Wee Rockets

by Gerard Brennan

  Joe spotted a half a brick on the footpath ahead, probably left over from a recent attack on a passing PSNI land rover. He darted forward and scooped it up before Wee Danny had a chance to get near it.

  "You pick," Joe said.

  Wee Danny pulled up his hood. He pointed at an oncoming bus speeding up the Falls Road to beat the lights. "Who can resist a classic?"

  Joe pulled up his own hood and launched the brick at the bus windshield. The experienced Citybus driver slammed on the brakes instead of swerving on impact. The safety glass concaved and cracks spider-webbed densely. Wee Danny whooped and they ran up the Springfield Road and cut into a residential area. A chorus of blaring black taxi horns sounded disapproval.

  Scattered residents, out and about on their way to elsewhere, glanced at them as they zipped past. Nobody shouted for them to stop. They shouldered their way through a pack of nippers kicking a half-deflated ball about. Threats of beatings at the hands of elder siblings followed, but Joe didn't look back. He enjoyed the run. It was one of the few things he did well. Running away.

  He forgot about everything as his world shrank to one physical challenge; landing one foot in front of the other. His lungs burned. His feet thwacked pavement. He wove through cars parked on kerbs. He skipped over dogshit. Thoughts of failure and disappointing his mother gave way to the thrill of getting-away-with-it. He smiled.

  "Stop," Wee Danny said, his skin pale and his voice wheezy. He pulled on Joe's sleeve, barely able to keep pace. "I'm gasping."

  And it was over. An end to escape. Back to reality.

  They slowed to a halt and Wee Danny pulled two cigarettes from his pocket. They took a seat on a high kerb and smoked. Joe's hand shook as he raised the fag to his lips. What a buzz.

  ###

  Louise's thumb hovered over the button pad of her mobile. It wasn't a question of whether or not she wanted Stephen to come around with a DVD and a takeaway. She did. But she hesitated because of Joe.

  Joe had been the only man in her life since Dermot's midnight flit. There'd been casual flings on girls' nights out, but they'd been few and far between, and never at her house. Stephen had been a drunken fumble, and she couldn't even remember if he'd been any good. But he'd seemed interested in her that morning. He'd made her feel good with a few words. And she felt she deserved that. No, she needed that.

  Her thumb made contact with the send button but didn't apply any pressure.

  She thought about what she might tell Joe.

  "Joe, this is Stephen. He's a friend of your mummy's."

  Her voice sounded too upbeat. She went to the pine-framed mirror above the mantelpiece. Her reflection eyed her suspiciously.

  "Joe, I want you to meet my new boyfriend." She blushed. "And there he goes, right out the door. Guess you don't need to worry about that guy, son. Silly old me, calling him my boyfriend after one night."

  Louise placed her hands on the mantelpiece and bowed her head. She took a deep breath, looked up and made eye contact with her reflection. A smile tugged at her mouth as she tried her best to look natural. She giggled, bowed her head again, breathed and looked up.

  "Joe, I'm shagging Stephen. If that pisses you off, good! You shouldn't have called me the C word. Now shake hands with the man before I kick you in the balls again."

  She pushed down hard on the send button. When the phone told her the message had been sent, her stomach somersaulted. Regret instantly surfaced.

  "Too late now, wee girl. Stephen's coming over tonight. Better scrub up if you don't want to scare him away."

  In the bedroom, she sat at her hand-me-down mahogany dressing table and examined herself in her round makeup mirror. It magnified her insecurities to five times their normal size. An inch of dark roots offset lank, peroxide blonde hair. She frowned at her crow's feet and eye luggage. The lines running from the corners of her mouth to her chin had deepened. Was her nose bigger? How could her nose be growing? Why did Stephen want to see her again, anyway? He had to be at least five years younger than her. She'd been upfront about Joe, and what a nightmare he was. Stephen played football and had the muscles to prove it. She had stretchmarks and a saggy belly. He earned an honest living as a joiner. She did the double at a shitty bakery.

  Had he just spotted an easy ride? She shouldn't have texted him. He only said he'd come back to make leaving this morning less awkward.

  Her mobile beeped and buzzed. Stephen's text message confirmed he'd see her at nine. Hours away, but she felt panicked by the deadline.

  Drink! She thought. I want a drink.

  She needed to get something in to offer Stephen anyway. He'd said he would bring food and a film. He hadn't mentioned alcohol. He'd think it odd if she had nothing to offer. Makeup later. Drink now. It'd soften her self criticisms.

  On her way to the off licence on the Falls Road, Louise spotted some of Joe's friends. Liam Greene and the Fegan twins. The three of them smoked cigarettes at the bus shelter close to the Beechmount Avenue entrance. The cancer-sticks looked ridiculously long in their pubescent paws. They didn't even have the decency to hide their fags when she waved at them.

  "Hiya, Missus Phillips," Liam said, when she was within talking distance.

  "Hi, Liam." She nodded to the twins. "Boys."

  The non-identical Fegan twins nodded back. As usual, they'd been dressed to match by their mummy, from their baseball caps to their Reebok runners. Geeks.

  "Have any of you been talking to our Joe today?" she asked.

  "No. We haven't seen him since Saturday." Liam curved his mouth in a smile his own mother would like to slap. "I thought he was grounded. Because of the state we were all in on Saturday night. Did he get away with it?" The twins sniggered. Cigarette smoke blasted from their nostrils.

  You're a sly wee bastard, aren't you? Louise thought. She smiled back at him. "Joe and I have an understanding. If he doesn't fall through the door, he's not in trouble. He's a lot bigger than you other boys. He can handle his drink better."

  Liam's grin faded. He looked away from Louise.

  There was no such arrangement, but she couldn't resist spoiling Liam's fun. She'd talk to Joe about sensible drinking when things cooled down between them.

  "Will you tell Joe I'm looking for him if you see him, Liam? I think his phone battery must be dead. I keep getting his answer machine."

  "No problem, Missus Phillips." The cockiness had left his voice.

  She got about two yards up the road when one of them wolf-whistled. She glanced over her shoulder.

  "It was him," they said in unison, each one pointing to another.

  "Whatever," she said, wishing she hadn't given them the satisfaction.

  She bought three tins of Harp lager, a bottle of Kulov vodka and a big bottle of Coke. She poured herself a generous vodka and Coke as soon as she got back to the house. A few gulps had her topped up from the previous night's session and her mood improved. She turned on the radio in her bedroom and slapped on her face as she sang pop songs and drank. Drinking and singing while she got dolled up used to be her favourite part of going out with her mates. It'd been a while since she'd done it, but its familiarity and simplicity soothed her. The backtrack loop of guilt that had tortured her since hitting Joe the day before finally packed it in. She put aside her self doubts and looked forward to seeing Stephen again. She drowned her suspicion of his intentions in vodka.

  Stephen showed up fifteen minutes early, and Louise answered the door confident and tipsy. She almost purred when he kissed her cheek.

  "Come in, you big eejit. What did you bring?"

  He reached into a blue plastic bag and pulled out four DVDs. He fanned them out for her.

  "I wasn't sure what kind of stuff you liked so I brought a selection. A horror flick, a comedy, one about the Troubles and, in the unlikely event that you're a martial arts movie fan, a Jackie Chan one."

  "I like horror. Let's watch that. But we should have a wee drink first. Beer or vodka?"

  "Oh, God. Definit
ely a beer after last night."

  "You big wimp." She laughed at his pretend insulted face.

  "I'll start with a beer and see where it takes me, then."

  "That's the spirit."

  "I thought we could phone for the Chinese later. Didn't know if you'd be hungry for it now."

  "Suits me. I'll be back in a minute. Sit down and relax."

  She skipped into the kitchen. He'd impressed her with his thoughtfulness. Bringing four DVDs to make sure they could watch something they'd both enjoy. Simple things like that said so much about a person. She could get into a man like that. And she wouldn't be afraid to let him know. It just took a little confidence and a lot of attitude. She could pull off sexy and sure of herself.

  Drinking three strong vodkas before he'd arrived helped.

  If she drank another three, Stephen was likely to get lucky again. She almost giggled. Behave yourself, you wee hussy. She topped up her drink and lifted a tin for Stephen.

  "Would you like a glass?" she asked as she handed him the beer.

  "No thanks. This is grand."

  Another point in his favour. He was happy to drink beer from the tin. No airs and graces.

  She hesitated for a second then sat on the armchair instead of the sofa. She wanted to talk to him without craning her neck sideways. He raised his eyebrows and smiled at her. So talk to me, his expression said.

  "Did you get up to much today?" Louise asked.

  "Just did a wee bit at the gym. Then I went for a run. I should be doing a few things about the house, but I didn't have the head on me for it today. How about you?"

  "Well, to be honest, I've just been waiting about to talk to Joe but he hasn't been in all day."

  Stephen sat forward. "Really? Do you know who he's with?"

  "Probably Wee Danny. I saw a couple of his other mates earlier on and they said they hadn't seen him."

  "So he's not with the whole gang, then?"

  "Gang? I'd hardly call them a gang. They don't even seem to like each other. Always calling each other names... Why the interest anyway?"

  "Ach, no reason. Just wondering what he could be up to all day."

  "You know what teenagers are like. Probably hanging about on corners, spitting and talking about girls."

  Stephen grunted. "He should be here trying to patch things up with you."

  Louise wracked her brains for a subject change. She didn't want to dampen the mood with talk about Joe. "Maybe we could stick the first half of the film on, eh? Then we'll take a break to phone the Chinese."

  "Only if you come and sit beside me."

  "Deal."

  Being an old fashioned girl, she handed Stephen the remote controls. He got the film going and set the volume. Loud enough for the soundtrack to have the full effect, but low enough for them to whisper bitchy comments about the cast to each other. Stephen pretended not to be attracted to the young brunette heroine, claiming to have a thing for blondes, and she pretended to believe him. In turn, she lied about preferring passionate, red-haired Irish men to the tall dark and handsome types. They drank a little more and huddled close on the sofa. She jumped in all the right places and he squeezed her hand and chuckled. She couldn't remember having a nicer evening.

  Then Joe came home.

  They had just hit pause and were reading the takeaway menu when the unlocked front door opened slowly. Joe shuffled in, expecting trouble. His body language went from hangdog to guard dog as soon as he spotted Stephen sitting beside Louise and drinking a beer.

  "You came home, then," Louise said.

  "What's he doing here?" Joe barked his words, glaring at Stephen.

  "His name's Stephen."

  "I know who he is. What the fuck's he doing here?"

  "You watch your mouth, wee boy." Louise stood up and Joe back-stepped.

  Her own son, flinching away from her. How could things have gotten so out of hand?

  "Maybe I should go," Stephen said.

  "I don't want you to."

  "It's okay, Louise. I can understand why Joe's upset." He turned to Joe. "I'm a friend of you ma's, but I don't want to rock the boat. If you want me to, I'll leave. It's up to you."

  Joe looked at Stephen, then Louise. He pushed out his lower lip. A childish expression Louise hadn't seen on him in years. "Do what you want."

  Joe stomped up the stairs and slammed his bedroom door shut.

  "I'm sorry about that," she said.

  "It's okay."

  "You're so nice. Thank you."

  "Ach, wise up. I'll be okay here for a bit if you want to go talk to him. You probably should."

  Louise almost welled up. She nodded and followed her son up the stairs.

  She found Joe lying on his bed with his duvet pulled up over his head. His Nike Airs poked out at the end of his bed. The smell of dirty socks and cigarette smoke filled the room. Louise opened a window then knelt by the side of Joe's bed.

  "We have to talk, son."

  No response.

  "Come on, Joe. I don't want to fight. I want us to get on."

  "Humpf!"

  Louise gently pulled the duvet away from Joe's face. He looked at her with brown puppy-dog eyes.

  "I'm sorry for losing the bap with you yesterday, son. But you're not completely blameless yourself. What you said... it really hurt me."

  Joe nodded. "I know mum. It just slipped out. I don't really think you're a... you know... one of those."

  "I appreciate that, love. I'll work on my temper." She should have said she would never hit him again, but she didn't want to say it out loud. It still felt too raw.

  Joe sat up in the bed and Louise gave him an awkward hug. He squeezed back for a second then patted her back to let her know he'd finished. She kissed his cheek and stood up.

  "So why is McVeigh here, then?"

  "I met him last night. He seems nice, so we're watching a DVD and having a wee drink. You can join us if you like."

  Joe shook his head.

  "You sure? We were about to get a takeaway. You're probably starving."

  He shook his head again.

  There was no point pushing the topic. Judging by his glazed eyes and silence, he was off somewhere in his head. He'd left the conversation to have a think.

  "Okay, son. But if you get bored later, come on down."

  He nodded.

  The doorbell ding-donged.

  Joe snapped out of his daze and looked at Louise.

  "Are you expecting someone?" Louise asked.

  "No."

  "Could be Karen, I suppose. Better go see."

  As she stepped out onto the landing she heard Stephen answer the door. What sounded like a pleasant greeting got a sharp return. Stephen raised his voice.

  "Why? Who the fuck are you?"

  Louise stalled at the top of the stairs, afraid of what she might walk into. Joe stood on the landing with his head cocked, concentrating on the rising voices below.

  "No, you tell me yours." Stephen said.

  The mystery caller mumbled something.

  "Like fuck you will. You may dander on now while your legs still work."

  The anger in Stephen's voice broke her paralysis. She bolted down the stairs. Joe called her back, but she couldn't stand by.

  She found Stephen blocking the door. The back of his neck burned bright red. "Stephen. What's going on?"

  Stephen didn't turn around. "There's a wanker at the door saying he lives here. Won't believe me that he's got the wrong house and he's getting close to an awful hiding."

  Louise couldn't see past Stephen's wide shoulders. But she heard the mystery man's voice. She took a dizzy spell at the sound of it.

  "Louise, tell this ginger cunt to get out of my way."

  The familiar voice set her heart into overdrive. "Oh my God. No."

  Stephen turned and looked at her, angry and confused. "Do you know him?"

  The visitor took advantage of Stephen's divided attention. Louise heard a hollow thump. Stephen yelped and w
ent down. His hands went to his lower back. Kidney punch. She winced for him. The tall, dark, kind of good looking man stepped over Stephen's writhing body and smiled at Louise. Familiar smile, fatter face. She couldn't speak. Couldn't move.

  She sensed Joe standing behind her. "What's going on?"

  "Joe? Is that you? Jesus Christ, you've fairly grown."

  "Who are you?"

  Shit, shit, shit. Don't you dare tell him. Not now.

  "I'm Dermot. Your dad. How the hell are you, Joe?"

  Chapter 5

  Pain thrummed in Stephen's lower back. The sneaky fucker stabbed me, he thought, panicking. He held his hands up to his eyes when he could bear to open them. No blood. Thank God. His hands went back to his kidney to massage the agony. He concentrated on breathing. In. Out. In. Out. He didn't want to risk standing. Not yet. Better to wait. Wait until he was ready to hit the fucker who'd floored him. He rested his head on the laminate flooring. Dust and the ghostly scent of chemical floor cleaner tickled his nose.

  He could hear Louise.

  "... come waltzing back here whenever you feel like it? What's wrong with your head? All these years and not so much as a birthday card for your own son. You're a useless..."

  So he'd just been sucker-punched by Joe's da. Afraid to face him like a man. Sleeked bastard.

  "Louise, please," Joe's da said. His voice had a spoilt child whine to it. "Just listen to me for two minutes. Then I'll leave. Okay?"

  "You have one minute."

  "Then I don't have time to go into why I left and where I was. Just know that I had no choice. It was for the best. But that's not what I'm here for. I'm not after forgiveness. You've moved on, and I expected that. But I'm back in Belfast, probably for good. I want to get to know my son."

  "It's a bit late now," Louise said.

  "I'm trying to put things right. Don't write me off straight away. Please. Just let me leave my number. Then you can think about it and let me know. I promise you, I've changed."

  "You've changed? I just watched you force your way in here. You've been back in my life for a few seconds and already you've hurt one of my friends. You're poison, Dermot Kelly. I'd be a fool to let you near Joe."

  Dermot Kelly, Stephen thought, I'm going to break your neck for you.