Page 32 of The Beginning and End of Everything
“Maybe.”
"Feckin' hell. Come on." I grabbed his arm, dragging him from the couch as I stood.
"Where?"
"We're going to see Slutty Suzie."
"Bran. Come on." He started to pull away, but my grip just tightened. This was for his own good.
"No. We're going. She showed me her pussy last year and changed my whole world. Look, you took me to confession when we were kids, now it's time for me to help you sin. You won't even talk to a girl because you're so hung up on Poppy." I shook my head. "It's just getting sad now."
He pulled against me again. I was always the devil on Connor’s shoulder, but he needed a push. Without me, he would be a virgin until he found some girl to marry.
I grinned on our way to the door. "I’m not asking you to sleep with her. Just kiss the girl—anything to get a little experience.” I stared at Connor and the uncertainty on his face. “Look, I'll take ya to confession right after."
"The entire church would go up in smoke the second your arse walked through the doors.”
"I happen to be baptized, thank you very much.”
We were halfway through his yard before he stopped resisting. Then he shoved me. "I swear to God, Bran. You tell anyone about this, and I will let everyone know about that time we had that farting contest and you strained so hard you shit yourself."
"You'd never prove it."
"Might would."
"Fine. I won't tell." I spat on my palm and held out my hand. He did the same, and we shook. "I swear if you ask me to pinky swear …"
He let out a sigh. "Come on, let’s get this over with. It’s just a kiss, right?"
16
Brandon
May 2004
Ma flopped down on the couch with a hand to her head. “Can you get me the paracetamol?”
I grabbed it from the cupboard, filled a glass with water, and handed both to her. “You’ve been having a lot of headaches.”
She tossed the pill back, then laid back down. “It’s just the weather. Are you going to Connor’s?”
“Yeah. I’ll be home for dinner.”
“Okay, sweetheart. I love you.” She smiled up at me, and I leaned down to press a kiss to her cheek.
“Love you too, Ma,” I said on my way out the door.
* * *
I spentthe afternoon and most of the early evening playing video games with Connor, just like most days, but when I stepped into the caravan that evening, the aroma of hash and cabbage wasn’t there.
But my dad was, and with him being home instead of at the pub, I knew something was wrong. He sat on the couch, his elbows rested on his spread knees. His head hung forward.
No TV. No beer in his lap.
I craned my neck, trying to locate Ma, and the floor creaked. Dad’s head lifted slowly, his tear-filled gaze meeting mine.
“Where’s Ma?”
