what has led to your relationship with your father to be so... ahem... strained
Thank you for asking.
My father died tragically when I was three, leaving my Dad to raise me as a single parent. I always looked up to the man in the photographs. I grew to look like him. It was one of the most beautiful parts of transitioning; not only did I become a man, I became the image of the man I had long mourned.
You can imagine how my shock turned to anger when I met the man himself twenty-four years later, decidedly not dead.
Finally, this took me so long, you don't even understand
Declan lore (familial relationships)
((Declan is five, Aoife is eight))
Mum had been weird lately. Sad.
That was the only way that Declan could think to describe it. Mum didn’t want to play piano with him anymore, she didn’t sing or even hum while she cooked, she wasn’t laughing with him when she was getting him ready for bed.
He’d asked Aoife about it, she didn’t answer him at first, so he had to keep asking. When he’d finally annoyed her enough into answering, Declan didn’t like the answer she gave him. She said that mum had been replaced by an alien and that the alien was waiting until Declan let his guard down and then it would eat his face off. He knew she was just winding him up, trying to scare him for annoying her. Even so, he was scared, and he was too scared to go to his mum for comfort.
He started to believe Aoife though, because she started coming into his room at night and covering his ears with her hands. Aoife looked sad, scared too. He didn’t know why Aoife was covering his ears, whatever she was blocking him from hearing was too muffled for him to comprehend, but whatever it was couldn’t have been good because Aoife cried. Aoife never cried, not even when she broke her arm after falling out of a tree, or when she got that huge cut on her face… Declan wasn’t told how Aoife got that cut, no one would tell him. It was another one of those instances when asking questions got him sent to bed with no dinner.
Aoife couldn’t always be there to cover his ears though, so he soon found out why she was doing it. Aoife was staying at her friend’s house for a sleepover party. Declan wasn’t allowed to have sleepovers yet, his dad said that if any of his friends found out that he still wore pull-ups to bed, he’d have no friends. ‘No one wants to be friends with the little greb that pisses the bed.’
The house was really quiet. Maybe it was always this quiet, he couldn’t be sure. Usually when Aoife was home she took him to the park after school and they didn’t go home until tea time. Declan wasn’t allowed to go to the park by himself yet, mum was worried that the bigger boys would hurt him.
Declan didn’t like eating tea at the table anymore, especially if Aoife wasn’t there to pull faces at him while they ate. The silence of the room, only broken by the sounds of cutlery on the plates and chewing, drove him mad. Silence filled him with a sense of dread like no other, because silence this heavy was only ever filled by one thing. A fight.
They’d almost gotten all the way through tea without the inevitable screaming match. Maybe they’d manage a day without one, like before?
“Declan, baby, help mammy with the dishes.” His mum said as she began clearing the table, glancing over at Declan with the faintest hint of her old smile.
“Okay, ma-“
His dad sneered, “He’s a lad. Lad’s don’t do dishes. That’s a woman’s job.”
His mum’s face dropped back to that expressionless frown that had been etched into it lately, her gaze falling to her hands as she quickly took the plates to the kitchen.
“Do them yourself, Siobhan.” He got up from the table, disappearing into the living room, “It’s all you’re good for!”
The plates from dinner were roughly dropped into the sink, clattering loudly. Declan flinched, sinking lower into his chair. He wanted to go upstairs and hide in his room, but he was supposed to do his homework after dinner, and he had to do his homework at the table.
He wished Aoife was here. Aoife would pull a face at him, or flick a stray pea at him, she’d just do something, anything, to distract him. He could only try and distract himself with his homework and hope that this was as much of a fight that would happen tonight.
((Declan is seven, Aoife is ten))
“Why’s me food cold, Siobhan?” His dad slurred, swaying slightly as he stood in the doorway between the kitchen and dining room.
“Because, it’s been sitting there since five. The time you were supposed to be home and eat it, Sian.” His mum replied coldly, not looking up from the cup of tea she was stirring.
“Av’ you got a problem with me? Fuckin’ say it! Don’t do all this fuckin’ stupid female bullshit.” His dad raised his voice, stumbling forward into the kitchen. Despite being wobbly and unsteady on his feet, he was still terrifyingly tall and menacing when he was stood over someone like this.
Declan was seriously starting to regret his hiding spot. He didn’t want to be anywhere near this, let alone curled up in the cupboard. If he was scared to make noise before - Aoife playing her own special version of seeker, in which the seeker got to pelt you with nerf bullets after finding you - he was absolutely fucking terrified of making noise now. His dad hated him playing hide and seek, especially if he hid in stupid places like this. If dad found him right now, he’d get thrown up the stairs in an instant, chased into his room and most definitely smacked somewhere.
“I don’t have a problem, Sian. You asked a question and I answered it.”
“What? Am I not allowed to go t’ the pub with me mates after a hard days work? Is that it?”
His mum scoffed out an incredulous laugh, “The pub? Don’t lie to me, Sian. Own up to it if you’re going to do it.”
Declan bit down on his bottom lip, feeling his eyes starting to water. Why did she say that? Doesn’t mum know that talking back only makes dad madder when he’s drunk? He didn’t like this, he didn’t want to be caught listening in, but he couldn’t exactly escape now. He was too scared to move to cover his ears and attempt to make it slightly better.
Something smashed against the tiled floor, if Declan had to guess, his dad chucked the nearest object in the direction of his mum; his guess confirmed later when it was finally safe for him to crawl out of the cupboard, the shattered remains of a decorative plate his nan had given to them from one of her holidays littering the floor.
“Fine! I was at the fuckin’ whore house! Is that what you want me to say? Fucks sake, Siobhan.” His dad yelled over the sound of the plate smashing.
“Yes! If it’s the truth, then yes! Just tell me the fucking truth, Sian!” His mum finally lost it, raising her voice to match her husband.
“Un-fucking-believable.” His dad muttered, Declan could practically hear him rolling his eyes.
“I’m being unbelievable? You know what, Sian, I couldn’t give a rats ass where you’ve been, it’s the-“
“Save it, Siobhan. Going on like a wet-one about the fucking kids. You’re a woman, you look after the ki-“
“Yes, our fucking kids, Sian! The kids you made me have!” His mum screamed, her voice cracking.
Declan blinked, his tears silently rolling down his face in the darkness of the cupboard. His mum didn’t want him? Is that what she meant? Is that why she was so mad, because she didn’t love her kids, didn’t want them?
((Declan is nine and Aoife is eleven))
Declan was sat in the office of his primary school, ice pack held up to his cheek. It was a stupid fight, he knew that. It didn’t negate the fact he’d been pissed off at the kid. Where did the kid get off on spreading rumours like that? His dad wasn’t cheating on his mum, Finn was just a lying gobshite who’s da sells avon.
The doors to the office swung open, Aoife came storming in. She didn’t look happy, hardly ever did, but still. She’d left primary school and now went to an all girls secondary, her uniform looked gay as hell, manditory knee-length skirts and little bows instead of ties. Even in the gay-ass uniform, Aoife looked as scary as ever when she came in, glaring daggers at Declan.
“Gettin’ in a fight for? Stupid fuckin’ eejit.” Aoife pulled Declan up by his arm, dragging him toward the door. She stopped briefly to acknowledge the receptionist, “Oh, hiya, Deirdre. How’ve you been?”
Declan rolled his eyes, Aoife always chatted with adults like she was one of them. Honestly, sometimes she sounded more like Declan’s mum than his sister.
“Ooh, Aoife, dear, I’ve been grand. You?”
“Aye, yeah, grand. Well, ‘cept for keeping this gobshite out of trouble.”
Deirdre chuckled, most adults did when talking to Aoife. It was usually followed by “Ooh, my, you’re an old soul, aren’t you?” Aoife seemed to take pride in that, Declan thought it was dumb, retarded even, to want to seem like an adult. All adults did was argue and moan about stupid shit.
“Awh, well, I best not be keeping yous, I bet your mum an’ dad want to give Declan a good talking to.”
“Aye, yeah. Alright, bye for now, Deirdre.” Aoife waved goodbye before tugging Declan out of the school building.
“Ow. Stop feckin’ dragging me, you bitch.” Declan whined, pulling away from Aoife and glaring back at her.
“Call me a bitch again and watch what happens. I was chatting someone up and then I had to come down here and pick your stupid nobhead-ed self up. Getting in a fight for? Didn’t I tell you last time?” Aoife ranted, storming ahead of Declan on account of her longer legs, causing Declan to jog to catch up to her.
“I just did, don’t matter why… And who’re you chatting up anyway, you go to an all girls school you lezzer.” Declan almost bumped into Aoife’s back when she stopped suddenly.
“The boys school was vistiting and I was chatting one of those lads up,” Aoife quickly spat out, “C’mere, lemme have a look at your face.”
She pulled Declan’s hand and the ice pack away from his cheek before he could protest, hissing through her teeth at the bruise forming there. “Ooh, ay… He had a propper crack at you, there, didn’t he?… Did’ja win at least?”
“Yeah, obviously I won…” Declan’s gaze lowered to the floor, away from the raised brow stare she was giving him, “No… I didn’t win… That’s why they sent me home early, in case Finn tried to jump me on the way home.”
“Finn? Finn fucking Calligan? His da sells avon, fucks he starting fights for?”
The rest of the walk home was filled with Declan giving a very dramatised series of events about the fight, while Aoife listened and called bullshit from time to time. It was fun, for a moment they felt the slightest semblance of normalcy. They were just brother and sister, walking home from school and winding each other up.
That didn’t last, of course it didn’t. When did anything good ever last? When they got home, the front door to the house was wide open. They eyed it, looking to each other in worry as they slowly approached the house. Aoife went inside first, putting her arm out in of Declan’s chest to stop him from running inside with absolutely no caution.
“Mammy? Dad?” Aoife called out into the house. She had been wondering why she’d been called out of school early to get Declan, her parents should’ve been to get him. Was something wrong? Had something happened? Was she about to walk in on a bloody murder scene and become an orphan with Declan?
No. That was retarded. Obviously not.
“Aoife? What’re you doing home from school?” Their dad called from up the stairs. He sounded to be in a good mood today, that was good.
“Oh, uh, had to pick our Declan up, he got in a fight.” Aoife answered truthfully, much to Declan’s horror. Even if their dad seemed to he in a good mood, there was no telling how he was going to react to that.
“Aye? ‘S that so?” Their dad asked again, making his way down the stairs. He didn’t look mad… yet. It was always hard to tell if he was about to fly into a rage or not.
“Uh…” Declan stared at his dad for a moment, praying to god that his dad was in a good mood, “Aye?”
“That’s my lad. I were startin’ to think your mam had turned you into a right puff.” His dad stepped closer, clapping him on the back, “Did’ja win, son?”
“Yeah, aye, I won, da.” Declan lied, if he said he’d lost now his dad would definitely have his ass. Aoife didn’t call bullshit this time, just staying silent as she nodded along in an attempt to add credibility to Declan’s story.
“That’s it son. Good news.” He sighed in a dramatic display of exaggerated joy, knocking on the doorframe before continuing, “Even more good news, kids. We’re moving.”
“Moving?” Declan echoed.
“Where?” Aoife questioned.
“Somewhere in America. Doesn’t matter. Anyway, go get packing, kids. Good thing you did get home early, I want yous both packed before your mam gets home.”
His words struck them as a little odd, but not wanting to potentially piss him off and ruin the good mood he was in, they ran up the stairs to do as they were told.
Their dad had already been in and started packing away some things into boxes, so it didn’t take too long until they’d fully packed their entire lives into some cardboard boxes. Despite the weirdness, it was kind of exciting. Declan didn’t have any friends he’d miss, he’d practically fought with his entire school by that point - including some of the girls - so he wasn’t well liked by any standards. Aoife was a little pissed off, she’d worked hard to befriend her classmates in her all girls school, going to bullshit after school church functions so she could hang out with them. Although, the concept of wearing anything but that stupid school uniform everyday quickly overcame any ill-thoughts she had toward the move. She hadn’t really clicked with any of the girls anyway, they all seemed really immature to her, always gossiping about the boys from the boys school. Who gave a crap? Boys were little freaks that smelt like B.O.
Everything important was packed up and shoved into the back of their dads car before their mum got home. Their dad rubbed his hands together like a cartoonish villain about to un-hatch an evil plot, smiling down at the pair of them.
“Alright. In the car. Flight’s later, we’ve got to get to the airport.”
“Wha- B-But what about mammy? Shouldn’t we-“ Declan spluttered, the confusion bubbling over and overwhelming him.
“Don’t talk like a wet-one, Declan. Just get in the car.” Their dad’s jovial tone darkened for a moment, as did his gaze. Aoife quickly ushered Declan into the car, leaning over to buckle his seatbelt for him out of habit.
“Why aren’t we waiting for mammy?” Declan whispered urgently to Aoife, forgetting all about the stupid wall he put up to appear solid. He wasn’t solid. He was scared and he wanted his mum.
“I don’t know. Just stay quiet. We don’t want daddy shouting, do we?” Aoife replied, her calm voice trembling slightly. She was scared too. Declan shook his head, sinking into the car seat. He tried making himself as small as possible, hunching over and leaning his head against the window as his dad drove toward the airport. A few times tears threatened in his eyes, so he’d quickly close them and force himself to fall asleep for a while.
Mum didn’t show up at the place they had to go to ship their stuff over to their new house, or at the airport, or when it was time to board the plane, or when they got on the plane.
Declan and Aoife were sat beside each other on the plane, their dad was seated in a different area of the plane. While that didn’t help either of their nerves, it did help with allowing Declan to show the emotions his dad deemed ‘girly’.
He looked at his sister, his eyes wide as tears collected in them. “Aoife… Why’s mammy not with us?”
Aoife shrugged, her own eyes glazed over slightly as she was clearly trying hard not to cry herself, “I don’t know Declan… Just get some sleep, yeah?”
Declan nodded, accepting Aoife’s shoulder to rest his head against, curling up as best he could on the plane seat. He’d never been on a plane before, he was a little scared, but he was glad that at least Aoife was there with him. Aoife was mean sometimes, but she never made fun of him for crying.
((Declan is ten, Aoife is twelve))
“Happy birthday dear Declan, happy birthday to you!” The song finished and Declan blew out the candles on the cake in front of him.
His first birthday since moving. He was ten now. Was he supposed to feel different just because his age now had two digits in it rather than just one? Maybe all that would kick in later? Either way, he’d never had a birthday party like this before. Back in Ireland he didn’t have enough friends to warrant a party, but somehow - that somehow definitely being Jo - he’d managed to make a decently sized group of friends. Even if he did consider most of them more like acquaintances rather than actual friends.
Something that was a little weird to him, from the very limited knowledge he had about birthday parties back home, was that Americans cut up and ate the cake at the party. Weird. Thank god He wasn’t friends- acquaintances- with any losers with food allergies and could have an actual cake.
“So…” Jo appeared at his side, his usual stupid smile on his face, “Are you enjoying being ten like the rest of us?”
“If it means no more feckin’ dumb jokes about me being ‘the baby of the group’ the yeah, it’s grand.” Declan replied, shoving Jo slightly, although the tiny grin on his face betrayed him from appearing actually mad.
“Hi, Declan.” Great, now Angel was here… Though it was rare to see Jo and Angel apart for more than a few hours, they didn’t call themselves cousins for no reason.
Jo shot Declan the look that meant ‘be nice’, so Declan obliged. “Hi.”
“I was looking at your cards, because they were pretty, and you missed one.” Angel said, presenting him with an envelope he hadn’t even seen when it’d been time to open presents and cards.
Declan recognised the handwriting on the envelope straight away, the swirly lettering that his mum wrote in. She hadn’t forgotten his birthday like his dad had said. Jo, able to read faces and possibly minds too, caught onto the brief glimpse of sadness in Declan’s eyes as he read over the envelope.
“Is it from your mum?”
“Yeah…”
“You want me to get Aoife?”
“No. It’s alright… She’s probably lezzing out somewhere anyway.”
Jo scoffed slightly, “Alright. We’ll just be over there,” Jo pointed toward where the cake was being given out to the queue of their classmates on the other table that had been booked for Declan’s party. Declan nodded slightly, Jo taking Angel with him to get some cake.
Declan looked back down at the envelope in his hands. It didn’t feel like a card, it felt like a letter. He swallowed, ripping open the envelope as carefully as he could and pulling the letter out.
“I miss you guys so so much. I’m sorry I couldn’t see you on your birthday, sweetheart. I’ll try and make it for Christmas!
I hope you’re settled in alright in your new school, made loads of new friends. You’ve always been good at making friends, my sweet little man, just stop getting in all those fights.
Keep practicing your Gaeilge, a leanbh.
Your dad told me everything, I’m so proud of you, Declan. You’re such a brave and strong lad. Hope I get to meet this Jo of yours. Look after your sister for me.
See you soon, love from Mammy xx”
He stared at it long after he’d finished reading it, trying and partially failing to conceal the tears welling in his eyes. Luckily before anyone that would’ve taken the piss out of him saw it, Jo came back over, alone now that Angel had been distracted by someone else.
“You okay?” Jo asked. His voice was infuriatingly soft. Declan appreciated it, appreciated him, but he also hated anyone thinking he wasn’t strong, that he wasn’t tough.
“Yeah.” Declan scoffed to disguise a sniffle, “Just a dumb letter. Like I care.”
Jo didn’t look convinced, so Declan took it a step further, ripping the letter a few times before shoving it into his pocket. He instantly regretted it, but refused to let it show on his face for the remainder of the party. It wasn’t until he got home later that night, that he retrieved the crumpled, torn letter from his pocket and quietly across the hall to Aoife’s room.
“What do you wan-“ Aoife started in her usual tone of bitter annoyance, stopping herself when she looked up to see the look of total devastation on Declan’s face.
“Declan?” She asked, her voice immediately softer as she approached him and held him by the shoulders.
“I ripped up mammy’s letter…” He choked out, holding out the pieces to her. His tears fell freely and silently down his cheeks, staring up at his sister for a solution. Aoife was his big sister, she can fix anything, she always fixes everything.
“Oh… You daft eejit, why’ve you done that then?” Aoife questioned, taking the torn letter to her desk and grabbing her tape.
“I dunno… I just did…” Declan sniffed, peering over Aoife’s shoulder as she taped the letter back together.
Aoife tutted, although she wasn’t actually mad at him, she’d also done stupid things in the heat of the moment, she knew what it was like. After she’d taped it back together, they sat beside each other on Aoife’s bed and read it again. Declan rested his head on her shoulder, subtly wiping his tears and snot on her sleeve.
“That’s nice of mammy, ay?”
“Mmhmm… Aoife?”
“Aye?”
“Can… Can I stay in here tonight?”
Aoife rolled her eyes but she didn’t say no, she also knew how much it sucked to miss their mum, and Aoife was the closest thing Declan had to their mum right now. Besides, even if he was ten now, he was still just a little kid in her eyes, and she wouldn’t ever say no to him when he needed her anyway. Not even when they’re eighty and seventy seven, she’ll always have a soft spot for her baby brother.
“Alright. Have you been the loo though? I’m not having you piss in my bed.” She teased gently, not retaliating when he whined and punched her in the arm. It was a low blow after all.
I miss the days I would bring Declan to drill so I could wear him around my neck like a boa, hide him under my hair and proceed to march with him. People would notice the clicking and look and start laughing, it was real fun. I miss that :(
Hey HoP do you wear that hat because you are balding. Question mark.
I am not balding that badly for a man in his 50's, though I admit my hairline had receded over time.
The hat is a very, very old keepsake—I had two, back before I... became more of a transient worker, changing my assignments more frequently. Now, I only have the one. I've had it since just after I left the Marines.
HOP, what was it like back in the days when you worked in/with security?
When I started working security on station, it was because I thought I could do a good job protecting the crew.
By the time I stopped working security on station, I worried I was the only one who could do a good job protecting the crew.
I worked security up until last year, when a particular set of circumstances led me to resign my security contract. Let me be very clear: I still know many excellent officers working in security. There are good people there, doing their best for the station.
I... can never work alongside them again, in that department, with a good conscience. Call me a sentimental old fool if you like—or say it's just age catching up to me, that I can't run like I used to—but you won't see me in security ever again.
But that doesn't answer your question—what was it like?
It was like any other job on station—overworked, under-communicated. You have to take accountability for indefensible actions your coworkers have made, because if you admit security is fully wrong, you could have a riot on your hands. The weight of responsibility rests heavy on your every word to non-security crew members.
And if you don't have a trauma response to clowns already, you will.
