Ian (O'Connor Brothers #1)

by A. S. Kelly

  Here it is, my first heart attack at thirty years old.

  The end of my career.

  “We’d better get out of here before she starts taking Jake seriously. Another pass at my sister in front of me or behind my back, and I’ll skin you, is that clear?” Jamie isn’t joking around. “I promised Riley a full tour including the gym, pool and field. And if I can convince her, she’ll stick around for practice today.”

  “Can’t wait,” she says sarcastically.

  “I’ll see you in a bit,” Jamie concludes, before heading back to the gym, Riley waving at us.

  I watch them walk out and something in me stirs, something strong and dangerous. Something that could lead me to give up what I believe in, just for one smile that could knock me out and two eyes that I have memorized in my mind; ever since that night that I let her slide into my thoughts, flipping my heart, that I thought I had thrown to the bottom of the ocean, and that has now found a way to free itself and take in a breath of oxygen, stealing it from me.

  10

  Ian

  Present

  I leave the gym, totally knackered. The only thing I want to do is collapse on the sofa, but it’s still taken by that idiot brother of mine – the one who still hasn’t got off his arse to make an appearance at home. What the hell did he even come back for if he’s never going to go over and visit them?

  I take out my phone and decide to try again - maybe today I’ll be able to convince him, but it rings through with no reply. I now have two brothers who have decided to ignore me.

  I should just kick him out.

  I get on my bike and head towards the city for dinner with my parents. We always tried to have dinner together at home, even as adults whenever we could, and I try to keep up the tradition.

  It never felt like a chore to me. I enjoy spending time at home, but the emptiness that my brothers left when they went away can be oppressive at times. It’s hard not to let it get you down.

  Nick and Ryan abandoned their family, their city and their country just to get enough distance between them to stop them from killing each other, and at first, I applauded the effort to keep them apart, to help them reflect on their mistakes and then get over it. But too much time has passed, and they haven’t spoken to each other since they both left Dublin, and I’m starting to think that things will never change.

  I guess I’m not helping the situation either; in a way, I’m an enabler. I act as a go-between for them. I take care of the family, I make sure no one gets hurt, that everything is okay and that my parents are fine.

  I’ll confess, all these worries can be suffocating.

  I breathe in the cold winter air that freezes my face; it relaxes me, helping me feel free even though I’m on edge, finding it more and more difficult to stay in control.

  Despite the fact that I’ve not had a moment of peace all day, between training, the problems at home, and Ryan, there’s another thought that’s been running through my mind.

  A thought that I have to get rid of, right now.

  I wanted to call her, but it seemed excessive to me. So, I sent her a message. To be honest, I sent three, all with no response.

  I understood from her silence that my interest is not appreciated, nor is my company. I should have expected that: it’s what I deserve. I have to accept it and move on. After all, I’m the one who wanted it this way.

  I chose the easier way, the safer way. I made my decision a year ago, and I don’t intend to go back on it now. I did the right thing for her and for me.

  I can’t pay any attention to the shivers that run through me when she looks at me, to my heart that tries to bust out of its cage when I touch her. It’s only a weakness, something to be nipped in the bud.

  I bury the thought of her to the furthest corner of my mind as I park my bike in the alley behind my parents’ house. I dismount and take off my helmet and go over to my father who’s outside pruning the hedges.

  “Hey Ian,” he says with a smile. “These plants really needed some work. Your mother was complaining she couldn’t see the flowers out the window anymore.”

  “You could’ve called me, I’d have come earlier to give you a hand.”

  “I can do it myself, I’m not that old,” he jokes, going back to his bushes.

  “Well of course you aren’t, that’s not the point. I’d be happy to help.”

  “You have your own life,” he says without looking at me. “You need to live it and stop worrying about us…about me,” he finishes, lowering his voice.

  My life. He has no idea.

  I put a hand on his shoulder, and he sighs before looking at me.

  “I know things aren’t going well…” he begins, turning away from the shrubs. “I am aware of it, you know. Not always, but on certain days, when I’m…myself, I have the feeling that I’ve lost something. I don’t know if I’m explaining myself very well.”

  “Dad…”

  “I’d like you to promise me something.”

  “Sure, whatever you want.”

  “I’m asking you because your brothers, well, they have their own things to do…”

  “No, don’t even think about it,” I interrupt him immediately.

  “Your mother has the right to live her life. I don’t want her to spend years taking care of me, washing me, dressing me and worrying that I might set the house on fire.”

  “Mum loves you.”

  “Do you think I don’t know that?” He smiles tenderly. “And I love her. That’s the reason I don’t want her to be a part of everything that’s coming my way. You have to promise me.”

  “I don’t know if I can do that.”

  “For her. You can do it for her.” He looks at me very seriously for a few seconds before I force myself to nod. “All right then, let’s go inside.” He wraps up, taking off his gloves and heading towards the house.

  I watch him go in, and after a few seconds, he appears behind the living room window. My mother joins him, says something that makes him smile and then gives him a gentle kiss on the lips.

  I watch them in their happiness, so tender and in love, and I can’t help wondering how many more moments like this there will be for them.

  When the worst will hit, taking away the best part of them. And of me.

  This family is the most precious gift life could grant me, and I would do anything to keep it going.

  11

  Ian

  Fifteen years earlier

  I get back from school and throw my backpack on the kitchen table, covering my face with my arm because the odour of cigarette smoke in a confined space makes me nauseous. I open the window, even though it’s freezing outside, to let a little air and light in.

  I look around, and I realise the kitchen is exactly how I left it: full of dishes waiting to be washed and dirty, sticky ashtrays everywhere, full to the brim.

  I pick up the letters that have been lying on the floor, and relief floods through me when I see an envelope I was anxiously waiting for – our welfare cheque.

  I hide it before Mum can find it and decide to spend it as she pleases. I go to look for her, even though I know I’m going to find her in the same position where I left her this morning. I poke my head into her room and find a figure lying on the bed, wrapped up in the dark.

  “Mum?”

  “Mmm...” She turns to me.

  I sigh in relief.

  “Didn’t you even get out of bed today?”

  “Sure I did,” she says, confused, as she tries to set her feet on the ground, knocking over a bottle as she does so.

  I clench my jaw trying to control the anger as I move towards her.

  “Don’t look at me like that,” she says. “Don’t pity me.”

  “I don’t.”

  “I’m just tired. It’ll pass.”

  “Have you eaten anything?”

  She shrugs. “I don’t think there’s anything to eat in the house.”

  “I’m going shopping. I’ll make you
something, alright?”

  “Since when did you start cooking?” she asks, unaware of the significance of her question.

  I don’t answer her, but instead go back to get the cheque, which I’ll cash in at the corner shop at the end of the road, allowing us to make it through until the end of the week, but making no promises for the one after that - or any that follow.

  Present

  I get out of bed dazed, even more tired than when I went to sleep. I can hear a racket coming from the kitchen. I sit up and look around to see Ryan trying to pull something out of the cupboard. I get up, putting my bare feet on the floor and march in the direction of the chaos that is currently invading my life, which I would have preferred to avoid.

  “What the hell are you doing?” I ask, resting my hands on the counter.

  “Jesus, Ian!” Ryan turns to me with his hand on his chest. “You’re as quiet as a mouse!”

  “Can’t say the same about you.”

  “I was just trying to make some coffee,”

  I look at the clock. “It’s seven a.m.”

  “I’m used to getting up early.”

  I sit on the stool in front of him.

  “Aren’t you cold?” he asks, alluding to the fact that I’m not wearing a t-shirt.

  “Not at all.”

  He sets a cup of coffee down in front of me.

  “Wow. I’m touched.”

  “Piss off!”

  I take a sip, and I’m lucky I don’t bring it back up.

  “A bit of sugar, maybe?”

  “I like it bitter.” He crosses his arms over his chest.

  “I don’t.” I get up and walk around the counter to get some sugar.

  “Holy shit, you’re…you’re…”

  I lower my gaze and shrug.

  “I like to sleep naked.”

  “Jesus Christ, Ian! Do you mind putting some pants on? You’re not alone here!”

  “You’re in my house.”

  “Okay, but come on!”

  “I don’t have any problem walking around my house in the nude, Ryan. If you’re getting an inferiority complex, you can always go jump off a…”

  “Okay, okay, I got it!” He says, raising his hands and backing away.

  I laugh under my breath and add a little milk to my coffee, mixing it slowly.

  “What’s that?”

  I turn to see him pointing at the tattoos I have on my hip and abs that disappear right above my groin.

  “I didn’t know those birds went that far down.”

  “I’d be worried if you did know.”

  “You’re in a particularly good mood today.”

  “Must be the good company.”

  Ryan walks off towards the bedroom, and when he comes back, he’s got my jogging bottoms in his hands, which he throws at me.

  “I can’t talk to you like this.”

  “No one asked you to,” I reply dryly, but slip on the trousers all the same. Then, I grab my cup, place two pieces of bread in the toaster, and sit down to wait for them.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be training today?” Ryan asks, completely comfortable with my life’s schedule.

  “On Mondays, we train in the afternoon.”

  He nods and purses his lips. I think he’s starting to miss it.

  “Well, I’m going to have a shower,” he says, going in the bathroom before I can press the issue.

  I look at the clock again. It’s ten past seven, and I’m already exhausted.

  I have to wait half a day before hitting the gym to release some of this pent-up tension. I can’t go running because we’re not allowed to overdo it.

  What other options do I have?

  I could break Ryan’s face, but maybe I shouldn’t. I’m starting to think he might not have many career options other than underwear model.

  I look at the phone sitting on the counter and anxiety pulses through me. I grab it and flip through the messages.

  A full 24 hours have passed. No reply.

  A big, fat nothing.

  Ryan walks back into the living room with a towel around his waist, dripping onto the floor that I’m going to have to wipe up.

  He stands in front of me with his hands on his hips as if I was thirteen years old and he was my big brother.

  “Is that what I think it is?”

  I ignore him.

  “Don’t do it, Ian. Don’t call her.”

  Shit.

  Our roles really have been reversed.

  12

  Ian

  Two years earlier

  She opens the door, just sticking her head in, and is visibly surprised by my visit.

  “Hi,” I greet her.

  “Hi…Jamie isn’t home,” she cuts to the chase.

  “Yeah, I realised that when I noticed his car was missing,” I lie shamelessly. I know full well that Jamie isn’t here. “I was in the area, and I thought I’d stop by.”

  “Come in,” she opens the door to let me in. “It appears that Jamie’s got a new flame.”

  “I imagine,” I say smirking. Jamie always has a new flame. “Am I disturbing you?”

  “No, not at all.”

  “No hot date tonight? It’s Saturday evening, you know…”

  “Nope,” she says blushing. “What about you? No love-life news?” She asks, biting her lip.

  “Not at the moment,” I reply steadily. “What were you watching?” I change the subject before I throw up on her coffee table.

  “Captain America.”

  “Oh, come on…” I tease.

  “What can I do? I’ve got a crush on Chris Evans.”

  “Well, if I was a woman, I probably would too.”

  She laughs.

  The sound of it fills my ears, my soul, the entire room as well as the house and the whole neighborhood.

  “Have you eaten?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Do you mind some company?”

  “Not at all. We can order something.”

  “Nah,” I say standing up and heading towards the kitchen. “I can make something. I just need a few basic ingredients,” I say opening the fridge. “Like these.” I pull out some chicken breasts. “And these…” I say grabbing some vegetables. “And if you’ve got some pasta…”

  “I think there’s some in the cupboard.”

  I move around in her kitchen, opening cabinets, and drawers. I pull out pots and pans, chop up vegetables, and turn on the hobs, mixing and tasting as I prepare our meal.

  “If you want, turn on some music,” I say, adding a few more herbs to the chicken.

  “Ah-ha,” She heads into the living room and comes back with her phone, which she promptly hooks up to a set of speakers under the TV. I watch her work, enjoying these stolen moments from her daily life – ones where I am nothing more than a useless extra.

  Riley sets her plate down on the table in front of us and rubs her stomach.

  “God, I ate so much. I didn’t know you were such a good cook. Who taught you, your mother?” She asks innocently.

  “I’m self-taught,” I answer.

  “You’re good. You could open a restaurant.”

  “That’s a stretch. But I make do.”

  “Well, if things don’t go the way you hope with rugby, you’ve got a backup plan already.”

  “Rugby’s everything to me.”

  She looks at me, tilting her head.

  “Even though I know I don’t have many years left in me.”

  “What are you talking about?” She asks, taking a sip of wine and stretching her legs out on the sofa just enough to graze my thigh.

  We’re both on our third glass, and I’m starting to feel warm.

  But maybe it’s not the wine.

  “I’m getting to a certain age. I’m not as young as Jamie,” I comment, trying to ignore the alarms going off in my head. “In a few years, I’ll need to quit.”

  “You’re not that old,” she quips.

  “For the level I’m play
ing at, it’s different.”

  “What do you want to do afterwards?” she asks with interest.

  “I still haven’t figured that out. I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it. How about you?”

  “Me? I’m good.”

  “Isn’t there anything you’d like to do?”

  She shrugs. “There are loads of things, but I’ve never thought too seriously about doing them.”

  “We all have the right to want something more.”

  “I have a good job, and all things considered, I like it – it would be hard to ask for more.”

  I look at her, hoping she’ll go on.

  “I started working when I was 16 years old. I hadn’t even finished school.”

  “Why?” I ask cautiously.

  “I couldn’t afford not to.”

  “Your family couldn’t afford it?” I ask with discretion.

  “We don’t have a family.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Jamie is all I have.”

  “Your parents are dead?” I try.

  She shakes her head. “My mother left when we were little, Jamie can’t even remember her face. We were left with our father. We lived in a small apartment in Rathmines. Dirty, damp, and dark. We didn’t have a lot of money,” she continues, embarrassed.

  “He wasn’t a hard worker…and not much of a father. He wasn’t much of anything,” she concludes bitterly.

  “Riley, I…”

  “You didn’t know.”

  I shake my head.

  “We don’t like talking about it. It’s not a time in our lives we want to remember.”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be pushy.”

  “You weren’t,” she says shrugging. “You didn’t know and you asked.”

  “Questions you shouldn’t feel obligated to answer.”

  “I don’t feel that way. I’m fine. It’s been a long time since then. Jamie and I have muddled through.”

  “Did you take care of him?” I ask, feeling my throat close up.