Monday, November 24th 2014

Jack had barely stepped into the kitchen before Millie's voice cut through the air like a blade.

'What the fuck is this, Jack?'

Millie stood by the counter, her phone screen facing him. Even from a distance, he recognised the image immediately—the group in the parochial hall, the 'Vote No' posters, his mother beaming with pride at the front. His own face staring back at him. The same face he had stared at in horror when he first saw the post, fingers shaking as he untagged himself. As if that would erase it.

As if that would mean it never happened.

But it had. And now, so had this.

Ciarán was at the table, arms crossed, silent. A sour puss thrown in Jack's direction, as usual. Millie's angry expression was new though, and made him feel much worse.

His chest felt tight. He had spent the entire bus ride from Galway worrying that this conversation was coming, his mind twisting itself in knots, running through ways he could explain it. Lie. Downplay it. Twist it. Make them believe it wasn't real.

But now, standing in front of them, it felt like his tongue had turned to lead.

'It's not what it looks like,' he forced out eventually, although the words felt hollow even as he said them.

Millie scoffed. 'Oh really? Because it looks like you're standing there, grinning, campaigning against people like me and Ciarán. While we've been letting you into our lives like fucking idiots.'

Jack ran a hand through his hair, gripping at the roots. His pulse was hammering, his face burning. Stay calm. 'It's not like that.'

Millie's voice was quieter this time. Not angry. Hurt. 'Then what is it like?'

Jack swallowed. His throat was dry. 'It's... complicated.'

Millie blinked at him, incredulous. 'Right. Well, uncomplicate it. Because right now, Jack, it looks like you're full of shite.'

Ciarán still hadn't spoken. Just sat there. Watching. Waiting. Jack felt heat rise under his collar, shame curling like smoke in his chest. His fists clenched at his sides, not out of anger, but out of sheer, suffocating frustration. 'I didn't have a choice,' he muttered.

Millie let out a breathy laugh, shaking her head. 'There's always a choice, Jack. And you chose to stand there. You chose to hold that sign.'

'You don't get it,' Jack snapped.

'No, Jack,' Millie said, stepping forward, her voice sharper now. 'You don't get it. You live with a lesbian and a fucking drag queen. We let you into our home, into our space, and this is what you think of us?'

Jack flinched. 'I don't—'

'Would you vote against us, Jack?' Ciarán's voice was quiet. Too quiet. Jack's stomach dropped. He opened his mouth. Nothing came out. The silence stretched too long.

Millie exhaled, running a hand over her face. 'Jesus fucking Christ.'

Jack felt like he was suffocating. He hadn't prepared for this. For the direct question. The one that forced him to pick a side. He could feel the walls closing in.

'I don't know,' he croaked.

Millie stared at him like she didn't recognise him anymore.

Ciarán's jaw tightened. 'You don't know?'

Jack's breath was unsteady. 'It's not that simple.'

'It is that simple,' Millie said, voice rising now. 'It's a fucking yes or no question. Would you vote against us?'

Jack forced out a bitter laugh, but it was shaky, humourless. 'I just— I don't know, okay? I don't fucking know. I don't get a choice in this. My mother—'

'Oh, fuck off with your mother, Jack,' Millie snapped. His jaw locked. 'You're a grown fucking man. You get to make your own decisions. You don't get to hide behind her.'

Jack felt something snap. 'You don't know what it's like,' he muttered, voice shaking. 'To be her son. To be in that town. To have that pressure. You don't—' His breath hitched. 'You don't understand what I have to lose.'

Silence. Jack's hands were shaking. His chest was heaving. Millie was breathing heavily, her eyes shining with something too close to disappointment. Jack felt like he was falling.

Then—

'Then maybe you should grow a fucking spine and stop running for once.' Her voice was quieter now. Meaner. Something lodged itself in Jack's throat. 'Running away. From who you are. From everything. Just like you ran from Paul.'

Everything stopped. Jack's body turned to stone. His ears rang. No.

'What?' His voice was barely a whisper.

Millie scoffed. 'Oh, don't play dumb.' Jack's stomach twisted violently. 'Savannah's Halloween party,' Millie continued, her expression unreadable. 'I saw you. I saw you and Paul.' She tilted her head slightly. 'I saw you kiss him.'

Jack's pulse exploded. His breath caught in his throat. His fingers twitched at his sides, restless, like his body was preparing to run before his mind could catch up. His ears were ringing. His vision blurred. She saw them. She fucking saw them.

'You're so fucking scared of yourself, it's actually pathetic.'

Jack jerked backward, his feet unsteady beneath him. 'You don't know what you're talking about,' he said, but his voice was weak. Unconvincing.

Millie folded her arms, tilting her head. 'Don't I?'

'Millie-' began Ciarán, but she swatted her hand dismissively in his direction.

Jack felt like he was suffocating. He needed her to stop talking. Needed this conversation to end before it crashed down on him completely.

'You think I didn't see it? The way you looked at him? That wasn't just a drunken mistake, Jack. That was—'

'Millie, stop,' Ciarán cut in, his voice sharper than before. But she didn't stop.

'You can lie to yourself all you want, but we all see it. You're—'

'Enough!' Ciarán pushed his chair back, standing between them now, a rare edge in his voice. 'Leave it. He's not—'

Jack's chest caved in. He felt like he was choking. 'You don't get to fucking speak for me!' Jack shouted, his voice raw, breaking at the edges. He hadn't even realised he was moving until his body lurched away from them, towards his room, towards anywhere but where he was.

He stormed to his room, slamming the door behind him so hard the walls rattled. His breaths were ragged, coming too fast, his vision blurring as he stumbled towards his bed. His legs gave out before he even reached it. He sat there, back against the door, fists clenched in his lap, his whole body trembling. And then, suddenly, the weight of it all crashed down at once.

The photo. The referendum. His mother. The kiss. Paul. The way Millie had looked at him. Like she had figured him out before he had.

Jack squeezed his eyes shut, his throat burning. His shoulders shook, and he brought a hand to his face, gripping his hair, trying to steady himself.

He wasn't. He couldn't be.

But then why did it feel like his chest was caving in? Why did it feel like he was running from something he already knew? Jack pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes, but it didn't stop the tears from slipping through.