Phases

“Don’t talk to me like that!”

“Like what?”

Jimmy Brady looked at his son. He leaned back in his chair and sucked his breath in in sharp little gasps before exhaling in a long, loud, frustrated sigh. He made a face, placed both his hands on the table as if to steady himself, and then, raising his head slowly, he looked at Sean once more. When he spoke this time his tone was even, placatory.

“Look, son, this is getting none of us anywhere. You mightn’t realise it, but your attitude leaves a lot to be desired. Every time I try to talk to you it ends up in an argument. I’m sick of it. You’ll have to learn to take things easy.”

Sean remained silent. He stared sullenly at his father; then anger flared for a second in his eyes. Words flowed out in an angry torrent.

“Why is it always me has to take things easy? I can’t do anything these days without you giving off to me. You’re never off my back! You’re sick of it? How do you think I feel?”

They were seated, facing each other across the dinner table. Jimmy could feel the temper rising inside him. Once again he strove to remain calm. But when Sean pointed his finger at him he snapped.

“Don’t do that! How many times have I to tell you not to talk to me like that?”

He kicked his chair back and leaned across the table, towering over Sean. “I’m your father and I deserve more respect than this from you. I’d be better off falling in drunk every night, abusing your mother and gambling away my wages. You’d think more of me then, wouldn’t you?”

He was shouting at the top of his voice. As Sean rose to face him Mary rushed in from the kitchen where she was preparing the evening meal. “What in the name of God’s wrong now? Yis have the place like a madhouse. What’s the matter with the two of youse? Yis are like two wee children!”

“That’s right, Ma, you pick on me as well!” Sean retorted, stepping away from the table to face both his parents.

“I’m no wee child, Mary. I’m his father and he’ll not behave like that in my house,” Jimmy protested. “It’s you has him the way he is. And you…” he turned on Sean again: “that’s no way to talk to your mother. I don’t want another word out of you.”

“It’s a pity I’m not a dummy, isn’t it? You’d be happy then, wouldn’t you?”

“Sean, shut your mouth!”

“What’ll you do if I don’t? Eh? What’ll you do? Put me to bed early! I’m no wee kid, Da. You can’t boss me about any longer.”

“Sean,” his mother interrupted him, “Sean, please. Please sit down and have your dinner.”

“No, Ma. I’m going down to Mickey’s. I know where I’m not welcome.”

“Ach, Sean,” Mary pleaded, “don’t be going out without your dinner. Jimmy, get him to stay. This is not right, a father and son getting on like this. Jimmy, please. You should have more sense. You never give the lad an earthly.”

“That’s what’s wrong in this house, woman,” Jimmy yelled at her. He left his place at the table and advanced towards Sean who defiantly stood his ground in the centre of the room. Mary rushed between them. She faced her husband, pushing him in the chest as she screamed at her son.

“That’s enough, Sean. Go on away down to Mickey’s. You can get your dinner later.”

Sean rushed from the room, choking on his tears. “I don’t want any dinner,” he shouted.

Jimmy strained against his wife, but she stood firm. He turned from her in disgust.

“Dinner, I’d give him dinner! It’s a good toe up the hole he wants and not sympathy from you. It’s you has him the way he is. I’m sick telling you not to take his part. How do you expect him to pay any heed to me when you keep butting in and undermining me?” Jimmy slumped on to the settee by the fire. He buried his face in his hands.

“I’m sick of it,” he said.

Mary knelt beside him.

“I’m sick of it, too,” she said. “I don’t know what I’m going to do with the two of youse.” She took his hands in hers. They hung together in silence until eventually Mary eased herself up off her knees.

“You’ve me murdered,” she joked, tousling his hair. “I’ve a cramp in my thigh.”

She rubbed her leg energetically. “Come on and cheer up,” she told him. “Your dinner will be freezing.”

“I don’t want any, Mary,” Jimmy said moodily, “I don’t feel like eating just now.”

“Well, I don’t know what to do to please youse. I rushed in early to make sure the two of youse got…”

Jimmy interrupted her with a fierceness which took her aback.

“There you go again, woman. It’s not the two of us. I’m not the same as Sean. He’s only fifteen. I’m his father. You’re always going on about ‘the two of us’. That’s some way to instil discipline in him, isn’t it? He doesn’t do a hand’s turn around the house. He leaves everything at his arse. He treats the place like a hotel, and you, more fool anyway, you’re like his servant, and the only time he speaks to me is to be cheeky or to ask for something. And what’s your answer to it all?”

He looked at her with contempt.

“You talk about the two of us as if me and him were two wee lads who fell out. It’s no wonder he’s the way he is!”

Mary fought back the tears.

“Why don’t you try talking to him?” she said. “You were never like this with our Damian or Joseph when they were Sean’s age.”

“They never got on like him,” Jimmy retorted. “They weren’t spoiled.”

“And Sean’s not spoiled either,” Mary continued. “No more than any of the rest of them. He’s not a bad lad. He’s just going through a wee phase. You can’t expect him to be any different than all the others. It’s just that he’s the youngest and the only one here, and he thinks he’s a big fella now. Why don’t you and him have a wee talk. It can’t go on like this. I can’t cope with it.”

She could hold back the tears no longer. As she turned sobbing and retreated into the kitchen, Jimmy softened. He followed her in and took her in his arms.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Don’t be crying. I’ll talk to Sean when he comes in. All right?”

Sean was slightly smaller than his father, but by the way he was growing Jimmy guessed that it wouldn’t be long until he was dwarfed by his youngest son. Sean was taller already than his older brothers. “That’s maybe why I’m so sore on him,” Jimmy reflected. “He looks much older than he is, and I’m probably expecting him to behave like someone older.”

They were sitting together in the living room watching the football on television. It was the Saturday after the big row. In the two days since then barely a word had passed between them. Mary was out shopping. On her way out she had whispered to Jimmy as he stood in the hallway waiting to lock the front door after her, “Now’s the time for you and Sean to have a wee yarn.”

Jimmy knew she was right. He had always been able to talk to his children. He and Sean had actually enjoyed a special relationship, mostly, as Mary said, because he gave Sean the time he hadn’t been able to give the others. They had got on great until about nine months ago. Since then, Jimmy smiled wryly to himself, it had been a murder picture.

He glanced across at Sean. “H’y doing, son?”

“I’m all right.”

“Sean, son, it’s about time we had a wee yarn. I’ve been…”

“It’s a bit late to be thinking about a wee yarn now, Da, isn’t it?” Sean interrupted him gruffly.

“What do y’mean?” Jimmy was just as gruff.

They looked directly at one another.

“Look, Sean,” Jimmy said, “I only want us to talk. Now, if you don’t want to talk that’s fair enough. But we’ll have to talk sometime. We can’t go on not talking or bawling at one another all the time. So it’s up to you. I’m not going to coax you and I’m certainly not going to fight with you. This is my day off and I’ve better things to do. So what do you say?”

“Okay,” Sean conceded sullenly, “we’ll talk.”

“You’ll have to do better than that,” Jimmy smiled patiently. “Let’s start by making friends.” He reached his hand out to Sean, who hesitated only for an instant before grasping his father’s hand in a warm, firm handshake. They both smiled.

“That’s better,” Jimmy smiled. “Do you fancy a cup of tea?”

“Aye, Da, I don’t mind if I do. Like, you don’t have to go ´.”

“I’ll tell you what, Sean. Do you see, every boy…” Jimmy paused for a minute as he concentrated on squeezing the last drop of brown moisture from the teabags.

“There you are.” He pushed a cup over to Sean. They were standing in the kitchen. Sean was buttering toast. He put a few slices on a plate for his father and they adjourned again to the living room.

“Where was I?” Jimmy asked him through a mouthful of hot toast.

“You were about to give me one of your fatherly talks,” Sean said. “You’d do it with a bit more dignity if you hadn’t a big blob of butter dribbling down your chin. Will I get you a bib?” he laughed.

“Somebody swallowed a dictionary. Dignity? That’s a new word for you.”

Jimmy wiped his chin and waited until his son’s laughter ceased.

“What I was about to say was that every boy goes through certain phases with his father. Phase number one is when his father is a hero. He can do no wrong. No other boy’s father is half as good as yours. He can outrun, outthink and beat just everybody else at everything. You know what I mean?”

Jimmy smiled at Sean a little self-consciously.

“You know, like, up to the time when you start school and for a few years after that.”

Sean shifted in his seat.

“Well,” his father continued as he finished off the last of the toast, “as I said, that’s phase number one. Phase number two comes much later. That’s when every boy wonders how he could have been cursed with such an awful da. That happens to every boy also. You know what I mean. Your da picks on you all the time. He embarrasses you in front of your friends. He thinks he knows everything and that you know nothing. He treats you like a child. Well, that’s the second phase. Phase number three? Phase number three is the last phase. That’s when the boy becomes a man and realises that his da is just the same as him.”

Jimmy handed his empty cup to Sean.

“That’s the three phases, son,” he concluded. “And now that we’re muckers again, do you think you could get your oul’ lad a wee taste of tea and another round of that toast, seeing as you ate the most of it.”

Sean grinned as he took the cup.

“No problem, Da,” he said. “No problem.”

Mary knew that things would be back to normal again when she returned home. Her only worry was that Sean wouldn’t give Jimmy the chance to talk to him, but she thought that was unlikely. The way the two of them were behaving after two days of not talking, it was only a matter of someone breaking the ice, and she was sure Jimmy would do that. For all their annoyance at each other Mary knew none of them enjoyed the breakdown in their relationship.

Sean met her in the hall and took the trio of bulging plastic shopping bags from her.

“All right, Ma?” he said. “I hope you’ve something nice there for me; me da’s ate all the bread and I’m starving.”

“Is that right, son?” Despite her optimism, she conceded a wee sigh of relief.

She followed Sean into the kitchen where his father was busily washing the dishes.

“Ah, Mary,” he greeted her, “just in time to make us a big fry.”

“Bloody men!” she answered good-humouredly. “I suppose youse would’ve starved if I hadn’t come back. What would youse do if I ran away?”

Later, as all three of them bustled about the kitchen preparing the meal, she turned to Jimmy.

“I suppose you think you’re great now that you and your son are talking again,” she said quietly.

“Indeed I do,” he grinned.

“So do I,” she agreed.

That’s the way it was for about a fortnight. All peace and harmony. Then one Wednesday evening when Jimmy came in the door from work, Sean rushed past him in the hall and charged upstairs. When he came back down Jimmy was seated at the fire with his dinner on a tray on his knee.

“You’re like a herd of elephants going up the stairs,” he said.

“She left my jeans up there,” Sean replied sulkily, making his way past his father to the kitchen. He had his jeans in his hand.

“Who’s ‘she’?” Jimmy asked.

There was no reply. Sean had gone on into the kitchen and didn’t hear his father.

“Who’s ‘she’?” Jimmy asked again, louder and with an edge to his voice. Silence. He put his tray on the floor in front of him.

“Sean!” he yelled. Still no response. The kitchen door opened. Jimmy, halfway out of his chair, could hear Sean and his mother talking in the kitchen.

“Sean!” he yelled.

“What on earth’s the matter?” Mary’s tone was annoyed. That irritated Jimmy even more.

“I was talking to him and he walked right past me,” he snapped. “Sean.”

“What, Da?” Sean’s voice was heavy with sarcasm.

“Don’t ‘what-Da’me.” Jimmy was on his feet. “Who’s ‘she’?” he confronted Sean.

“What?”

“Don’t ‘what’ me, Sean. I’m not an eejit. Who’s ‘she’? Is that any way to talk to your mother?”

“I don’t know what you’re on about,” said Sean.

“Don’t mess with me, Sean,” Jimmy yelled at him.

Sean exploded.

“Don’t mess with you! You’re the one that’s doing all the messing. I’m sick of this.” He turned to his mother. “I’m sick of this, Ma! He’s never off my back.”

Jimmy was almost beside himself with rage now.

“Who’s ‘she’?” he roared. “You need to be taught a bit of respect.”

“I’m trying to go out, Da,” Sean roared back. “You…”

“You’ll go out when I tell you and not before,” his father interrupted.

“Is that right,” Sean shouted. “Well then, I’ll not go out at all! I’m away up the stairs, Ma.” He brushed past his father.

“Sean!” Jimmy commanded.

Sean ignored him and rushed from the room, slamming the door in his wake.

“Jesus, give me patience!” Jimmy cried.

He sat back heavily in his seat. His dinner, growing cold on the tray, lay ignored at his feet. He looked up at Mary.

“Take it easy, Jimmy,” she said. “I don’t know about you, but I can’t take much more of this. You want to watch your temper,” she concluded as she, too, left the room.

Upstairs she confronted Sean.

“Go you down the stairs this minute and apologise to your father.”

“Why should I apologise to him?” Sean was lying on his bed. She could see he had been crying. He looked at her indignantly as he spoke.

“Because I said so,” Mary heard herself say. The words were out of her before she realised it, words she had heard so often from her own parents, words she had promised herself she would never use to her own children. Now having said them she was committed. “Sean. I’m not going to let this go on a minute longer.”

“You always take his side.”

“Sean, I’m not putting up with any of your oul’ nonsense. Get up, wash your face and don’t take all night about it, and then go down and see your da.”

She paused for a minute. Sean sat up and edged to the side of the bed. She tousled his hair with her hand.

“Come on,” she coaxed him. “You and your da shouldn’t be fighting. Go and see him before things get worse, and then when you’ve made the peace, go on out like you planned. Okay?”

Sean started to protest.

“Sean, please,” she silenced him. “Do it for me. Please.”

Sean rolled his eyes and sighed resignedly. “Okay, Ma.”

“Good boy,” she said.

Downstairs she faced her husband. He looked at her sullenly.

“Jimmy, Sean’s sorry about losin’ his temper. He’s coming down now to talk to you. Try and be patient. He was rushing to go out. Let him make peace and go on out.”

“Mary, I’m only in after working hard all day. He can’t…” Jimmy started to protest.

“Jimmy, please,” she silenced him. “Do it for me. Please.”

Jimmy looked at her for a long, silent minute.

“Please,” she repeated.

“Okay, love.”

“Give’s your dinner,” she said. “I’ll heat it up for you. Here he comes now. Take it easy, won’t you?” She smiled anxiously at him.

“Okay.” Despite himself he smiled back at her. “Don’t worry.”

“Thanks, love.”

She took the tray from him and as she did she touched him lightly on the cheek. She headed for the kitchen as Sean’s footsteps were heard on the stairs. He walked hesitantly into the living room to his father.

“I’m sorry, Da,” he said.

Jimmy stared at him for an instant.

“I don’t know what gets into you, son.”

“I said I’m sorry, Da,” Sean repeated uncomfortably.

Jimmy got up slowly from his seat. He offered Sean his hand.

“Okay, son,” he said. “We’ll let it go for tonight.”

Sean took his father’s hand.

“I am sorry, Da,” he repeated.

“Dead on, Sean,” Jimmy forgave him. “Let it go. I was a bit under pressure myself.”

The tension between them was broken.

“We’ll have to stop fighting, son.”

“I know, Da. I’m going to go on out. Is that all right?”

“No problem. By the way, son,” Jimmy was teasing, “what was wrong with you? Is your love life not going right?”

Sean had turned to go. With his hand on the doorknob he paused and looked back at Jimmy.

“No, da. My love life’s dead on. I’m just going through phase two.”