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Ch. 13

Nothing is simple, everything is marred. I can't pinpoint the day that innocence left my life. It melted down before boiling and evaporating to nothing. I think there are a few drops left, some residue left in the pan. But it takes elbow grease to dredge it up. Only to worry that someone will use the last of that too.

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Why can't I see how pointless this is?
Why can't I accept that I might not be his?

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So I knew planning weddings was difficult. Always have. But a fake wedding? With a crazy brother? All on top of semi-avoiding Lip? Not as easy as it sounds.

And the inheritance V got from her Dad for the marriage? Five hundred bucks.

Fiona was fussing over Carl again, apparently he had been acting up again. Hitting kids at school, that's when I knew it was time for he and I to have a talk.

"Hey kid." I said walking up to him.

"Lyd." He said, he sounded kinda ticked but I guess Fi had tried to talk to him before I had. I walked into the bedroom and sat on Ian's bed.

"Heard you beat on a few kids."

"So?"

"So what did they do?" I asked.

"I hit them okay? There was—"

"I didn't ask what you did," I started, cutting him off. "I asked what they did." He looked at his hands like he didn't know what to do with them.

"Nothing."

"Bullshit." He looked up at me quick. We sat in silence for a minute, eyeing each other.

"What did they do?" He was quiet for a long time, almost too long. Before he started to talk quietly.

"They called us orphans. Said that no one wanted us."

"They're wrong."

"Are they?" He looked tearful. It was interesting, the way Carl showed emotion. He either played like he didn't have any, or let them all show.

"They're wrong." I said again nodding. "You know that everyone in this house loves you. Fiona, Lip, Ian, Debbie, Liam... me. We all love you. And want you. So what if they think the only thing someone needs is to be wanted by their parents. If they actually thought about it they'd realize that their parents don't want them either." He sat on his bed looking at his hands.

"Hey," I said. "Look at me."

He slowly lifted his head.

"No one, no one, has the right to tell you that you aren't loved. But you have to quit beating the shit out of them. It lets them know that you give a fuck about what they're saying. You wanna seem like you don't give a fuck?" He nodded. "Then don't give in." I stood from Ian's bed.

"Did you get in any good hits?"

He smiled a huge smile.

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The home called again, she was dying. She wanted to see me. To say I was shocked was an understatement. Soon enough I was standing in front of what I call hell now. She was here, my personal devil. Ready to strike pain or incite confusion, and I wasn't ready.

So I grit my teeth and walked in anyway.

"I'm here for Mrs. Walsh, my mother."

"Oh dear, I am so sorry to hear how badly she is doing. It's a miracle that she's lasted this long," the insipid woman behind the counter said. "She's been such a joy to have here." I scoffed internally. She never really was a joy now that I thought about it. Passive politeness, jarring statements said in anger or indifference, and the horrible stiffness of her dismissive moods. But maybe those were only directed at me.