My Life in Shambles

Oh, and the fact that his father is supposed to present the ring to Padraig.

My stomach starts to hurt, sharp stabbing pains. While I’ve been distracted from the whole fake relationship thing with Padraig’s diagnosis, and it’s become easy and normal to be around the B&B with the family, the whole charade of it all has slipped my mind.

I hate the fact that he’s going to give me her ring.

I’ve hated it from the start and I know I don’t really get a say because it’s not my mother’s ring, but still. It makes me uncomfortable.

But we can’t back out of it now. All I can do is just hope there isn’t a fuss.

When I’m done polishing, I decide I need some fresh air. I put on my boots and coat and head outside, strolling down the frosty driveway to the road. The sun is blinding but after days of rain, it’s exactly what I needed. I wish Padraig were out here with me because I noticed he gets more depressed the longer it rains, but he needs his sleep, too.

I end up walking for about an hour, past round stone huts surrounded by bramble, wide green fields dotted with sheep, rabbits running out from the thickets, blackbirds soaring up high. There are farms and colorful houses and everyone I see waves at me like they know me.

I could live here.

The thought surprises me, considering I’ve always been a city girl. But there’s a peace about this place. The way that life slows down just a little and people take the time to look you in the eye when they’re talking to you. Even Dublin doesn’t operate like an aggressive, go-go-go city. It’s soft and it’s kind and good for your heart.

So, great. Both this damn country and Padraig have totally and completely captured my heart and I’m helpless against it.

I head back to the house when my back starts to hurt and my hips feel stiff. I think about my physiotherapy sessions and how Padraig will likely start physiotherapy soon. Sounds awful to think, but a lot of his next steps rely on when his father will pass away.

Speak of the devil…

When I turn up to the B&B, I spot Colin sitting on the low stone wall that runs along the driveway. He’s just in a sweater and pajama pants, no coat, and as I get closer, I see he’s only got slippers on his feet.

I start hurrying over to him. “Mr. McCarthy,” I say anxiously. “Are you okay?”

“Colin,” he says in a dazed voice, his attention on a seagull that’s flying in the distance. “I’m to be yer father-in-law, then you should call me Colin. Or dad, I suppose. But let’s not bloody rush things.”

“Okay, Colin,” I say, trying not to be too pushy, “I should get you inside. You don’t even have shoes on.”

“I’m fine. I don’t feel the cold. I just wanted to be out here.” He finally looks at me and his eyes are red. He looks awful and my heart sinks. “Sit down with me Valerie, just for a bit. Then you can go back inside.”

“Okay. But just for one minute,” I tell him. “I’ll get Gail, if I have to.”

“Oh, please. I’ll go with ye. That Gail is an overbearing Holy Joe, ye know the like.” He licks his lips and turns his attention back to the sky. The bird is gone. “Can I ask you a question, Valerie?”

“Of course.”

“Where does the time go? Where does it bleed to? That’s what it does from the day yer born, ye know. Yer born and it bleeds out of ye until ye die.” He closes his eyes. “It seems just yesterday I was asking Padraig’s mother to marry me. And it seems only yesterday that she died. Now I’m here and I’m dying and it just goes so bloody fast, doesn’t it?”

I put my gloved hand on top of his bare one and give it a squeeze. “Come on. Let’s go inside. You’re not planning on dying today so don’t make it worse by catching a cold.”

To my surprise he follows, slowly getting to his feet. I loop my arm around his, supporting him, and walk him toward the house.

“Ye love my son very much, don’t ye?” he asks.

And now, I can answer truthfully. “With all my heart.”

After we walk a few more steps, he slows and looks at me. “I love him too, ye know. I wish there had been more time to show him that. That’s one of my biggest regrets.”

Tears are swimming in my eyes and I offer him a sad smile. “You need to tell him that. He’s a very lost and lonely man. He needs his father more than anything right now.”

I am so tempted to tell him about his diagnosis but I know I’m not supposed to and it would be wrong. Padraig has to tell him, if he’s going to at all. It might even be best to keep it from him, give his father one less thing to worry about.

“How can he be lonely when he has a girl like you?” he asks.

“You can be lonely even with the people you love.” Don’t I know it.

He just nods and the moment we get near the cottage, he gestures weakly to the falconry mews. “Padraig said you’ve taken an interest. Said ye wanted me to teach ye.”

“Only if you have the strength.”

“Bah, I’ll make the strength if it’s for the birds. I miss them ye know. The hawk, Clyde, he’s a real wanker sometimes but he’s a brilliant sight when he flies. I don’t know what will happen to him when I’m gone. Nan can’t live forever. What happens then?”

“I’ll make sure we take care of them. Which is why there’s no better time for me to learn.”

He reaches over and pats my cheek. “Yer a real angel, aren’t ye? I must say, it gives a tired, cranky old man like me some peace to know that you’ll be joining the family. We need strong women like yerself.”

He disappears inside and closes the door.

Once again, I’m torn up inside, my gut feeling like shredded paper.

I almost didn’t want his father to like me. I didn’t want him to have any emotional attachment to me and I certainly didn’t want any attachment to him.

Seems it’s too late for that now.

17

Padraig

“Padraig?”

Valerie’s soft, sweet voice infiltrates my dreams, the one thing these days that’s guaranteed to open my eyes. She makes me want to face the world when all I really want to do is crawl into my darkness and never come out.

I open my eyes and see her sitting on the side of the bed, her bed. It takes me a moment to recognize that. Fucking hell, I was too tired to even go down the stairs and have a nap in my own bedroom.

“How are you feeling?” she asks, leaning in and gently brushing her fingers across my forehead. She feels like an angel.

My mouth is parched and I have trouble swallowing. “Fine. I think I need some water.”

“Stay there,” she says, going into her en suite and bringing out a glass of water. I sit up, carefully, my head feeling heavy, and take the glass from her, nodding my thanks. “It’s the medications,” she says as I drink. “They give you dry mouth.”

She’s been reading up on them, reading up on everything related to MS ever since we got back from the doctor. So far, dry mouth is the only thing that the medications seem to give me. The anti-depressants, which isn’t only for my mood but is supposed to help a range of symptoms, won’t kick in for a few weeks and the other pills only seem to work minimally when I have pain.

It’s frustrating, but to say that is an understatement.

Even in the last few days, my fatigue has increased ten-fold. My balance issues only happen sporadically and I have yet to fall over again like I did with Hooter and my leg spasms at night have calmed a bit. But this weakness, this tiredness, it hits me like we’re in a boxing match, wears me out until I’m down for the count. You can only fight it for so long.

I think my nan knows something is wrong. She’s noticed me napping and commented several times on how tired I look and that perhaps I should take Valerie to the Mediterranean for some sun, knowing I’m not going anywhere now, not with my dad like he is.

But I don’t want to tell her yet. I will. I’ll have no choice. I just hope that until my dad goes, that I can keep up appearances.

And that’s all I’ve been doing, isn’t it? Just keeping up appearances. Pretending that Valerie is my fiancé. Trying to be a good son even though I’m anything but.

I stare at the glass of water in my hands for a moment, almost willing my hand to shake, daring it. But it remains steady. I drink the rest of it down and look at Val.

“I guess my plan of sleeping through the engagement party didn’t work?” I ask.

She laughs softly. “No. And guess what? There is no party.”

“What?”

“Well, there is but we’re the only guests. They didn’t invite anyone. They just wanted to have a fancy dinner with us to celebrate. What a relief, huh?”

“Fuck yeah it’s a relief.” Instead of having to make it through forced conversation with strangers and townsfolk, I just have to deal with my family like I’ve been doing every day.

“But,” she says, tapping her fingers along my arm. “Your grandmother wants us to look nice.”

“Like a suit, that kind of look nice? Because I don’t have one and I don’t want to borrow one from the Major.”

The corner of her mouth curls into a smile and I know she’s picturing me dressed as the Major. “I’m sure a dress shirt and nice pants will do fine. Now, come on. Get up.”

She tries to pull me out of bed but I pull back and grab her wrists until I’m bringing her on top of me. She giggles, her hair spilling down into my face and tickling my nose.

I know she thinks I’m going to put the moves on her as I often do, but the truth is I’m too tired to even think about sex right now. The thought scares me a little but I’m also too tired to be scared by it. I just want to hold her, just want to look at her.

I put my hands at the side of her face, pushing back her hair so I can see her eyes clearly. “There ye are, darlin’.”

“Here I am,” she says, smiling sweetly at me.