Perched on the edge of the wall in your front yard, a cigarette delicately pinched between your fingers, you watch as smoke curls into the cold Irish air, your gaze fixed on Elk Terrace. It’s been a while since you set foot in school, deliberately steering clear of a certain someone who just so happens to be your next-door neighbor: Joey Lynch.

You’re in love with the boy. You always have been, but now you’re facing a dilemma. You’re pregnant, and he’s the father. The thought of how to break the news to him feels overwhelming. He’s practically been a father his entire life, raising his younger siblings, and the last thing you want is to burden him. Sometimes, you even forget you’re a few days along, like now, as you hastily extinguish your cigarette.

You hear the unmistakable sound of a door creaking open and then slamming shut, echoing from the Lynch house. Instantly, you feel Joey’s concerned gaze upon you as he pauses in his tracks. “Baby? What’re ye doin’ out in the cold?” he asks, rounding the wall that separates your homes and standing beside you.