I took it back in and went through it on the kitchen counter.
No wish list from Cillian.
I turned my head toward the front of my house like I could see through it and feel what was happening at the Donovans.
My phone in my purse rang and I quickly dug it out, hoping it was Mickey.
It wasn’t.
It was Boston Stone.
I let it go to voicemail and made a decision I wasn’t sure was mine to make. I was pretty sure Mickey and I were starting something and because of that, I wasn’t sure what I intended to do was the right thing.
Still, I shoved my now-silent phone into the back pocket of my jeans and went to Mickey’s house.
It seemed quiet and standing at the front door I reconsidered ringing the bell.
Then my hand decided for me, lifted and rang the bell.
God, I hoped I was doing the right thing.
The door was opened by Aisling.
“Hey, blossom,” I greeted.
She tipped her head to the side and greeted back quietly, “Hey, Amy.”
“You doing okay?” I asked.
“I’m good,” she answered too quickly.
Lying.
I let that go and just nodded, asking, “Your dad home?”
She shook her head and replied, “No, he’s working.”
“Your brother home?” I went on.
Her answer to that was to step out of the door.
I took this as my invitation to walk in, so I did.
She shut the door behind me and mumbled, “He’s in the family room.”
“Okay, sweets,” I mumbled back and moved that way.
I found Cillian lounged on the couch, eyes to the TV, the evidence of an unhealthy feeding frenzy littered around him, including a melting tub of ice cream on the coffee table that was not on a magazine or a mat or anything.
The mother inside me screamed but my mouth didn’t.
“Hey, kiddo,” I greeted, going to the side of the sectional and shifting a hip to rest on the back so I could catch his eyes.
He didn’t give them to me.
“Hey,” he muttered, not taking his gaze from the TV.
“I came home, checked my mail, didn’t get a wish list,” I remarked.
He didn’t say anything.
I was used to that, just not from Cillian.
“Got an afternoon free to go shopping,” I tried again.
“Don’t want anything,” he kept muttering.
I looked up and saw Aisling hanging close to the mouth of the hall.
She shrugged but she looked upset.
I sighed, looked around and saw no cake remains splattered everywhere, but I did see the bar had a profuse gathering of unwrapped birthday presents.
My gaze slid to Aisling. She caught it and shrugged again.
I turned my attention back to Cillian.
“So I guess it’s clothes,” I announced, knowing no twelve-year-old boy wanted clothes.
“Don’t want anything,” he repeated, still not taking his eyes from the TV.
“No kid I know and like turns twelve without me buying him something. It’s a rule. I have it written in blood on a contract in my wall safe,” I somewhat lied, since I didn’t have any such contract.
Or a wall safe.
Cillian didn’t respond.
“Underwear,” I declared. “With animals on it.”
I watched Cillian’s nose scrunch.
Finally.
“Not something Combat Raptor,” I said, not knowing because Auden was beyond that kind of thing, but thinking that was all the rage.
“I’m not seven,” Cillian noted disgustedly.
Okay, that was out.
“A new Frisbee,” I pushed.
“Got five of them,” Cillian told the TV.
“So, clothes,” I concluded.
“He likes paintball,” Aisling offered and I looked to her.
“No way,” I stated. “That’s dangerous.”
“Not if you have eye gear,” Cillian mumbled.
Paintball eye gear.
Check.
“Those pellets can hit more than your eyes,” I told him.
“Won’t hurt, you got a helmet, or a vest, gloves, or pants,” he told me.
Helmet.
Vest.
Gloves.
Pants.
Check.
“So it is clothes,” I teased.
“Whatever,” Cillian muttered.
“There you go. I have my mission,” I announced, straightening away from the couch. “Could wait to ask your dad if someone might want to go with me,” I offered that thinly veiled suggestion.
Cillian didn’t reply and that hurt. He was usually so talkative, enthusiastic, energetic.
Now he was slobbing out in front of the TV, sullen and crabby.
My children could be that way and they’d never had a mom or dad that did anything but love them, support them, give them all they needed and a good deal of what they wanted. Conrad and I might have behaved badly, they might have seen it, but we’d never missed anything important or made them feel unimportant.
Heck, I even went to all Auden’s wrestling matches and I disliked wrestling.
I knew two kids who needed a reality check.
I also knew that someone needed to find Rhiannon Donovan and shake some sense into her.
Since that could not be me, I could only find paintball gear.
Therefore I was going to do that.
“Okay, I’m off,” I declared and started Aisling’s way. “See you later, kiddos.”
Cillian didn’t say anything.
Aisling followed me to the door.
I stopped at it and asked quietly, “Do you know his sizes?”
She nodded and gave them to me.
I looked down the hall then to her. “Did his dad get him any of that stuff?”
“Dad faked him out with a bunch of new clothes for school. The new Xbox that’s really his present is still in Dad’s closet.”
That was cute and sweet.
“Right, blossom.” I tipped my head to the side. “You sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah, I’m good,” she again answered too quickly.
“You ever wanna talk, I’m across the street,” I invited.
“Okay, Amy,” she said in a way I knew she’d never take me up on that.
I didn’t push it. Maybe one day I’d have a chance, and looking at her pretty face, I hoped that day would come.
I just said, “Okay, Aisling.”
I opened the door and was through it when she called, “Amy.”
I turned to her. “Yes, honey?”
“Are you…is that…?” Her eyes slid away then to my house where she kept them as she finished, “That Bradley guy you were with seemed nice.”