Then there was Georgie, who was fifteen. My eldest, my only girl … the only girl out of the twenty-five children my brothers and I have fathered.
Sports were out of the question for her because her passion lay with sketching, painting, and, recently, sculpting. The many years of being in her aunt Alannah’s company had rubbed off on her. She started drawing when she was young, and with Alannah’s guidance and her own talent, she could draw a lifelike portrait of someone by the time she was thirteen. She loved art; it was her form of self-expression. She attended a local art class on the weekends to gain more experience for the rare time when she wasn’t around her aunt. Alannah and Bronagh were joined at the hip but even more so since she started dating my twin brother, Damien, many years ago.
“You’re always gonna be lazy if you don’t get your head out of the video games you play all the time.”
Griffin rolled his eyes and grumbled something under his breath.
“What was that?”
“Nothin’, Da,” he grunted. “I just don’t wanna hear ye’ givin’ out to me about playin’ on me games again. You and Ma always get on me case about it.”
“Because you’re always on it.”
“I joined the football team like ye’ both said I had to do,” he protested. “Isn’t that enough?”
“For now, yeah.”
He relaxed, then went back to eating his breakfast.
“What time is your game?”
“Eleven,” Quinn and Griffin replied in unison.
“Is Mom taking you guys?”
Quinn’s lips twitched. “She said you could either take us, or ye’ could go and get the shoppin’ instead.”
I paused. “Grocery shopping?”
Quinn nodded, then smiled at my horrified expression. I never did the grocery shopping. The one and only time I’d done it in the past was an utter disaster. I apparently got the wrong brand of half of the groceries on Bronagh’s list and forgot the rest. She had to go back to the store and get the correct stuff, which put her in a pissy mood for that entire day. It was a horrible experience from start to finish, and I’d do just about anything to get out of it. My kids and my wife knew that.
“I’m taking you guys to the game.”
Griffin snickered. “Thought so.”
Quinn chuckled along with him before inhaling one of his pancakes. I joined them at the table with my food, and we talked about school, sports, and girls while we ate. Recently, both boys had taken a mild interest in girls. It was nothing explicit; they had just started to develop crushes now that they no longer found girls gross.
“Griffin’s got two girlfriends,” Quinn announced as we all finished our food. “They fight over ‘im.”
Griffin’s cheeks burned. “Shut up, Q!”
I frowned at Griffin. “Is that true, Griff?”
“No,” he insisted. “They just like me or somethin’. They follow me around at school and get mad when I talk to one girl and not the other. They aren’t me girlfriends, though. I don’t have one, let alone two.”
“Good,” I said, firmly. “That’s disrespectful to play two girls like that.”
“I know.” Griffin nodded. “We have to be nice to girls and treat them like we’d want a lad to treat Georgie, or you to treat Mom. I remember our talk.”
“You said Mom.” Quinn snickered.
Griffin scowled at him. “It’s only ‘cause I was talkin’ to Da! You say words like ‘im sometimes, too.”
I rolled my eyes.
“It’s not a bad thing to say words how I say them. I know you guys are Irish, but you’re American, too. That’s half of my blood flowing through your veins, and I told you it’s important to know your heritage.”
“Ma said we don’t really have an American heritage ‘cause the country was stolen like forever ago.”
I paused. “Okay, that is true but—”
“We’re Irish, but because of you, we have American heritage,” Quinn cut me off. “We know. Please don’t tell us about it again. I feel like we’re in school when you do.”
I had to keep from smiling. He looked pained at the thought of me lecturing him about my homeland.
“Put your dishes in the dishwasher and go upstairs and clean your rooms,” I said. “Mom won’t let you go to your game if you don’t do your chores.”
Griffin perked up at the prospect of getting out of a soccer game, so I added, “She’ll also confiscate your Xbox, desktop, and phone if she has to keep you home from soccer.”
Griffin grunted as he got to his feet. “She’s evil.”
I snorted as they left the room after taking care of their dishes and mine. I relaxed at the table for a moment, then turned my head when Georgie entered the room, fully dressed in jeans, ankle boots, and a sweater.
“You’ll be too warm wearing a sweater and boots today, baby. It’s warm outside.”
Georgie glanced at me and snorted.
“I’m always freezin’, Da. There’s no such thing as too hot for me. Not in this country, anyway.”
My lips quirked as she moved around the kitchen, cleaning up after Bronagh had made everyone breakfast. That was one of Georgie’s chores; she preferred cleaning the kitchen to the bathrooms. The boys would flip a coin to see who got stuck with toilet duty.
“What are you doing today, sweetheart?”
“I have class at the centre at half ten,” she answered. “Auntie Alannah is collectin’ me on ‘er way. Alex and Joey are comin’ with me.”
“And here I thought you would come to the boys’ game with me to keep me company.”
The look of horror Georgie shot my way cracked me up. Her lips twitched when she realised I was teasing her.
“Will ye’ go and get dressed?” she asked, her brow wrinkled. “You’re too old to be walkin’ around in your boxers like the lads.”
“Too old?” I repeated in outrage. “I’m thirty-eight, you little shit.”
Georgie smirked. “That’s only two years away from forty.”
I scowled. “Evil child.”
“I’m gonna be twenty in five years, does that make you feel worse?”
Pain clutched at my chest.
“Yes,” I answered, rubbing the spot. “It does. You’re my baby.”
“D’ye hear that, Axel?” Georgie hollered. “Daddy just called me a baby!”
I heard movement, then quick paced little footsteps as my youngest son barrelled into the room, wrapping his arms around Georgie’s hips when he crashed into her, making her laugh.
“I told ye’!” Axel said to her. “I told ye’ they think we’re all babies.”
“Ye’ did.” Georgie nodded down at him. “I think Mammy and Daddy are goin’ crazy.”
“Super crazy!”
“Hey,” I teased. “You’re all my babies.”
“He’s lost his mind,” Axel said with a shake of his head. “We should put ‘im in the old people’s home ye’ said he and Mammy are gonna go to someday.”
My jaw dropped, and Georgie burst into laughter.
“Ye’ aren’t supposed to tell them what I said,” she tittered, hugging her brother to her side. “They get upset when we call them old.”
“Ohhh.” Axel nodded. “It’s a secret.”
“A super secret.”
Everything was super to Axel when it was being stressed.
“A super secret.” He nodded and looked like he accepted a mission of some kind. “I got it.”
“A nursing home?” I blinked at my daughter. “Really?”
She smiled wide, and it warmed my heart.
She was the picture of her mother, and apart from my dimples, no one would ever guess she was my daughter. Bronagh got all the genetic rights to our firstborn; she got those rights with Quinn, too. He was the only one of my sons who resembled his mother more than me. He had her green eyes, her perfect complexion, her nose, her mouth. Everything. The rest of our boys got my genetics, which meant they looked the Slater part. Beau was the spitting image of Damien’s firstborn son, and since they were close in age, people often thought they were twins, which amused them greatly.