Man of 10 Years
‘Always respect 10 year olds. Always.’
I talk to meself in the mirror sometimes. When the house is all empty and echoey. And I’m always tellin’ meself I’ll forever respect 10 year olds. In case I grow up and forget. Most people grow up and forget, far as I can see. Maybe old people have so many worries that it shoves important things out of their wrinkly grey heads.
It bugs me. 10 year olds are not babies. We can sense people’s problems in their walk and their talk. We’re like dogs. If there’s a stench of trouble on you, it can’t be hid. May as well just tell us what’s goin’ on.
Best I can do is promise Mirror Me every day that if I ever have a child I’ll talk normal to them. Be straight with them, y’know? And I definitely won’t just pick them up from school on a hail-stoned Wednesday and drive to Nana’s and say ‘this is where we live now, Lukey love’.
One thing I’m learning, mainly from listening ‒ secretly, on the stairs ‒ to Mam and Nana talking in the kitchen, is that kids are resilient. Rez-ill-yint. Nana says it to Mam when Mam cries.
‘Ah, Emma, they do be very resilient at that age.’
‘He’ll make new friends ‒ Luke’s a resilient youngfella.’
‘Children are very resilient, Ems, he’s probably forgot most of what happened already.’
Kids are resilient. It’s something old people tell each other so they don’t have to feel guilty. I looked it up on me phone ‒ got the spelling totally wrong. But it means you can give us loads of stress and we won’t break. Like one of them bluey see-through shatter-proof rulers.
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‘Always respect 10 year olds. Always.’
The more I stare into the mirror, the more I can kinda make out me abs. Swear I’m getting a six-pack. But I’m still a bit ‘heavy set’, as Nana would say. I get all these videos on me phone now on how to get perfect abs. And I do bicep curls with cans of beans, and then I eat the beans ‘cos they’re rammed with proteins. I’m going to get like Ronaldo and McGregor. Eight-pack.
Last time I saw Dad I asked him if he could see me abs. Said nothing for ages ‘cos he gets all sleepy sometimes. Like he’s dreamin’ with his eyes open. I shouldn’t have kept asking him because he said it makes him mad when I don’t shut me trap. Said I was a ‘round little runt’. Said I looked like I’d grow tits sooner than I’d get abs. That was the night him and Mam got in their big scrap. That’s why we moved to Nana’s, I think. It wasn’t the first fight that week but they were shouting the worst bad words and crying loads.
Mam already guaranteed me that I will get abs when I’m a teenager and not to be worrying about it. She used to be right about everything. I hope she’s right about this.
The next night I’m sleeping in Nana’s grey-walled box room and I have a new Superman toothbrush. Bit babyish maybe. But he has a serious set of abs on him, Superman. Totally ripped. I got new Superman jammies as well. Jesus, I love them. But I wouldn’t wear them to a sleepover, if I ever got invited to one. And I got a three-pack of pants (dinosaurs, embarrassing) and new socks (Minecraft, fine). That’s all the clothes I have right now but I’m getting more when Mam gets money or if she can sneak back into the flat where Dad lives.
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I go to a mixed school near Nana’s now. Boys and girls. First week in, I met Holly. She’s new as well, and proper funny. Holly tells the truth. About everything. Told me her Dad is dead and her Mam goes into hospital on the regular. Holly doesn’t know whether her Mam is sad because she drinks too much or if her Mam drinks too much because she’s sad. ‘Six of one,’ she says, but I’m not sure what that’s supposed to mean. Showed me a faded circle on her hand where a cigarette burned her years ago. I’m ragin’ all me marks are gone. It’s all pain, no gain for me.
Some days in Nana’s I put me hand on the kitchen rad and see how long I can keep it there. It’s hoppin’ hot. I hold it tight and concentrate on other things: Mam, Dad, Nana, abs, Holly, Marvel, blood, YouTube, punches, Toosla, United, Guards, court, Roblox, MMA, Fuck! It’s good to be able to take the hand off when the pain gets too much. Like I’m the Master of Pain. But if I could leave it long enough to get a scar, I’d have something to show for me tortures, y’know? It wouldn’t be a lie, really. I’m entitled to be marked.
Holly was in a ‘care home’ last summer when her Mam was sick ‒ ‘It wasn’t home and they didn’t care’, she says. But now she lives with her Nana as well. Bein’ a Nana is a full-time job. It’s not like on telly when they show up at Christmas with presents and hugs.
Holly says her Nana is mad old and doesn’t give a shite what anyone thinks. She just ‘tells it like it is’. Which means she’s rude but nobody minds. That’s an old people thing. Mam says our Nana was always that way, like she’s been in training for her old age since she was a girl. Wish I could tell it like it is, but I’m not sure adults are resilient enough to hear how I’m feelin’. Better to give Mam a bit more time to get used to this ‘brand new life’ she tells me about, wearing her big sad smile.
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Nana asks me every day, more than once, did I make a friend at school. Woman’s obsessed. That means she talks about it all the time. Holly taught me that word and I told her about resilient.
‘Here’s the man of the house now. School good? Any pals yet?’
I was kinda glad ‒ relieved ‒ to tell Nana about Holly. But Nana acts like Holly doesn’t count. ‘Oh, he has himself a little girlfriend now,’ she says, and pucks me in the arm. I might not talk about Holly any more to adults. Holly says grown-ups are always goin’ on about boyfriends and girlfriends. When she was in playschool, the teacher did a pretend wedding for Holly and this ginger-freckled lad called Liam. Her mistake was to share crayons with him, she said. All of a sudden they had Holly in a little veil made of crepe paper and Liam with a pipe-cleaner flower on his jacket, and the teacher playin’ Here Comes The Bride on her phone.
Now everyone’s making a big deal about me and Holly like they want me to be her boyfriend. But Holly says it all changes when you’re a teenager. When you’re a teenager, adults suddenly don’t want boys and girls to be friends at all. Holly’s sister’s 14. She was hanging out with fellas from her school and the Nana gave out stink to the lads when they called to the house. ‘Dirty little scuts!’ Nanas all say ‘boys only want one thing’, and they push their lips out and shake their heads when they say it. I’m a boy. Unless the ‘one thing’ is a killer set of abs, I’m not sure what they are on about.
Marrying off four year olds and complaining about teenagers hangin’ out together. Adults can’t make up their minds about some things.
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Me Nana is more happy about me making friends with boys on her road though. Boys like Leo and his brother and the brother’s friends. Leo is 12 but small for his age and he stayed back in school, so he’s only a year ahead of me. Same height as I am, but he’s dead strong, I think. I saw his abs when we had a water fight and he had to take off his United jersey ‘cos his brother was after drenchin’ him. You can count that lad’s ribs through his skin though so he might be more hungry than ripped? I don’t take off me t-shirt even if it’s wet after water fights. Not until me abs come in.
Leo’s brother, Donal, and his friends are dead sound. They have money and cans of coke and cinema-bags of sweets. And they treat me like I’m older. Maybe they tell themselves in the mirror to always respect 10 year olds. There are six or seven of them and they nearly live in Leo’s garage. I told Mam I’d never smoke. Promised her. But she tells me ‘everything’s going to be okay, pet’ and that’s not always true. So, I didn’t feel too bad about having a smoke. Leo was having one anyway. And his brother said to go home if I was going to be a baby about it. The smoke wasn’t even nice. But they were all really happy when I did it, so.
Leo says Donal works for his Dad. But his eyes go weird when he says it. Like it’s a joke or a lie. I don’t know what the Dad does. But remember what I was saying about sniffing out problems? Well, there’s a bang of trouble off the Dad. You can feel him in the house even if you don’t know whether he’s there. If he opens the garage door and calls Donal, everyone goes quiet like he’s the Parish priest. Then sometimes Donal comes back, sits down and says nothing. Other times, he sticks his head back in, nods, and everyone follows him. Except me. That’s when I get sent home.
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I laugh so much in the garage sometimes that the sides of me face and throat are sore. Once I start, I just can’t stop. I get giddy, y’know? But I don’t even get all the jokes. They are always talking about sex stuff. Even though they spend all their time together, Donal and his friends say they ‘get off’ with girls. When and where, I dunno. And what they are supposed to have been doin’, I wouldn’t want to tell you. They take turns saying they’re after ridin’ someone or gettin’ up on a girl from their school. It’s a competition, seems to me. I listen really hard, but to be honest I just laugh when they laugh and shout ‘bullshit’ when they shout bullshit.
‘Knocked the box off her, I did.’
‘Ye did in your hoop, Fogarty!’
‘Fucken did. Goin’ up again tomorrow night. Mad for cock, she is.’
Fogarty is full of shit, in fairness. He says his Dad’s rich and has to work away in London in his computer company. Everyone knows the Dad went to jail in England and then, even when he got out, he never came back here. Nobody even bothers callin’ bullshit when he talks about his Dad having a Maserati. Sometimes the truth is so bad that people leave you with your lies out of pity.
They were playing porn videos on their phone and saying that was what they did to a girl from the estate at the back of ours. I’ve seen sex in films before. Loads of times. I know what it is. But this was something else. All chokin’ each other in one video, and another clip was of an orgy. That’s a new word for me, but I’ll keep it to meself. Not goin’ to impress Holly with that one.
Couldn’t get the video out of me mind though. Never wanted to see it again. But then I looked at more of that stuff when I got home. Felt mad guilty, even though I did nothing to anyone but meself. I can’t imagine ever doing that sex-fight stuff to a girl I like. And I wonder if me willie is too small for sex anyway. It’s not exactly a match for a shatter-proof ruler. Maybe when me abs come in when I get to secondary, I’ll get a 10-incher. That’s what Donal says he has.
The good thing about these videos is I’m starting to understand more of what the older lads are talkin’ about now. It’s like learning a new language so you fit in when you move countries. Probably. I dunno, I haven’t moved countries yet ‒ but Mam could pick me up from school tomorrow and say we’re moving to Finland or England or Manchester. It’s all secrets and surprises when you’re 10.
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Holly sees her Mam every week, like I see me Dad. She goes to the hospital with a social worker for an hour; I go to Dad’s flat with Suzie from Toosla. Suzie from Toosla says she looks out for kids and tries to give them better relationships with their parents. She’s nice, Suzie. But she’s not doing a very good job on me and Dad. It’s only an hour, but it feels like a big long night where you can’t sleep. I look at the Casio watch I got in me Christmas stocking. Dad looks at his phone. Suzie tries to stay in the background but sometimes she says ‘Your Dad might be interested in your new school,’ so I have to say something about that. Like I said, Suzie is sound but she doesn’t know what Dad’s interested in. And neither do I. He’s not interested in new schools anyways.
When it’s over, I feel worse than when I went in. Even though I was looking forward to it. It’s never the way I hope it will be, but tomorrow I’ll probably forget about how long and quiet that hour of brain pain was and I’ll look forward to the next one. Like an idiot.
Dad’s very worried all the time now. When Suzie from Toosla rang the door he took ages to answer. He just roared ‘Who is it t’fuck?’ when she buzzed the second time. Then he opened the door only a small bit and we had to squeeze in like envelopes through a letterbox. He says someone is trying to kill him, but Suzie says that’s his mind playing tricks on him and there’s nothing to worry about. We put another hour in together.
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Leo and Donal ‒ and even their Da ‒ are treating me real good lately. Like I’m just one of them. We all work together now. See, Leo and Donal’s Dad sometimes has to rob houses. He got hurt in work yonks ago and he has no money unless he takes it off rich fucks. Lads in school say he sells drugs as well but I don’t know anything about that.
I just have two small jobs: one is to cycle around estates with Leo to see which houses look empty. Then once ‒ or twice ‒ Leo boosted me in an open window because I’m the youngest in our gang, even if I’m not the lightest. I don’t rob anything. I just open a door once I get inside, and then I leg it. Especially if an alarm goes off. Leo’s Dad has a baton and a knife on him just in case they get caught, so I never want to be there when that happens.
Every time I help I get a tenner from the Da and we all have a little party back in the garage and play Mario Kart and the new Grand Theft Auto. Leo’s Dad is a better Dad than my Dad. He calls me ‘son’ sometimes. We both know I’m not his son, but I like when he does it. Means I’m part of the family, y’know?
I think if I ever got in really big trouble, I could ask Leo or Donal or their Dad to sort it. Like if someone ever jumped me for no reason or to get me back for hopping them after school, Donal would bash them for me. This week, I got mad at a fella in the yard who kept sayin’ things about me Mam. I don’t even remember knocking him down, but I know Mr Green, the 6th class teacher, dragged me off him. Not sure I’d have stopped punchin’ the face off him if Greener wasn’t there. Expected a golden Welterweight Championship Belt. Got detention.
All the teachers look at me like a criminal these days, just because they hear things about me family and because I’ve been getting in fights. Some kids think they’re better than me, even the ones that don’t say it to me face. Broke a shatter-proof ruler on Dylan Harold’s elbow for calling me a scumbag. The screams of him. Dylan needs to build up his resilience.
I’m angry all the time now. Ragin’. Dunno why or when it started. I even called Holly a ‘nosy fucken bitch’ for asking how yesterday’s visit went with Dad. Now she’s not talkin’ to me.
Truth is, the visit went bad. Real bad. Dad wouldn’t sit still. Kept looking out the windows and askin’ me if I was followed. Then he grabbed me by the face with his cigarette hands and started accusin’ me of leadin’ them to his door. Suzie from Toosla shouted ‘stop’ and he flung a Man United cup at her head. She pulled me out of the flat by the arm of me coat. Said she’d call the Guards. Dad was roaring bad things at me about being fat and he said I was a little faggot ‒ which I know I’m not ‘cos I’ve seen all kinds of videos and that stuff’s not for me. It was the way he said it but. And then he shouted things about Mam that made me fingers squeeze into a fist. I wanted to scrab his eyes out and bite through his nose until it came loose behind me teeth.
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I spend loads of time at Leo and Donal’s. Stay over sometimes. Haven’t seen Nana in a couple of days. Mam’s not good. Some of the things people say about her are true. She might be goin’ the way of Holly’s Mam if she doesn’t wise up. I didn’t go to school today. None of us did, and nobody seemed to notice. Teachers enjoyed their bit of peace, I’d say. See, we have a bit of work on this week. Leo and Donal’s Dad needs to get money in a hurry so we have to find at least three houses to do by Friday. It’s not as easy as it sounds, but he’s looking very fucken frowny when we say we only have one, maybe two, that look handy.
So, I got an idea. Good for me, good for him. I told the Dad that we already did all the easy houses around our way. But I said there was another estate with a few ground-floor flats that would be dead easy. We’d just have to take a little spin to where I used to live.
I put the pin code into the gate outside where the apartments are. ‘Clever little fucker!’ said the Dad, rubbing me head when he said it. We were all laughin’, even though I was shakin’ with nerves and me voice was all wobbly. Happy and shittin’ meself, I was.
‘Are you sure this gaff is empty, yeah?’
‘100%,’ I said. ‘I half-know the fella who lives in it. Works in town. Gone all day.’
Place is in darkness, curtains drawn as always. It’s at the end of a row of three-storey buildings: a ground-floor one-bed and a double flat on top. Door is around the side, so nobody can see it. Estate is deserted anyway.
Here we go.
No windows open. I knew there wouldn’t be. It takes Donal’s Dad about 10 seconds to rattle the door open ‒ ‘These locks are fucken joke,’ he whispers, grinning without front teeth. I hang back on me tippy-toes, dancing like a sprinter between warm-ups and the starting gun.
Donal’s Dad strolls into the flat like he’s visitin’ an old friend. Heads straight to the kitchen as if he might stick the kettle on and cut himself a slice of Madeira cake, but instead I hear him pullin’ through drawers and presses. I stay in the hall, on look out.
‘Da, there’s a wallet here with forty quid in it! And a phone!’ Donal shouts.
‘Get the fuck out!’ the Dad roars back. ‘Where there’s a phone, there’s a man.’
Then I see him. Me Dad. Baseball bat raised over his head, runnin’ from the bedroom and cryin’ out of his crazy mind. He floors Donal with a smack to the shoulder. Goes to strike again but his backswing catches a lamp. Bulb smashes, the room dims to match the darkness of the moment.
A deep roar echoes in the air, like a cow close to death. And then Dad’s down, white eyes bulging wide in his head. A puddle of black blood drains from his middle.
‘Go!’ says Leo and Donal’s Dad, pulling his blade from Dad’s back and hauling Donal to his feet.
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I feel guilty. Horrible. Sick in me tummy and in the middle of me heart. Donal has a bruise the size of a sliotar on his shoulder and he can’t lift his arm. Never seen him cry before. I rattle for an hour, wishin’ that bruise was mine.
Maybe tomorrow I’ll feel sad that I don’t have a Dad. Holly always says no Dad is better than a bad Dad. Really hope she’s right. I don’t want to miss havin’ a shit Dad.
All kinds of feelings are churnin’ in me mind and me belly as I go up the stairs to Nana’s spare room. Some of the feelings are nice, and that makes me feel worse than ever.
Tonight I can look at meself in the mirror and know I’m not just some kid that the world happens to. I’m resilient. I’m a man of action.
And when I hold me breath, I can defo see at least two abs hidin’ just under me ribs. I’m growin’ up. But I won’t forget.
Always respect 10 year olds. Always.
Gary Finnegan is a journalist and writer based in County Kildare.