Page 134 of The Secret We Keep
It’s just after three in the afternoon when I finally make my way downstairs. Mum’s got food cooking on the stove, and my dad and brother are sitting at the table.
Honestly, I still feel tired, but today something feels different. I can’t explain it. Maybe it’s alcohol poisoning making me delirious, which, let’s face it, is pretty lame considering I only had nine shots, but the air feels different.
The sounds and smells are strange.
Questioning myself, I look down at my hands to make sure I’m not dreaming.
“She’s alive,” Jerry says mockingly with an air of disappointment.
Nope. Definitely awake.
The grin on Jerry’s face would usually make me cower on the inside, but today it doesn’t. I’m embarrassed Paddy saw me being sick when he brought me home yesterday, but there’s a deep sense of happiness giving me fresh life.
Then I smile, and I know it’s because Paddy O’Keefe ismine.
“Do you have to start this early, Jer? Can’t you at least wait until I’ve eaten?”
I’m not sure where my response comes from.
Judging by the look on his face, he doesn’t either. “Did the leprechaun enjoy watching you making an arse of yourself?”
Letting my shoulders unfurl, I reply, “About as much as he did when he knocked you out.”
Dad chokes on the tea in his hand.
“Food is ready,” Mum sings chirpily, using her go-to attempt to diffuse the tension between me and my brother. Feed us.
Assuming that I’m about to be reprimanded for having a smart mouth with the golden child, I grab a mug and head to the fresh pot of tea on the side. Hearing Jerry mutter something under his breath, I pour as I announce, “I’ll eat upstairs, Mum.” I’m not letting him bring me down today.
“No you won’t,” Dad replies quickly. “Jerry, help your mother.”
“What?” he and I both say at the same time.
My dad looks up at me, and doing something that he’s never done before, he takes my side.Myside. “Come sit, Morgan. Your head must be pounding.”
I look at Mum. Then Jerry. And my feet slowly make their way to the table.
“There,” Dad says gently, before giving Jerry a look which tells him to get on with it.
I don’t know what’s happening, but I have never been on this side of the table, so to speak. “Dad?” My eyes are wide as I watch him.
Resting a hand over mine on the table, he smiles at me warmly. “Are you alright?”
Am I alright?
My parents have made me feel like I’ve lived behind glass, controlling everything to suit them since I left college. And this morning they’re asking me if I’m alright like going out and getting drunk is something I do often?
Where’s the shouting? The argument? The lecture of disapproval?
My lips part, close and part again. “I’m hungry,” I admit, shocked that he seems to care. I can’t remember the last time he was like this with me.
“We knew you would be,” Mum chimes from her spot by the kitchen sink.
Jerry bangs the plates as he takes them out of the cupboard.
“Want some OJ to go with your food?” Mum asks, now drying her hands on a tea towel.
I look at her. “Please.” Slowly, I look back at my dad.
