*****
When we return to the table, I opt for coffee. By the time it arrives a couple minutes later, I’ve decided to take Kieran up on his offer of a beer, since Mr. O’Malley didn’t waste any time launching into a speech about how Kieran should return to Ireland and work for him.
Kieran and his mother wear matching glassy eyes as his dad drones on about ‘family responsibilities’ and ‘being a man’ and ‘taking your rightful place’. I mostly tune out when our food arrives, concentrating instead on my fish and chips. When Kieran steals a fry from my plate, I help myself to a bite of his steak and Guinness pie. Before long, we’re eating off each other’s plates, completely lost in our own little world of carbs and gravy and pints of beer.
“Are you even listening to me, boy?” Mr. O’Malley’s fist thumps the table, rattling our dishes and silverware. Kieran’s eyes go wide and his shoulders hunch as he slides down in his seat, casting a furtive glance around us. Luckily, I suggested an early dinner, so the place isn’t too busy yet, but I can feel eyes on us nonetheless.
“Eamon,” Maeve hisses, mimicking Kieran’s posture and slinking down in her seat. Any second now they’re both going to slide right under the table.
Mr. O’Malley waves his hand dismissively and says, “Quit your blathering and drink your wine.”
I gasp. My hand flies up to cover my mouth, but it’s too late, the sound has escaped. From the corner of my eye, I see Mr. O’Malley slowly turn toward me. My gaze darts to Kieran. His cartoonishly wide eyes make a bubble of hysterical laughter inch up my throat. That’s when it hits me: we’re both on our way to being tipsy.Shit.
“Do you have something to say, young lady?” Mr. O’Malley asks.
His voice is menacing, but I’m not afraid. Something has become very clear to me in the last few minutes: Eamon O’Malley thrives off people’s fear. Their insecurities. Their weaknesses. And I may not be at my strongest right now, I may have moments where I feel like the lightest puff of air would make me shatter, but my mother didn’t raise a timid daughter.
So I draw myself up, take a deep breath, and inch my chair to the side so I can face Mr. O’Malley without him being in my personal space. “You know, my mother taught me to respect my elders.Butshe also taught me respect should be earned, andyou…you don’t deserve my respect. Or your son’s for that matter, but I can’t speak for him. What Icansay is Kieran is a strong, smart, kind, compassionate persondespiteyou. He’s learned to make his own decisions and follow his own path in life instead of allowing a bully like you to run his life. Because that’s what you are, Mr. O’Malley: a bully.”
I don’t know what I expect. For him to go on the attack. To call me names or turn his ire on Kieran or maybe dismiss me altogether. I sure as hell don’t expect him to suddenly see the error of his ways after nearly thirty years of treating his son like shit. But what I never expected was for him to start laughing. Head back, mouth open, belly laughing until actual tears or mirth collect in the corners of his eyes.
I look to Kieran, whose perplexed expression likely mirrors my own. His mother, on the other hand, is watching her husband with a wary expression, like maybe she’s seen this behavior before and knows nothing good will come of it.
When Mr. O’Malley finally regains control, he inches his chair back toward the table and returns to his dinner. Kieran, Maeve, and I are finished eating, but he was slower because he talked almost non-stop. “You’re a feisty one, aren’t you?” he asks around a mouthful of food. “I can see why my son likes you.” He looks at Kieran while pointing his fork in my direction. “Hold on to this one, boy. The feistier they are, the better they—”
“Stop.” Kieran’s voice is low but firm. “Just stop. Meredith is right about you not deserving respect.” He stands, motioning for me to do the same. Maeve scrambles to her feet, despite her husband’s barked orders for her to sit down. Kieran puts his arm around her and draws her away from the table, shooting me a glance that tells me to follow. Despite my beer-hazy brain, I have the wherewithal to snatch my purse from the floor before hurrying after Kieran.
“I need to go now, Mum,” I hear him say quietly as he guides her away, his hand gripping her bony shoulder tightly. “I’m sorry things turned out this way. I wish there was something I could do.”
She shakes her head, tears splashing down her cheeks. “It’s fine, it’s fine, you go. I want you to stay here in Bellevue, Kieran. Finish your schooling and stay as far away from your father and his business as you can, no matter what he says.”
Her words seem to stun Kieran into silence. I feel like I’m intruding on a private mother-son moment, so I begin to inch away, but Maeve pins me with her gaze.
“I mean it,” she says, turning back to Kieran. “You’re destined for great things. I always thought so. You’re not like the rest of us. You’ve a mind of your own and you never allowed yourself to be under his thumb. I want you to know how proud I am of you.”
“Even though you’re stuck?” Kieran asks, gripping her shoulder tighter. “Stuck withhim?”
She shrugs helplessly. “I made my decision long ago, Kieran, and now I’ve no choice but to live with it. But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t liveyourlife. Please. Don’t do it for me, don’t even do it as a ‘feck you’ to your father. Do it for yourself.”
Kieran is silent for a moment. I’m standing slightly behind him, so I can’t see his face, but when his shoulders start to shake, my stomach clenches. Seeing Maeve cry is bad enough; I’m not sure I can handle tears from Kieran too. A second later, his quiet laughter reaches my ears, and he says, “You just said ‘feck you’.”
Maeve swats at his shoulder, but she’s wearing a smile now, albeit a bittersweet one. “Go. Be gone with you, both of you. You be good to each other, you hear me?” To me she says, “Take care of my boy, Meredith. You’re good for him, and I know he’ll be good to andforyou.”
My breath catches at her words. How do I respond to that? I’ve always believed in not making promises unless I’m certain I can keep them, and I can’t promise to take care of Kieran. And yet the thought of disappointing her, especially now, is almost unbearable.
Rather than answering, I step forward and slide between her and Kieran to give her a tight hug. “You take care ofyourself. I’m so glad I got to meet you.”
When I step away, Kieran gives his mother a long hug followed by a quick goodbye. Without so much as casting a glance in his father’s direction, he takes my hand and leads me out of Connelly’s.
