I need some me time

"Mikeyyyy?"

Oh great what does she want now? I tentatively stick my head around the living room door. "Yes mum?" 

"Am I talking to you or the fucking door?"

"Sorry mum," I tell her, moving clear of the door and now stood straight in the firing line. 

"You going down the pub tonight?"

Oh here it comes. "Yeah." Keep it short and sweet, damage limitation. 

"Take Tommy with you, I need some me time."

I don't even want to contemplate the meaning of me time. "Mum, he's 16 years old. He's not old enough to go into a pub." 

"I didn't say take him down the pub and buy him a pint. I said take him with you?"

"What and buy him a bottle of Coke with a straw and a packet of salt and vinegar? Behave."

"Oi don't you tell your mother to behave. Do you know how many hours I was in labour with you?"

"32 hours mum."

"Yes 32 hours and do you know what you did to my…"

"MUM!" 

"Alright, just do as you're told for once."

"Hasn't he got friends he can go out with?" 

"Have you met his friends? They're all fucking weirdos. Spend their lives attached to computers. How's he ever going to give me grandchildren if he hangs out with people like that?"

"Mum be grateful he ain't out robbing old dears for their purses like other kids his age. They'll probably all be millionaires by the time they're 30."

"He won't find a nice girl sitting at home."

"Who do you think he's going to find down the bleeding boozer at 16 years of age? He's still a kid mum, he's not about to have kids of his own."

"Don't argue with me. Just take him with you and take a 20 out of my purse when you go."

"Do I have a choice?"

She glares at me. No words needed. "Fine," I say under duress "Give us your purse."

It's fair to say Tommy has as much enthusiasm for the idea as I do. I told him "you're a big boy now son, you go argue it out with her," and he puffed out his cheeks and stayed sat in his chair. 

"What does she mean by wanting some me time?"

"Tommy don't even start to fucking try work it out. Saves you hating yourself in the morning." 

We haven't had as many dead batteries go out with the recycling since we were knee high and both had remote control cars. 

I make Tommy put one of my shirts on, actually run a comb through his barnet and clap some eau du toilette round his chops. Half way down the road and he's asking "Why can't I go see Pete?" 

"Cause mum says Pete's going to die a virgin and she doesn't want you catching non-Grandkids disease."

"You what?"

"Don't fucking ask. Look I love you but I don't want you here any more than you want to be here. If you're good I'll treat you to a burger and chips on the way home?"

"With a strawberry milkshake?"

"Fuck me what are you ten?"

"What? I like strawberry milkshakes."

"Fine, you can have a strawberry milkshake. Just don't embarrass yourself."

"By which you mean don't embarass you?"

"Yeah pretty much." 

"Burger, chips and a large strawberry milkshake."

"Fine. Fucking hell you get more like mum every day." 

If he took offence to that you wouldn't know it, he just shrugged his shoulders. 

"Whatever you do, don't get caught with fat Alan."

"Why do they call him fat Alan?"

"Cause he's fat and his name's Alan. Fuck me Tommy what do they teach you in sixth form?"

"Alright fucking hell I was only asking. How will I know which one fat Alan is?"

"He'll be talking to tall Paul and yes, he's tall and his name's Paul before you ask."

Tommy rolls his eyes at me. I resist the temptation to knock his head off his fucking shoulders. 

An hour in and all things considered it's going alright. My mate Rosie who I've known since primary school has for some reason adopted Tommy. Fuck knows what they're talking about, sounds too technical for me but I've not got to babysit him and he's got the sensible head out of us both and can't work out the logic of getting drunk and not being able to remember what you did the night before. He's probably got a good point to be fair to him but I'm a couple of pints in already and for now the old memory box is on record. 

Two hours in and I've got to drain the snake. Job done I walk back into the bar and fuck me Tommy's been cornered. Do I save him or pretend I've not noticed and avoid eye contact? What would Jesus do? Like I give a fuck? Oh bollocks I'll get another in and then go rescue him. "Pint Please Sue. Nice one, you're a diamond," and off I go on Operation Brotherhood. 

"Al. Paul. You alright chaps?" 

"Mikeyyyy," they say in unison like programmed robots. 

"What are you all talking about?" Why the fuck did I just ask that? Schoolboy error on my part. 

"Do you know Tommy?" 

"Should do, we came out the same womb."

"What?" Paul asks looking confused. 

Fuck me. Maybe the air is really thin up there when you're 6ft 4 inches tall. Either that or he's just a thick cunt. I'm not teaching a grown man about the birds and the bees. "He's my kid brother?"

You could have counted the seconds waiting for it to land … 1, 2, 3, 4, 5… 

"Ohhhhhh."

Ding, ding, ding, what does he win Johnny?

I make a mental note to physically kick myself for not using the time during the pause to think of an out. Then Mikeys voice pops into my head going on about why would you drink if you can't remember what happened the night before? I started to think he's got a good point again but actually another five pints and I probably won't remember whatever dribble is about to come out of their mouths anyway but Tommy will remember every word. Unlucky son. 

Fat Alan sensing his chance pipes up first "We were just talking about how every child's life is one big lie when you're growing up."

"Oh fascinating," I tell him, wondering if he realises it doesn't stop when you become an adult.

"Little boys watch movies where they think people can fly or use the force to move objects around. Little girls think they'll marry a Prince. We're told that Santa is real, that the tooth fairy is real, that the ice cream van is the music man."

"No fucking offence Alan but your waistline doesn't suggest you were told that particular lie about the music man." Oh shit did I just say that out loud? Fuck me. I can't tell if he's pretending to look hurt or is actually hurt. "Sorry," I say. There's another lie. There's a joke about him looking like Jabba the Hut and asking whether he sweats out pure chip fat but thankfully for the both of us neither spills out of my mouth. 

"That's OK I know you were only joking."

Button it Mikey. Nod and smile. Well done you. More lies. Good job I'm not Pinocchio. 

"Oh watching TV too close will make your eyes go square." Fuck, did that just come out of my mouth? Disengage Mikey, disengage! Nods of agreement all around. Mum definitely won't be getting any grandkids from either of us if we don't dissociate ourselves from these two jokers anytime soon. I look at my watch, 9.47 the time. If I was James Bond I'd have a gadget on my watch to get us out of this mess. Maybe fat Alan is right, we've all been sold a pup as kids. Looking up I spot Alice looking in our direction. She clocks who I'm with and unsurprisingly turns her back and on us and carries on talking to her mates instead. Tommy opens his mouth…say something to get us away from this mess, you're the brains of this family…

"I need a piss."

That'll do. Not exactly Shakespeare but it'll fucking do nicely my son.

"Jesus me too. Sorry lads, lovely talking to you both. Enjoy your evening," I say lying for a third time as I push Tommy towards the exit. "Good lad Tommy you've just earned yourself a large strawberry there son." 

He looks extra pleased with himself and so he should. 

We decamp to the other bar. Rosie reappears from who knows where and comes and joins us and minutes later Alice comes and sits down at the table too. "Enjoying yourself back there were you?" She asks. I give her the same stare mum gave me earlier on in the living room, no words needed. 

"Yep I thought as much," she says laughing at her own joke. Hah bloody hah. "Aren't you going to introduce me?"

"Sorry where are my manners? Tommy, Alice. Alice, Tommy." Tommy smiles at her as she holds her dainty hand out to shake and Tommy takes it obligingly and blushes as he shakes it. Bless his little bollocks. Perhaps there's hope mum will get some grandkids one day after all.