“Where in the name of God have you been?” Mam demanded when I walked into the kitchen after school. “You didn’t leave a note to say where you were going. You didn’t take your phone with you. I couldn’t call you; I couldn’t text you, nothing! I have been going out of my mind with worry!” Slamming the roast chicken she was taking out of the oven onto the kitchen island, she turned to glare at me. “Thank God for Edel Kavanagh letting me know that you were staying over at her house, because my next port of call was the Garda station.”
“My sincerest apologies, Mother,” I drawled, dropping both my school bag and gear bag in the corner before making a beeline for the fridge, dutifully ignoring the evil cat sitting on top of the kitchen table. “It’s dreadful when your family member doesn’t tell you shit.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me,” I replied, grabbing the carton of orange juice and closing the fridge.
“Gerard Joseph Gibson,” Mam snapped, hands on her hips. “Don’t speak to me like that.”
Rolling my eyes, I unscrewed the cap and drank straight from the carton, my own personal non-verbal fuck you when I would never speak the words aloud.
“I saw the condition of your room,” she continued, using a tea towel to wipe a dribble of chicken grease from the counter. “Your behavior last night was completely out of order.”
“And your behavior when you didn’t give me a heads-up about that prick rocking back into town wasn’t?” I snapped, slamming the carton down on the counter. “Come on, Mam, what’s good for the goose is good for the gander.”
“So, because I wanted to surprise you, you decide to punish me by leaving the house and not telling me where you are? You are seventeen years old, Gerard, and until you turn eighteen next February, you are on my time, and that means no overnight trips without a phone call!”
“Punish you?” I gaped at her. “Mam, I walked through the front door last night and was blindsided!”
“Mark is family, Gerard,” Mam exclaimed, throwing her hands up. “You should be happy to see him. And Keith! He made reservations for the four of us at Spizzicos to celebrate.” Mam glared. “Some fecking celebration it was when you refused to break bread with your brother and then stormed off for the night.”
“I should be happy?” I gaped at the woman like she had just spurted a second head. “Are you fucking with me? Mam, you know how I feel about him!” I practically roared, body trembling. “And please don’t label that piece of shit as my family. You might consider him to be yours but I sure as hell don’t consider him to be mine!”
“Is this because of the Young family?” she demanded. “Because of Lizzie? Do you plan to spend the rest of your life holding a grudge against Mark for something he didn’t do?”
“It’s not that he didn’t do it, Mam, it’s that they couldn’t prove it,” I spat back. “And you know damn well she’s not my friend anymore,” I added, feeling my chest heave from the pressure it was taking to breathe through this conversation. “Your perfect stepson took care of that.”
“Gerard, he didn’t do it,” Mam stressed, trying a different approach by closing the space between us and placing her hands on my chest. “I promise you, from the bottom of my heart, your stepbrother never harmed Caoimhe Young.”
My blood ran cold, and my entire body trembled. “Oh, you promise, do you?”
“Yes,” she urged, nodding her head eagerly. “It was a vicious, nasty rumor spread by people who took the word of a grieving woman who misunderstood her child’s suicide note.”
“You don’t know that, Mam,” I choked out, trembling. “You can’t know that.”
“I do know that, Gerard,” she tried to soothe, as she reached up and stroked my face. “I do, love. Mark was completely innocent. The Gardaí proved that. And before you say anything else, I saw a copy of the note Caoimhe left her mother. I read the words. Catherine Young was mistaken, love. There was no rape to her daughter.” Tears filled her eyes when she cupped my cheeks in her hands and offered me a watery smile. “Not only is Mark innocent, but he’s family, love, and we look after our own.”
“So, that’s it?” I deadpanned. “According to you, Mark’s innocent, the Young family is mistaken, and that’s all there is to it?”
“Yes, love.” With a nod of affirmation, Mam stroked my cheek once more before returning to her roast chicken. “That’s all there is to it.”
Motionless, I stood in the kitchen, watching as my mother tended to her roast chicken, and I never felt less hungry.
“So, you’ve never doubted him?” I challenged. “You’re not even willing to consider that you might be wrong?”
“No.”
“No?” I shook my head in disgust. “No to which question?”
“No, I’ve never doubted Mark,” she replied firmly. “And no, I’m not willing to consider I might be wrong because I’m not wrong.”
Well, then.
“I’m not doing it,” I heard myself say, body rigid. “Playing happy families with him?” I shook my head. “I won’t do it, Mam.”
“Gerard … ”
Shaking my head again, I turned on my heels and walked out of the kitchen, both unwilling and unable to continue this conversation.
There was no point because we were never going to agree on this.
Because my mother was unwilling to entertain a different scenario.
She wasn’t willing to believe the truth.
