Secrets And Styes

Chapter 25: The Father

A gentle tap at the door, "Who is it?" I asked, trying and failing to

dry my trouser leg.

"It's me, Maria; who're you talking to?" Searching for an excuse,

she tapped the door again before I had time to find one, "I've got some

clean trousers; Dermot said you wet yourself."

I opened the door a fraction and stuck my hand out.

"Will you come out and talk to me when you've cleaned yourself

up? I've missed you."

"Alright, see you in a minute," I said, hurriedly changing into the

dry trousers.

......

Maria was sitting at the dressing table brushing her hair. I sat on the

bed, trying to get furtive glances at the stye. It looked no better, but I

took small comfort that it looked no worse. "I thought you'd grown out

of wetting yourself after you did it at school when Mam went into to

talk to your teacher. Why couldn't you hold it in this time? Were you

nervous of something?" she asked.

Her question transported me back to a shameful experience in the

school gymnasium. Standing in the queue for the vault-horse in my vest

and underpants with my peers. The boys before me all rushed toward

the vault with a competitive push, clearing the beast with effortless

athleticism. My anxiety grew with every cheer and applause for another

boy's perfect performance. When my turn came, I had neither focus nor

physical push; instead, I stood, rooted to the spot. There came a gentle

nudge from the boy behind me, "Hurry up, I want my turn." But instead

of pushing myself forward – I pissed myself.

The boy behind me jumped the queue to avoid my nerve-induced

torrent, which bounced off the gym floor and pooled outwards, "Eurgh,

Miss, Gerard Smith's weeing!" he exclaimed. I stood in my pissy pool,

the growing sniggers of my classmates worsening my embarrassment.

That incident had prompted the teacher to call in my mother to

ensure all was okay at home. So, with an enthusiastic push, I rushed to

put everyone right on this none peeing incident.

......

I grabbed the pistol and rushed back into the bedroom, holding it

aloft proudly. "I didn't wet myself; I bought this water pistol, and it

went off in my pocket when I was walking home. I didn't notice it

leaking," I said, happy I wouldn't have to experience the judgement the

gym incident engendered.

Maria smiled wide, "Aww, that's so funny," she said, taking the gun

from me. She looked at it, her fingers caressing its contours, "Why did