I Confess

‘You were supposed to be in school!’ said Johnny. ‘The one day we’re in Cork trying to get stuff done—’

‘I don’t know why he had to call you,’ said Dylan.

‘Here’s why,’ said Johnny. ‘Health and safety. The chapel’s a building site, basically, you had no hard hats on you—’

‘Hard hats,’ said Dylan. He rolled his eyes. ‘Mally thought the whole thing was—’

‘Why would I care what Mally thinks?’ said Johnny.

Dylan looked at Edie. ‘Seriously, Mom … what is his problem with her?’

‘I don’t have a problem with Mally,’ said Johnny.

Dylan’s phone beeped. He took it out of his pocket, and read the WhatsApp message. ‘Well, I can’t not go now,’ he said. ‘Because Mally’s already on her way over here. In the rain. I can’t suddenly go “Oh sorry – go home. Oh – and I can’t come back with you later.”’

Edie turned to Johnny, her eyebrows raised. He gave her a resigned look.

‘So she’s going to be here for the day while your mother’s trying to get the place ready for tonight?’ said Johnny.

‘They’ll be over at the house,’ said Edie.

‘Obviously,’ said Dylan. He looked at Johnny. ‘Can I go now?’

‘Yes,’ said Edie.

‘And can I go over to Mally’s later?’ said Dylan.

‘Yes,’ said Edie.

‘Thanks, Mom.’ He walked across the hall and they waited for him to disappear down the stairs.

‘Why do you always have to do that?’ said Johnny.

‘Oh, good God,’ said Edie. ‘Grow up. What is your issue with him going over there, all of a sudden? I don’t want to have to deal with any meltdowns tonight, and if he’s over there—’

‘She’s a bad influence on him,’ said Johnny. ‘She always ’s just in your face. She’s … nosy. She’s …’

Edie gave him a patient look.

‘Look – I know she’s no fan of mine,’ said Johnny, ‘but that’s not the point. They’re always … whispering and skulking about the place.’

‘For God’s sake,’ said Edie. ‘They’re sixteen. Well …’

‘And that’s the other thing – why is a nineteen-year-old college girl hanging out with a sixteen-year-old boy? It’s weird.’

Edie raised an eyebrow. ‘From the twenty-one-year-old with his eye on the sixteen-year-old?’

‘That’s different. And … different times.’ He put his hands on his hips. ‘And what makes you think he’s going to have a meltdown?’

‘Look at him,’ said Edie. ‘He’s exhausted.’

‘Because he was up all night watching Netflix!’ said Johnny. ‘He knows this is a big night, it’s important to you, and—’

‘Well, I hope it’s important to you too—’

‘Oh, for fuck’s sake. I said “you” because he doesn’t give a shit what I think. ‘He needs to get his head out of his arse!’

‘He’s sixteen,’ said Edie. ‘He’s cripped with—’

‘Oh God,’ said Johnny. ‘Anxiety – the Get Out of Jail card—’

Edie stared at him.

‘Sorry,’ said Johnny. ‘But if he really had no control over his emotions, how am I the one who gets Angry Dylan and you get sad face? Or “Hugs”?’

‘We’re not getting into—’

‘No,’ said Johnny. ‘But—’

Edie shook her head. ‘No—’

‘You know what you should do,’ said Johnny, ‘show him some of your “research” photos from the industrial school with those skinny little bastards running around out there – not a Netflick to their names.’

‘He’s already been rooting through my research,’ said Edie.

‘Jesus Christ. No wonder he has anxiety.’

‘Why do you have such a problem with it?’ said Edie.

‘Because it freaks you out,’ said Johnny.

‘It doesn’t freak me out,’ said Edie. ‘And I don’t have time for this. I have too much to do.’

‘I told you we should have got one of the chefs in,’ said Johnny. ‘We should have got staff in, full stop.’

‘We’re not going to get staff in when we’re closed for the season,’ said Edie. ‘And we’d have to pay them. But the main thing, I told you, was that I wanted to make an effort for my friends – which I still do. I just need time.’

‘Fine,’ said Johnny. ‘I’ll leave you to it.’ He turned to walk away.

‘Johnny – wait,’ said Edie.

He looked back. His eyes were bright with hope and Edie wondered what he thought she was going to say. ‘Just …’ she said. ‘Stop … waiting for him to change.’

Johnny frowned. ‘What?’

‘Dylan is all of what you see – the weight, the anxiety, the insecurity. But it’s Dylan – aged sixteen. It might not be Dylan at eighteen or twenty or twenty-five. But … what if it is? I’m saying – if you’re waiting for him to go back to being the happy little bunny … well …’ She paused. ‘Maybe that won’t happen.’

She raised her chin, blinked and hoped Johnny wouldn’t notice she was fending off tears.