Read His Father's Son: To save the son he loves, a desparate father must confront the ghosts of his past for Free Online Page A

away. Joey, don’t turn your feckin back on me again.”

4
     
    Feck was a bad word. Marti knew it was how the Irish said the f-word because Dad had told him. Dad said feck wasn’t really as bad as the f-word but when Marti said it he still got asked if he wanted his mouth washed out with soap for using a bad word. Marti heard Mam say the feck word and then she said bastard, which was another bad word. He knew if he had said bastard it would be the mouth washed out with soap for sure, and maybe even the hot arse. Mam and Dad were fighting again. It was probably all his fault, thought Marti. He wished he had never seen the blue ten dollar bill.
    There was a big silence and Marti wondered had the fighting stopped, and he stuck his head out into the hall to look. The kitchen door was closed but there was a little gap where he could see in. Dad was staring at Mam and she had a very strange look on her face, like the way people sometimes look on films when they’ve just been shot and are about to fall over with the bullet in them.
    Marti thought Dad’s face looked like he had just eaten something that tasted really horrible and he would spit it out, and then he lunged forward and pushed open the kitchen door. Marti pulled in his head from the hall. He could hear Mam shouting for Dad, but Dad was walking down the hall, very quickly, with the big steps. Mam was still shouting when the front door was slammed and then he heard the bubbling with the tears and knew what would be next.
    “Marti, come here. Come and give Mam a hug.”
    He didn’t want to give her another hug. All this trouble was caused by the hugs. If Mam hadn’t made him give her the hugs then he wouldn’t have taken the money. There would have been no choco bought and no being sick in class and there would have been no fight with the door slammed again.
    “I don’t want to,” he said.
    “Marti, come to Mam. Come on now. Come here.”
    He walked out of his bedroom and saw Mam. She was crouched on the floor with her head down in her hands. Her hair had fallen forward and was sticking all over the place in a whole mess. She looked very sad crouched on the floor, and when she looked up Marti saw she was ready to start crying all over again.
    “Come and give Mam a hug, Marti.” She put out her arms, and when Marti walked over she grabbed him round the shoulders and held him tight. “Isn’t it you and me versus the world, little man.” He didn’t want to be called little man. It was just another one of the silly names Mam had for him. Hugs and silly names. She’d be turning him into a Mummy’s Boy like they said.
    “Look here, my little man. How would you like a special treat?” she said.
    “What kind of a treat?” said Marti.
    “A special, special one. How would you like to go on a holiday?”
    “Where?” Marti was confused again. He wondered, was it a holiday like the time Mam and Dad took him to the place where the whales came in at the sea? He didn’t think it was. It was a long way from the school holidays and Dad was away out the front door again, to be back who knows when.
    “No more questions, Marti. You can go and get some clothes in a bag – and a toy, and a book, but just one of each,” said Mam.
    “Where are we going?”
    “Far away, Marti. It’s a long, long journey. Now hurry yourself.”
    “But, Mam, where?”
    “Marti, now listen.” Mam grabbed his shoulders and leaned down to look into his eyes. “You need to move yourself fast because we haven’t much time. We’re leaving tonight. Now c’mon, no more questions, son.”
    “But Mam, Dad isn’t home.”
    Mam stood up straight and looked away from Marti, then she pushed her long black hair back with both hands and turned around again. “Marti,” she said, “that’s right, son, but he can meet us later because doesn’t he have the ute and we’re going on a train.”
    “A train!”
    “That’s right son. A long, long journey on a train and then on a boat or maybe