Corrigan stood awkwardly at the funeral service watching the Murphys: Sive's lifeless expression, Connor's thinly veiled grief as he tried to be the strong one, Bria's open, honest tears, Rory's anger. His gran squeezed his arm as he fought his own tears.
"There now, won't they be just fine?" she said softly.
He nodded and caught Elodie's eye from where she stood, back from the family, holding a squirming little Shamey. He'd only met the French girl once or twice, and couldn't quite decide what to make of her. But then, Sive hadn't seemed to warm up to her yet, and therein was his problem. Everyone doted on Shamey, but Elodie kept her distance, and the Murphys, Corrigan decided, were not an easy family to keep a distance from. Then the service was over and Elodie lifted Shamey to her other hip, handed him to Connor with a soft kiss on the cheek, and gave Sive a big, heartfelt hug.
"Well now," Tallulah said. "She's not a bad sort, is she?"
"No, gran," Corrigan said, watching her. "She doesn't seem to be."
"We should leave them alone for a bit," she said, also watching them still. "They'll be going to the pub soon anyway."
Later that night, Rory helped Corrigan clean up, after Sive and Shamey and Bria ha all gone home. Corrigan watched Elodie and Connor, cuddled in a corner booth, as he worked. "Do ye think they'll ever get married?" He finally asked his silent friend.
Rory looked over at them and scoffed. "Ye'd think they would, wouldn't ye?"
"It would make your ma happy."
"Aye, it would," Rory said softly.
Corrigan watched the two wander off and decided to lighten the mood a bit. "Of course, ye'll cause her twice as much grief, won't ye?"
Rory tossed a rag at him. "Eejit."
"Ye know ye will," Corrigan responded as he caught the rag. "Ye'll be worse than Connor, probably."
"I'm no worse than Connor," Rory responded, insulted, then added after a short pause, "I'm just not a perfect son like you."
Corrigan scoffed. "Ye should ask my da about that."
"I don't give a shite what your da thinks," Rory said with a scowl.
Corrigan looked down at the counter as he wiped it and paused. "Well, will ye look at that. Connor forgot his keys. And where do ye think they'll be going on foot?" He raised an eyebrow and smirked.
Rory merely eyed the keys thoughtfully, then finally grabbed a bottle off of the shelf, put some money in the drawer, and picked up the keys. "Let's go for a drive."
Corrigan held his breath. "We're not old enough Rory, you know that. And Connor will kill ye if ye take his car!" Rory glared at him and he nodded weakly, following. "Well, alright then. Just . . . let's don't get caught, alright?"
"We never get caught, eejit." Rory responded derisively, and Corrigan held his tongue as he remembered several times they'd gotten caught at some sort of trouble.
The drive took them to the west, and after Rory was tired of driving, he stopped the car near the Shannon river and got out, walking toward the edge of the water. He sat and opened the bottle, taking a drink as the car door banged shut and Corrigan walked up to sit next to him. They were silent for a while, watching the river water rise with the tide, until Rory had drunk the bottle empty.
"We're as good as dead, you know," Corrigan finally said. "Tallulah will kill me if she ever finds out about that," he said, motioning to the bottle. "She could get in trouble for it, Rory. And Connor will kill ye for taking his car."
Rory groaned and rolled his eyes, "Oh, shut up, Cor."
Corrigan quickly shut his mouth and nodded. "Well. . . at least we'll be gettin' killed together." He smiled slightly and patted Rory on the back. "Are ye ready tae go back now?"
Rory nodded and the two got back into the car. Corrigan finally pulled it into the drive of Rory's house in the wee hours of the morning and made his way home as Rory stumbled inside.
Brian was waiting up for him when he walked in. "Where have ye been?"
"Just out with Rory, that's all, da," Corrigan responded calmly, walking toward his room.
"Out doin' what? Drinkin'?" Corrigan stopped, but just looked at him as he went on. "Ye shouldn't be seen with him. That Murphy boy is no good."
"I guess you would know all about being no good, wouldn't ye da?"
Brian's face turned red and angry and he puffed up slightly. "Ye'll not talk to me that way. I'm your father and I don't have to let you go out at all. I don't have to let you work at the pub either, or play football."
"Oh? And it's a lot you can do to stop me when yer drunk off yer arse," Corrigan yelled, walking out and letting the door slam behind him.
He and Rory sat outside the grocery store the next day. "How'd yer ma take it?" Corrigan asked.
"She didn't," Rory said. "Connor covered for me, and then threatened me within an inch of my life if I ever do that again. Said to tell you the same."
"Well, at least he didn't kill ye," Corrigan said lightly.
"Aye. . . and what about your da?"
Corrigan was silent for a while, then finally said, "I'm going tae move in with gran in the pub." Rory said nothing and he winced. "You must think I'm an arsehole."
"Do ye think I've never met yer da, Cor?" Rory responded tersely. "I don't think ye're an arsehole. I'd move out if he were my da too."
To be continued . . .