Hughie looks contemplative. “No, I’m pretty sure that’s just women.”
I laugh. “Hughie, you seem like you’re a bit older than ten.”
Hughie shrugs. “People say I have an old soul, whatever that means. I think I’m just around adults a lot.”
Shouting erupts in the street. I recognize Niall’s voice immediately, the woman’s voice not so much.
“That’s just Uncle Niall and Irene. My grandmom. She brings me here when she doesn’t want to deal with me anymore.”
“That’s an awful thing to say, Hughie. I’m sure that’s not true.”
Hughie shakes his head, chewing through his last bite. “No, I’ve heard it a bunch of times. I heard her say it to Uncle Niall this morning when the door was closing.”
The kid’s smiling, definitely more than I would be if I had heard something that devastating.
“Do you come to Uncle Niall’s often?”
“Sometimes,” Hughie says, swirling his spoon in the bowl. “Usually after a couple of days at Grandmom’s. It usually happens when Mum can’t be found. Or if she goes to, erm…what’s it called when people go to the hospital for drugs.”
Oh god, this poor child. I feel my heart literally breaking for him. “Rehab,” I manage to choke out.
He smiles. “That’s it!” He seems to clock the look on my face. “It’s fine. I used to get sad about it the first few times, but then I started coming to Uncle Niall’s more and he’s more fun. He gives me all these books and lets me play Nintendo Switch, and takes me to yummy restaurants.”
While my heart is still breaking for Hughie, it warms for Niall. More than I think it already was, to see how he steps up and tries to give this kid the life he deserves. I won’t ask Hughie where he normally lives, because I’m not sure I can hear any more devastating words come out of his mouth.
It also dawns on me that I think there’s a second bedroom in this flat, right across the hall from Niall’s. And, every time I’ve been here, that door has been shut. If my intuition is right, it’s Hughie’s room. I see a large duffle bag by the door, covered in Super Mario characters.
“Do you want to put your stuff away and show me your room?”
Hughie’s face lights up. “Yes! But we need to clean up first.” He grabs my empty cereal bowl and his, taking them to the sink. “Can you reach the soap? It’s in the top cabinet.”
I follow his gaze, opening it and finding the bottle of dish soap. “I can take care of this later Hughie.”
“No. It’s my job when I’m here at Uncle Niall’s. I help with the dishes in exchange for books.”
It takes him only a few moments to wash out both bowls. I grab his bag before he leads me down the hall, opening the door to his room.
A true child’s room, definitely one you wouldn’t expect in just an uncle’s house. The room is decked out in Marvel superheroes and Super Mario characters, bookshelves absolutely stuffed with books. In addition to the bed there are two bean bag chairs that face a television the size I would have died to have in my own room at his age. Hell, I think it’s bigger than the one in my bedroom right now back home.
I drop the bag on the bed and he unzips it, pulling out a bunch of clothes and a few notepads and some pens. I notice Stories written on the notebook on top.
“You write stories?” I ask, holding up the notebook. Hughie takes it from my hand, putting it on a little desk in the corner.
“Yes, but only I can read them. For now.”
I laugh. “I’m the same way. I write too, and it takes me awhile to share them with people.”
Hughie continues to pile his clothes into drawers, many of which are already full with clothes. “Is that what you teach?”
Seems like Niall told him a bit about why I was here. “No, not writing. I teach about other author’s books.”
“Cool. Grandmom writes books. Maybe you teach some of hers?”
The innocence of children. In this day and age, with self-publishing being so available, the number of authors has exploded and almost everyone knows someone who’s written a book. Hell, some of the best books I’ve read are from local authors who went the self-publishing route. Book publishing in the traditional market is near impossible these days to break into. You almost need to know someone to get an in.
“Maybe, Hughie. What’s Grandmom’s name?”
“Irene McAllister.”
