“I was hit in the head with a dictionary and all of a sudden I have all these words in my head. Like concussion, hallucination, malnutrition …” He slammed the dictionary shut. “Like, seriously, is there any food here? I’m starving.”
I flicked him with a tea towel. “Mind your manners, mister. We’re fixing that today, actually. The McGees are coming over to help us out with the menu.”
“McGees?” Adam straightened and rubbed his stomach.
“The McGees.” I said with a smile.
Adam’s brow furrowed as he looked over the dictionary again. “I haven’t seen them in ages.”
“Yeah, well, maybe you would have if you weren’t such a snob.”
Adam’s eyes snapped up, his face darkening. “Snob?”
“You’re the one who ran off and doesn’t keep in touch with anyone.”
“It’s called the army,” he said in his defence.
“So what? No phones or computers in the army?”
“You’re sounding more and more like Aunty Claire every time I see you.”
My grin fell. Adam’s words were like a slap in the face – I knew I hadn’t exactly been thrilled about being compared to my father but when it came to being compared to my mother (and not in a complimentary way), it didn’t sit well at all. Adam must have read it all over my face.
“Dis-tract: Verb. To draw away or divert the mind.” Adam nodded as if what he was reading was truly fascinating.
I gave him a bored look before I grabbed for the book and spun it around towards me. I read with intense concentration.
“Hmm.” I tapped my chin, and then honed in on one particular word and smiled.
“Uh-oh.” Adam said with a smirk.
I cleared my throat. “Dis-turb: Verb. To interrupt the quiet, rest or peace, to throw in commotion or agitate; disorder; unsettle: to disturb the working of a program or disturb someone’s sleep.”
“Does it say, ‘resulting in being clobbered to death by a dictionary’?” Adam asked.
“That’s exactly what it says.”
“Forgive me if I am rather dubious; you can look that up if you want. Du-bee-us.” Adam stood and pushed in his stool. “I’m heading down the street for something to eat. Do you want anything?”
“No thanks.”
He went to open the door, but moved aside as it swung open, nearly hitting him in the face as a rather dishevelled Chris slumped in the doorway. His clothes from yesterday were creased and he wore dark sunnies inside. He looked ten kinds of hungover and I couldn’t help but smile.
“Worst. Night’s. Sleep. Ever,” he said, groaning.
“With a side of hangover?” Adam looked over his older brother, revelling in his discomfort.
Chris flipped his sunnies onto his forehead and squinted his bloodshot eyes as if he had only just noticed Adam standing next to him.
“So, the prodigal son returns.” Chris half laughed before putting his sunnies back into place.
“In good time, I see.”
Chris scoffed and pushed Adam out of the way as he skulked his way inside.
“I wish my head hurt for the same reason yours does,” said Adam.
I threw him a dark look – the last thing I wanted to go through with Chris was another one of my recent bursts of violence. I seemed to be demonstrating them a lot lately.
Adam winked before opening the door. “Just going down the street, do you want anything, Chris? Cow tongue wrapped in tripe and dipped in beer batter?”
Chris, who by now was slumped with his forehead to the bar, managed to exert enough energy to flip Adam the finger.
Adam caught it and clutched it to his heart as if he had been blown a kiss. “God, I’ve missed this place.” And with the screech of the door and the sound of Adam’s animated whistling flowing into the distance, he was gone.
“Sean has an uncomfortable couch, then?” I asked.
Chris lifted his head with a groan. “What bloody couch?”
I giggled, reached for a pint glass and filled it with water. “How did you get home?”
With a shaky hand, Chris carefully concentrated as he gulped down a mouthful, before gasping his answer. “Sean dropped me off.”
I paused.
He didn’t come in?
My first reaction was disappointment, although I couldn’t think of it that way. It was just a response because I had wanted to talk to him about the working bee. That’s what it was. Tess hadn’t mentioned what part Sean had said he would play, even though he had done more than his fair share in helping and no doubt had other things to do – like actual paid work.
I then replayed yesterday in my head. Maybe I had offended him in some way? The invitation to hang at his house last night hadn’t been extended to me. The other girls had been invited so it obviously wasn’t a boys’ night, but not me. I tried to tell myself that I was grateful for the peace away from his smart-arse contributions, but maybe he felt the same way? Maybe he was glad to be away from the cranky, high-maintenance publican’s daughter? Maybe he had just wanted to give the working bee and me a wide berth? I was lost in my thoughts and none of them made me feel anything other than disappointed. I needed to get a grip – far too much energy was being spent thinking about Sean Murphy.