"How did it go?"
Callan shrugs. "He’s angry. I knew he wouldn't be happy, but I hoped he wouldn’t be pissed."
"What did he say?" I find myself moving closer to him. The urge to embrace him is rising within me, but I doubt it's an appropriate moment.
"Not to bother going back. He said it was bad enough that I’d taken a week off without warning but to then hand my notice in—” He shakes his head. "He'll get the electrician covering me this week to finish the job, and then he'll look for someone more permanent."
"Can he do that?"
"No clue. But I don't have the energy to fight it. Besides, I need to be here. I guess he's doing me a favour."
"Is he going to pay you?"
Callan shakes his head. "Only for the work that I've done. If I'm lucky, he'll pay me for this week. I need to ring my landlord next. I have to give a month's notice."
"If you need help…"
Callan smiles. "I'll need to go back at some point to pack up my stuff. I’ll have to tell Mam and Dad that I’m moving. They won’t be happy."
"You're a grown man."
Callan looks me in the eyes. “I can barely care for myself, let alone a baby."
“Maybe that was true at one point, but you're sober now. You've been holding a job, paying rent, and living alone. I don't think anyone can say you can't take care of yourself."
“Mam and Dad worry about me. They’ve got every reason to. I put them through hell for years. I don't blame them for thinking I'm going to fall off the wagon at any moment."
The pain in Callan’s voice makes me feel sick. I try to put myself in his parents’ place, but I find it hard to doubt him. It would probably be different if I’d been by his side these past seventeen years. If I’d watched as the happy, bright-eyed boy I’d grown up with had vanished. If I’d seen him slip away, bit by bit, as drinking had taken over his life. I’ve only seen the before and after. I can’t possibly understand what he and his parents went through. But it hurts to think he doesn’t believe in himself. The man before me is strong. I know he can handle moving and helping Niamh with the baby.
"If it helps, tell them you're staying with me, at least for a while."
"I-I think that will help. They always liked you. They thought very highly of you."
"Even though I was the one who got you into trouble more often than not?"
Callan laughs. "I don't think they realised that. When we got into trouble, I tended to take the blame. They thought I was the wild child and you were a good influence."
"I'm not sure they knew me."
Callan's features soften. "I think they did. You were a good influence. I think you'll be a good one again."
"What makes you say that?"
"You make me braver."
I blink, unsure what to say to that. “You are brave.” My voice cracks. “You’re one of the bravest people I know.”
“I’m not, Rory. I’m a coward who buried his pain in a whiskey bottle. I couldn’t face it. Couldn’t stand to talk about it.”
“Can you now?”
“To my counsellor, aye, but it took years to get to this point.”
“But you got here,” I say. “Don’t devalue all the progress you’ve made by focusing on the mistakes you made in the past. You. Are. Brave.”
His eyes sparkle. “Thanks, Rory. If you keep saying it, I might just believe it.”
“You’re brave.”
