SKYFALL, Johnny Kavanagh

A mother's love

Maeve's Point of View

I woke up at 5 a.m. and, knowing the chances of falling asleep again were slim, I decided to start getting ready for school.

As soon as I managed to throw myself out of bed, I showered, changed the bandages and got started on the make-up.
About half an hour later, I was done.
Like it never happened.

I knew everyone in the house would be asleep, so I took the rare chance to go downstairs and try and have some sort of peaceful breakfast.

Apparently, the universe had it against me these days since once I opened the door, I found my aunt sitting at the kitchen table, holding a cup of steaming hot tea.
She looked surprised to see me, like she hadn't woken up early just to talk me – well, threaten me – into silence.
She shouldn't have bothered.
I knew the drill.

She looked at my face and then turned away. "Good morning, Maeve."

"Good morning." I replied hesitantly.

"You're wearing a lot of make-up today." She started.

I didn't answer.
She knew why I was wearing it.
She knew what her husband had done to me on Monday.
She just didn't care.
She never did.

My aunt and I had never seen eye to eye ever since I was little.
She had disliked my mother and now disliked me.
It was clear she didn't see me as part of her family.

Still, I had some fond memories of her when I was young.
Of times when I believed she loved me just as much as her children, like when she braided my hair before school.
Times when Darren was still around and she would bring us all to the park together.
Before she became absent.
Mentally checked out.

The truth was, Marie was broken.
He had broken her years ago.

But I still couldn't help but hate her.

She was the grown up.
She was supposed to protect her children.
A selfish part of me once hoped she'd protect me too.
Instead she watched as her husband slowly shattered her children.

"Sit, I made you breakfast." she gestured towards a bowl of milk with a few scones near it.

There it was.
A gift – a bribe – to try and make me shut up.

"I'm not hungry." I told her truthfully.
Any appetite I had, left the moment I had seen her.

She set her cup down and started talking again. "You know how he gets when he's drunk. It's not his fault, Maeve. You have to understand."

"Understand?" I laughed bitterly. "Not his fault?"

"I'm not saying it's okay. Teddy, he has a lot on his shoulders. It's not easy for him." She continued blind to the storm of emotions raging inside me. "But... you know how he is. He doesn't mean to. It's just... sometimes things get out of hand."

"And I suppose it's my fault, right? For provoking him, for going out, for daring to try and live like a normal teenager." I shot back with venom. "I suppose it's my fault he held me down and-"
In that moment, I realised.
I didn't care anymore.
Chances were, I wasn't going to make it to eighteen.
It didn't take a genius to realise my uncle had it against me, even more so than his own children.
I didn't doubt there could be a day in the future where he finally reached his breaking point with me, what hadn't occurred to me was the fact that it might happen now.
So why waste even a second of that time talking to a woman willing to sacrifice her children to keep her husband happy?

"Why do you always defend him?" I asked, because I wanted to know.

"I'm trying to keep this family together," Marie replied, her voice tight with defensiveness. "You think I like it? You think this is easy for me?" Her words came faster now, like she was trying to convince herself more than me. "I work all day, every day, to provide for you. For all of us."

"For him." I corrected. "He's the one that blows all your money away on alcohol and whores. We live on Joey's salary and sometimes we go hungry, because we have no money and nothing to eat."

"Joey." She sighed. "He's just like his father."

That shocked me.
Is that what she believed?
Joey, caring, protective Joey was just like her monster of a husband?
Joey who had shielded her – us from his rage countless times throughout the years.

"What the hell did you just say? Do you even hear yourself?" I shouted at her not caring of the consequences. "You treat Joey like dirt." I said, my voice rising. "You blame him for everything, just because he reminds you of Teddy."

Her eyes flashed. "He is like Teddy," she snapped, her composure slipping. "Every time I look at him, I see his father. That same look in his eyes, that same anger. It's like he was born with it."

I shook my head, disgust curling in my stomach. "Joey isn't like him. He's not a monster."

"He's not now." she admitted, her voice lowering. "But it's in him, Maeve. You've seen it. You've seen what he's capable of when he loses control."

I clenched my fists, fighting the urge to lash out. "Joey's nothing like him," I repeated, my voice steady, though I felt anything but calm. "He's been fighting against everything Teddy has done to him, and you—you just push him further away."

Marie looked away again, her face pale and drawn. "You don't understand," she whispered. "You don't know what it's like to live with that kind of anger in your house. To see it every day and wonder when it's going to explode."

I stared at her. "I don't? Have I not lived here with you every day for the last seven years?"

"I know you think I don't care." She said, her voice soft now, almost pleading. "But I'm trying, Maeve. I really am. If I could change things, I would. But... this is all we've got."

"You could change things." I pleaded with her. "You could take Shannon and the boys and just leave."

"I can't leave him." She looked at me like she wanted to me understand.
But I couldn't.
I never would.

"I'm doing the best I can." She continued.

"You're doing the bare minimum." I bit back.

She just sighed and looked at me. "You don't understand, Maeve."

"I understand more than you think." I raged. "I understand you're just as much to blame as he is."

I took my coat from the coatrack and headed out.
There was no point in arguing with her anymore.
She'd never change.
Not for me, not for Joey, not for anyone.

"Where are you going?" She asked. "The bus isn't coming for another hour."

"I'm walking." I said. "I need some air."

She looked shaken before saying. "Take the scones with you, just so you have something to eat later."

I didn't reply.
I didn't want to calm her down, to accept her bribery.
I just pulled the door open and stepped out into the early morning chill, letting the cold air slap me awake.
It was better than staying in that kitchen, suffocating under her lies and excuses.
Better than staying trapped in that house.

I walked until the bus stop, sat down on the bench and took a deep breath to try and clear my mind.

I pulled out my phone and texted Gibsie.

Main hoe
I'm coming back to school today.

I stared at my phone a moment longer, waiting for a reply and when it didn't come I shut it off and waited for the bus.

Just because I felt like rubbing salt in the wound, I once again checked Johnny's contact.

Boy wonder
No new messages.

Yeah, well.
Fuck you too, Kavanagh.