I had always considered myself to be a strong girl, but right now, as I tried to look at myself in the mirror with my head held high, I never felt like such a fake.
So weak.
So small.
So fucking uncertain.
“With Jay-Z and Beyonce’s ‘03’ Bonnie & Clyde’ blasting from the car stereo, a fitting song given the circumstances, I held on for dear life to the dashboard, as the wild and reckless boy in the driver’s seat blew my mind.”
december 23rd 2003.
Settling him back into the crook of my arm, I placed the teat of the bottle I had prepped to his lips and smirked when he sought it out, lips smacking wildly.
“Good job,” I whispered, snuggling him in close. “Get your chops around that.”
“Don’t be joining any convents on me now, ya hear?” Joey said, swinging his leg over the ledge. “Contrary to your ex’s predictions, I’m not quite ready to sack you off yet.”
“Ha-ha-ha,” I deadpanned. “Funny.”
“I’ll be seeing ya, Molloy,” he added with a cheeky wink.”
She watched me and I watched her right back. I wanted to be closer to her than my own skin. The connection I felt to her was overwhelming when I was high but now that I was sober, it was so strong that I could hardly stand it.
Tracy Chapman’s Fast Car filled my ears and fuck if it didn’t pour salt in my already gaping wounds. Like always, she reached under the desk and took my hand in hers, but when I entwined our fingers and squeezed back, she turned in surprise to look at me. “Hey, stud.”
“What a good lad.” Dad beamed at my mother. “Defending my daughter’s honor.”
“Yeah,” I squeezed out, as the image of Joey’s head between my legs filled my mind. “My honor’s restored.”
Johnny Kavanagh was standing here, in the middle of all of my family’s bullshit, and he wasn’t running.
Something about him reminded me of Molloy and I frowned.