Lucky This Isn't Real

I put on my jacket and headed for the exit. Maybe Maggie was right, and I did need to work through my past. Perhaps therapy could help.

I hadn’t done myself many favors, keeping all my feelings stuffed inside. There had been a time in my late teens and early twenties when I drank too much, but I kept that under control these days. I could take a beer or two without drinking to excess.

If I was honest, I feared I might wind up going down the same path my dad had. I wasn’t doing smack, of course, but I had relied on a substance to cope with life just the same as he had, and I really didn’t have much of a moral high ground.

I couldn’t imagine myself letting it get as far as he had, but then again, I guess he never imagined that happening to him, either, until it did.

I also felt bad about Maggie. About not telling her about that part of my life. I was worried it might scare her off if she knew the whole, ugly truth. Addiction could be genetic.

Plus, she had specifically asked me about violence, and I had been pretty rough in the past. Not unprovoked, but still. Once you’ve fractured a man’s skull with a beer bottle, it wasn’t the sort of thing you tended to forget. Even if he had been shanking your baby brother at the time.

I wasn’t sure if Maggie would accept me for my scarred past. But I needed to come clean. I needed to tell her that she was right and that I would go for therapy and, if I had the guts, I needed to tell her what really happened and what I was really like when I was younger before I cleaned up my act.

The gate to her apartment complex was already open when I got there, so I didn’t have to buzz, which was nice because it would add to the surprise. I just hoped that she was home. I had a bit of a shock when I got to the door and heard yelling.

It was Maggie. I pushed open the ajar door to see what was happening.

“Oh, come on! I’m really tired of surprise visitors today,” she said as I walked into the kitchen.

I was about to ask what she meant when I saw Kenny standing over by the sink with an open beer.

“Seriously?” I asked.

“What?” Kenny asked.

“Come on,” she said and took me out onto the front porch, slamming the door behind her so that Kenny couldn’t hear us.

“What the hell happened?” I demanded of Maggie. “Are you still pissed about what I said last night? Because you sure seemed friendly enough this morning. And now I find your fucking ex here. Were you double-timing me the whole time, or is this a new development?”

I couldn’t hide the venom from my voice.

“Oh, yeah, you’re one to talk about secrets,” she spat back. “Hiding the truth about your family and saying you’re falling for me.”

“I came to tell you that you were right, and that I’m going into therapy for all that. I need the sort out my head if I’m going to be emotionally healthy.”

She crossed her arms and rocked back on her heels.

“You’re still being fake. An actor to the core. You merely made that up right now. You can’t just use me as an emotional crutch when things aren’t going well.”

I was about to protest her sudden switch from hot to cold, but then I remembered that the whole thing was fake to start with.

That was when Kenny decided to intervene by opening the front door and scowling at me.

Pointing the finger of his non-beer hand with ferocious emphasis, he said, “Hey, listen, you Paddy fuck, I think—”

I never got to find out what he thought. As soon as he was in range, I grabbed his finger and snapped it in half at the second knuckle and head-butted him so hard his knees buckled.

He collapsed to the floor, howling, getting beer and blood all over the carpet.

Nobody called me ‘Paddy.’

“Pro-tip, bottles can do more damage than fingers can. If you’re gonna come at me, come swinging like a man,” I told him.

I headed to the door, turning back to Maggie, who looked shocked at the vulgar display of violence.

“Have fun with that douche. Though you may want to call an ambulance.”

I made sure to calm down before driving home. I didn’t want to actually kill anyone. In a car accident or otherwise.

Getting back without incident, I took the stairs, trying to work off more of the old, frightening aggression I felt coursing through me.

But when I arrived back home, I realized that my place wasn’t empty.

“Eoin?”

My eyes widened at the sight of my younger brother sitting on my sofa.

He jumped up.