Don't Worry About The Kids (1997) - Plot & Excerpts
She slipped in his puke, she washed out his clothes, she dragged him home from Sheehan’s, she tried to believe him each time he promised to change, but she’d been a fool long enough. My mother was on the phone, complaining to her sister Margaret about my father, who’d come home the night before, twenty-eight sheets to the wind. Nothing new there, only this time—she was already sleeping—he’d sworn he loved her more than Jane Russell, had come up to the bed, unzipped his fly, and pissed on her. My mother heard me close the front door. She put her hand over the mouthpiece, asked if I’d gotten a job yet. Not yet, I said. You know what a good job for an Irish boy is? she asked. I shrugged. Listening to somebody else’s radio! She laughed and blew me a kiss. You know what they say, Jimmy—a good joke’s like money, right? It can’t buy happiness, but it sure helps when you’re miserable… I’d heard it all before. I went to my room, set down my books, looked at my homework assignments, at letters from colleges.
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