Needing 13 - Johnny Kavanagh

MEET YOU AT THE GRAVEYARD

JANUARY 4TH 2005

TARA

When it rains, it fucking pours.

This last week had been a complete fucking shit show.

December 23rd—Mam was pregnant again. Fucking perfect. Another child they weren't going to take care of. At this rate, we were going to be a bargain-bin version of the von Trapp family from The Sound of Music. Only instead of a musical, it was shaping up to be a horror movie that would make Alfred Hitchcock proud.

If I had the energy, I'd write to Stephen King and suggest he put his successful career on hold to write a novel about us. Hell, with the kind of shitshow we had, we wouldn't just get a novel; we'd get a whole fucking series. And you know what? I bet we'd break sales records. The world loves a good tragedy, after all, and we had tragedy in fucking spades.

December 24th—I had managed to get Da out of the house. I handed him about £1000, enough to keep him occupied with booze and women, in exchange for his promise to stay away from the house. I wanted Mam and my siblings to have a quiet, bruise-free Christmas.

I had also spent the morning cooking, determined to create a half-decent Christmas Eve dinner for them. I bought chicken and various other ingredients, hoping to bring some semblance of holiday spirit to our fractured home. With a little help from Nanny, I managed to get everything ready.

Mam, of course, showed zero appreciation. Instead, she asked me not to turn up for dinner. Any other time, I would have objected, fought with her even, but I was so fucking tired.

Tired of this house

Tired of her constant disapproval

Tired of my life

Tired of myself.

So, I agreed. I was done ruining Christmas for Joey, Shannon, Tadhg, Ollie, and Sean, which was bound to happen if I decided to sit my bleeding arse at the table tonight. My presence was a catalyst for conflict, and they deserved at least one peaceful night.

Merry fucking Christmas, Mam.

Of course, I had also paid off my dad's debts. I knew Mam had used some of the money Joey had given her to try to cover them, leaving nothing for decent presents for my siblings. So, with a little help from Malachy and Ciaran, I had managed to buy things that I knew my siblings would be excited to get for Christmas: a car for Joey, Tommen College for Shannon, new hurling gear for Tadhg, Legos for Ollie, and a Bob the Builder stuffed toy for Sean.

I hadn't forgotten Mam, despite everything. I bought her a present because, as much as she made my life hell, I wasn't completely devoid of compassion. I got her a pair of new, comfy clogs, some makeup to help cover up her bruises and a little extra pocket money. I knew exactly where that money would end up, but beggars can't be choosers, and at least I was trying.

As if all that wasn't enough, Aoife had called me in tears. She'd found my brother at Holland's, slumped on a filthy, piss-soaked mattress with a needle in his arm, unconscious. I sorted it out, told Ciaran and Malachy to pay him a visit as my Christmas present. Apparently, that low-level drug-dealing bastard had decided to ignore my warnings. It was time he learned what happened when you fucked with my family.

December 28th – Joey had not stopped throwing up.The relentless cycle of nausea and heaving had taken its toll, leaving him weak and pale. The withdrawal symptoms from his recent cessation of drugs were hitting him hard. His body was waging a war against itself, convulsing and rejecting everything.