“Good. Sounds like ye raised him right.”
“More like your mum did. Shit, I don’t know what I would have done without her. I was so messed up for so long, I think I had a panic attack when she finally moved out.”
“Ye ready to tell me what I want to know?” he asked, taking the joint from me again and finishing it off.
“Want to go inside for this?” I asked calmly, leaning back against the railing.
“Probably not. At least out here dere ain’t anyt’in’ to break.” He shook his head at me, his eyes moving leisurely from the top of my head to the neck of my black blouse.
“It’s not something I talk about—ever.” I said, looking away from him. “I mean, I haven’t even discussed it with Sam yet.”
“Dat de jammie bastard wit’ his hands all over ye today?”
“He’s a good guy, Patrick.”
“He know he’s fuckin’ a married woman?”
“Don’t be a cunt, he knows that we were married.”
“Cunt, huh? Yer language has gone to hell. And we’re still married.”
“It’s a piece of fucking paper,” I argued, knowing that I should be really irritated, but not really feeling it. The marijuana was doing its job.
“It was vows we spoke in front of a priest.”
“A dirty priest.”
“Dat doesn’t matter.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“We made promises,” he insisted stupidly, and I had to curl my hands around each other to keep them from smacking him in the head.
“You didn’t keep even one of those promises—” my words trailed off as I saw movement at the end of our long driveway, and within seconds I was on my feet and running.
“Phoenix?” I called, “Are you okay? What happened?”
He was sweaty and breathing hard, his face beet red from running in the heat, and there were dust covered tear tracks on his cheeks.
“It’s nothing, Mum,” he lied, passing me without meeting my eyes.
“It isn’t nothing. What the hell, Nix?”
“I said it was nothing!” he turned and leaned down to yell at me, and I flinched backward.
“Mum?” he asked, his voice cracking as he tried to understand my movement.
“Don’t speak to yer mum dat way,” Patrick said angrily, walking toward us.
“I can handle this, Patrick,” I warned, my eyes never leaving Nix’s.
“Ye don’t look like yer handlin’ anyt’in’,” he retorted.
“Why the fuck are you still here?” Nix hissed, turning to face Patrick. “Your mom no longer lives here, you need to leave.”
“Phoenix Robert!” I yelled, completely caught off guard by his scathing words. Who the hell was this kid?
“Ye okay, boy?” Patrick asked quietly, watching Nix closely.
“Fuck you! I said I’m fine!”
“Ye don’t look it.”
“I’m fine!” Nix yelled, his hands closing into fists and his arms tightening down his sides. Tears began running down his cheeks again, and humiliation mixed with absolute grief on his face.
“Baby,” I murmured, reaching out to touch his back gently through the sweaty white undershirt he was wearing. “What’s going on?”
My tone, or maybe my touch, must have been the catalyst, because he began sobbing as he covered his face with his hands. He turned his body toward mine, and I took most of his weight as he wrapped himself around me.
“Mum,” he moaned into my neck.
“You’re okay, son,” I whispered into his ear. “We’ll figure whatever it is out. I promise, baby. But you’ve got to tell me what it is.”
Patrick watched us with concerned eyes as I held Nix in my arms. He wasn’t sure what to do—and I was glad for that. He may have been Peg’s son, and a part of my life years ago, but he had absolutely nothing to do with Nix.
Nix was mine. Only mine.
“He broke up with me,” Nix finally whispered.
On the day of his grandmother’s funeral? I shook with fury, wishing that Simon was eighteen so I could go over and beat the shit out of him. What a little dick head.
“He said he wasn’t really gay, that he just—” Nix began sobbing once again, and I almost didn’t hear his whisper. “He said he just knew that I’d give him a blowjob.”
My stomach turned at the whispered words and I saw red.
“What a prick,” I said tightly, squeezing Nix tighter. “And if that kid isn’t gay, then neither is Elton John.”
Nix laughed once, then pulled back to meet my eyes.
“I’m so embarrassed,” he said shamefully.
“You have nothing to be embarrassed about, Phoenix Gallagher. Not one thing. He’s the douchebag, not you.”
“But why would he say that?”
“Because people are assholes sometimes.” I reached up to grab a fist full of his hair, holding it tight as I made him meet my eyes. “You’re better than him. So much better. And someday you’re going to meet a guy that’s as handsome as you are, and he’s gonna think you hung the fucking moon.”
“This hurts really bad, Mumma.”
“I know it does, baby. I know.”
I turned him, and walked him slowly to the house as he did anything he could to keep from meeting Patrick’s eyes. My kid was mortified, and I resented the fact that Patrick had witnessed something that Nix didn’t want him to see.