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Jem learned his first lesson at the age of ten from his father. He stood in the doorway of the living room and watched wide eyed as his father counted out a wad of cash. His father looked in his direction and he nearly shitted himself.
Frank Coughlin placed the money down in front of him. “Hey kid.”
Jem swallowed. “Hey.”
Frank chuckled and waved him over. “Come over here will yah.” He patted the seat next to him. “Sit the fuck down. Right here son.”
Jem ambled over, nervous. His eyes strayed toward the Gun that lied next to the money. He started in surprise as his father suddenly wrapped an arm around his shoulders. It was no secret how he idolized his father. To say Frank Coughlin was well known in Charlestown was an understatement. Everyone and anybody knew Crazy Frank. Nobody fucked with him or his own. If they did, they were lucky they didn’t end up six feet under. Jem could still remember seeing his father beat the shit out of a guy for one reason or another. Frank had seemed untouchable. In control. Unafraid. Jem wanted to be him.
“My fuckin’ son.” Frank said with a chuckle. “You still givin’ those teachers hell in school?”
Jem cracked a smile as he nodded his head. “Yeah pop.”
Frank chuckled. He drank from his bottle of Jameson. He ruffled Jem’s hair. “Us fucking Coughlins ain’t nothing but trouble. “ He held out the bottle toward his son. “Drink some.”
Jem hesitated.
Frank shook his head and shook the bottle. “Fuckin take a sip. Don’t be a pussy.” He grinned as Jem took the bottle from him.
Jem lifted the bottle toward his lips and took a huge gulp. His eyes widened in shock from the sudden burn as the liquor made its way down his throat. He coughed hard, leaning forward as his father patted him on the back with a chuckle.
“You took that back like a fuckin’ champ!” Frank chuckled with a shake of his head. “You are my fuckin’ son.”
Jem nodded as he took another sip, bracing himself for the burn this time. He wanted nothing more than to keep impressing his father.
“When you grow up,” His father started, “and I’m dead and gone; all of this shit will be yours.” He pointed to the gold Rolex, ring and necklace he wore. Frank took the bottle from his hands as he continued talking. “You’re gonna be one tough mutha fuckah.” He took another drink from the bottle. “I can tell.”
Jem nodded in agreement. His face was flushed red from the whiskey.
Frank’s expression suddenly became serious as he said his next words. “Listen to me real fucking good James. There ain’t nothin’ more important in this world than loyalty.” He pointed at his son. “Loyalty is what makes a man.”
Jem stared up at his father as he took in what he said. Those words will be burned on his brain for the rest of his life.
88
At thirteen Jem learned his father wasn’t invincible as he watched him get carted off to prison for the rest of his life.
At fifteen, he learned what it was like to not have a father anymore.
It seemed as though half of Charlestown showed up to Frank’s funeral. His mother cried through the whole procession. Jem doesn’t shed a tear.
“It was only a matter of time.” His mother whispered to him later that day. She tossed him a box. “Here.”
Jem opened the box, unsurprised to see his father’s gold Rolex, Celtic cross chain, and ring waiting to be worn again.
Jem slammed the box closed and shoved it under his bed. He pushed the sadness and pain so far down he felt like he could breathe again.
END