was a show of relief at my presence, but only made me want to peel the skin from my bones. “I know that she’s upset, but all that crying and carrying on isn’t right.”
“Yeah, well, suck it the fuck up,” I snapped, roughly shrugging his hand off. “Because you’re the one that got her pregnant. She’s your responsibility, Dad. She’s in this position because of you, so man the hell up and take care of her.”
“Don’t get lippy with me, boy,” he warned, tone taking on a menacing lilt. He gave me a look that said you’ll pay for speaking to me like that, but I honestly didn’t care. “It’s easy for you to judge when you don’t know what I’ve been dealing with here.”
“I don’t care what you’ve been dealing with,” I spat, reluctantly following him down the corridor until he stopped outside of a closed door. “Is she in there?”
He nodded. “I’ll let you to it. I’ve a few things that need sorting.” Meaning, there was a bar stool waiting for him at his local.
“Fine.” I jutted my chin out, unwilling to beg the bastard not to leave me to clean up his mess. Again. “Do whatever you want.”
And then he was gone, and I was left alone, staring at a closed door.
A million different emotions rose up inside of me as I battled to steel my nerves and keep my head.
I didn’t want to be here.
I didn’t want to see what I knew I would see the minute I opened the door I was hovering behind and stepped inside her room.
Inside her turmoil.
Get a fucking handle on yourself, asshole.
With my hood up, and my hands shaking, I forced myself to reach out and knock lightly before opening the door and walking inside.
A pale blue curtain draped around the bed was the first thing my eyes took in, while my ears were immediately assaulted by the sound of low, almost feral keening.
It was a sound that I’d never heard before and never wanted to hear again. It was the sound of a woman’s heart breaking.
“Mam?”
The crying stopped for a brief moment, and I heard her drag in several gasps of air before she croaked out, “Joey?”
“Yeah.” I nodded, trembling. “It’s me, Mam.” “Joey,” she cried out hoarsely. “My Joey?”
“Yeah, Mam,” I replied, clearing my throat. “Can I open the curtain and
see ya?”
A few moments later, the curtain was pulled back, and I was greeted by the sight of my mother’s tear-stained face, as she staggered off the bed and collapsed in my arms. “Joey!”
“Shh, it’s okay,” I coaxed, catching her before she could hit the ground. “I’m here.”
“He died,” she wailed, fingers knotting in the front of my hoodie, as she clung to me, body limp and racked with grief. “The baby died, and they took him away. They took him, Joey. They took him away from me.”
“I know, Mam,” I strangled out, helping her back to the bed.
“He was so small,” she cried, refusing to let go of my hoodie, as I stood helplessly in front of her, my hands hanging by my sides, as she took from me whatever she needed in this moment. “Twenty-one weeks,” she continued to wail. “He was so tiny.”
I couldn’t tell her that I knew how she felt or understood her pain, so I just stood there, feeling useless and on edge.
“He’s gone now,” she said through her tears. “Your father let them take him.”
“Take him where?” I forced myself to ask.
“Away,” she wailed, crying into my chest. “They’ll bury him in the hospital’s angel remembrance garden.”
“Is that what you want?”
“I don’t know,” she sobbed. “Your father said that’s what’s best.” I had nothing to say to that.
She released a shuddering breath before whispering, “Shannon. The boys.
Are they okay?”
“They’re grand,” I was quick to soothe. “They’re all grand, Mam.”
“And you’re here,” she said weakly, still clutching me. “How are you here?”
“Dad phoned,” I explained, slowly peeling her hands off my hoodie and taking a seat beside her on the bed. “He asked me to come and see you.”
“He did?”
I nodded slowly. “Yeah, he did.” “Where’s your father now?”
The pub, probably. “He had to leave.” I inhaled a deep breath before adding, “Dad says the doctors have discharged you, Mam. I’m here to take you home.”
“No, no, no.” Her eyes widened with fear. “I can’t leave him here. He doesn’t even have a name! Just baby boy Lynch. That’s what they called him.”
“Mam,” I sighed, trying and failing to come up with the right thing to say. I could hardly tell her that she had to. “You can’t stay here,” I settled on. “The boys need you at home with them.”
“I don’t want to,” she wailed, dropping her head in her hands, and reminding me of a child trapped in a woman’s body. “Please don’t make me.”
“I’m not going to make you do anything,” I coaxed, eyeing the small pill dispenser on her tray, containing what I instantly knew was a fucking fabulous combination of valium and diamorphine. “Is this for you?” I asked, reaching for the tiny plastic dispenser with shaky hands. “Are you meant to take these, Mam?”
She nodded weakly. “But I get so sleepy.”
“That’s the point.” I thrust the pills into her hand and then placed the small Styrofoam cup filled with water in the other. “Swallow them down and it’ll take the edge off.”
“Joey, I don’t –”
“Take them or I will,” I cut her off and warned. “And then we’ll both be fucked.”
Sniffling, she gave me a pained look before popping the pills into her mouth and flushing them down with a gulp of water.
A mixture of devastation and relief flooded me and I sagged forward. “Good girl.”
“I want to see him one more time,” she whispered, sagging heavily against my body. “Before we go.”
“Okay,” I replied, reluctantly slipping an arm around her frail shoulders. “I’m sure one of the midwives can organize that for you.”
“Will you stay with me when they bring him back?” I stiffened.
“Please, Joey,” she sniffled. “Don’t leave me alone.”
“Fine,” I choked out a resigned sigh. “I’ll stay with you, Mam.”
