by Tara Heavey
‘Might?’
‘But you have to eat it or I’ll have leftovers for a week.’
‘I’ll do my best.’
He hadn’t thought he’d be able to eat, but his stomach co-operated. Sarah nibbled delicately beside him, their knees almost touching. It was delicious. So was the food.
As Sarah rose to get the dessert, she felt wobbly. Good. No, bad. She needed her wits about her. Just not too many wits. Because if she really and truly thought about what she was about to do, she wouldn’t do it. And she wanted to.
It felt so natural and right to have Aidan here. So much so that she could almost fool herself into thinking that it was natural and right – locked inside this cosy little love nest, the rest of the world shut firmly out. It had been a stroke of evil genius, she thought, to arrange for Aidan to babysit, then forget to go out. If she allowed herself to think about it, she felt deeply ashamed. So she didn’t. She ignored her thoughts and focused instead on her feelings. As the dinner drew to its natural conclusion, the tension rose again.
‘Coffee?’
‘I’m okay with the wine, thanks.’
No activity to disappear into. Nothing to do but sit with him. Wait.
The mood, hitherto light, became more intense. Sarah felt as if she’d laid her emotions on the table along with the food. Would they be so easily devoured? Would she? She felt horribly vulnerable and exposed and never in her life so nervous prior to physical contact. And never before had she felt her missing breast so keenly. Aidan enclosed her hand in his own, covering it completely. She felt a jolt throughout her body, delicious yet almost sickening in its intensity. They looked into each other, deep into each other, as if searching for missing pieces of themselves. They were both old enough to know better.
He had turned her hand over now and lifted it to his mouth. Soft kisses on her palm. Then her wrist. The delicate veins on her wrist, which transported the sensations around her body. She half rose in her chair and he pushed back his own. Somehow she ended up on his lap, sitting across him as he feasted on her. There was nothing he didn’t want to do. Nothing she wouldn’t allow. Garments were loosened and pulled over heads. The whole universe constricted into those two bodies, possessed with desire for one another. And then the room turned to liquid and melted down its own walls.
They ended up in Sarah’s bed, it being ultimately more comfortable than the kitchen chair. They were no longer encased in twenty-something bodies, after all. Contrary to sexual stereotype, Aidan lay awake while Sarah fell asleep. It was as if she could relax at last. Her head rested on Aidan’s chest. He could see her scalp gleaming through the curls. She looked so fragile. He kept one hand on her hip, the other cupped behind his head as he stared up at the ceiling. He felt elated. Not triumphant – not as if he’d scored a goal, or anything like that. It was the elation of longing fulfilled. He had tried to imagine how he would feel once his lust was satisfied. Would he be assailed with the age-old masculine desire to run? But he felt closer than ever to her, wanting more, wanting to stay. Neither had he been daunted by her lack of a breast. To him, her scar only magnified her beauty. Her perfection thrown into stark contrast. He stroked her hip, the rise and fall, the swell. The silky smoothness under his fingers.
His hand froze as the door opened. Just a crack, then further. He remained motionless as Maia climbed onto the bed, as if he could be invisible in his stillness. She crawled up beside him, directly above her mother’s head and stared. Thank God he was covered from the waist down. Her little fingers reached out and touched his beard again, as if it was some disembodied teddy bear. He lay like a corpse until she was done – a full five minutes. Then she clambered down again, her mother still sleeping, and disappeared out onto the landing. For the first time, Aidan felt glad she was autistic. He also felt glad that she couldn’t talk.
Chapter 16
Though the affair had begun, they shied away from the word. It screamed wrongness when what they had seemed so loving, so whole. Of course, the outside world would deem it wrong. Of course, if discovered, their outer worlds would be destroyed by this inner world. But while the inner world remained secret, their outer worlds could remain intact.
Still, Aidan felt he should tell Sarah about his conversation with Noel in the pub, that people had been talking about them even before they had done anything. He felt he should warn her, just in case. In case of what, he didn’t admit to himself. He went to see her the next day. It was noon, a little before he was due to take out his first batch of tourists. He’d never felt so exposed, walking down the high street of his own home town, the place that had nurtured him his whole life. He was one of its sons and now it was turning on him. That was how it felt to Aidan that day in early summer. The sky was overcast and so was his mind. He’d never before succumbed to such paranoia. Then again, he’d never had reason to, never violated the mores of the society in which he lived and breathed. Who were ‘they’ – the people who spoke of him in scandalized whispers behind closed doors, out of the corners of their vicious mouths, watching him out of the corners of their jaundiced eyes? They could be anyone. Everyone. He nodded at those he knew, stopped to exchange pleasantries with one or two. But everything was forced. False. He was trying to decipher the real meaning behind their words and the real expression at the back of their eyes.
On Sarah’s doorstep he looked about him. No one around, just a bandy little dog peeing against a car tyre. Then Sarah was standing in front of him, making it all worth it. Her face expanded in pleasure and surprise. ‘Aidan! I wasn’t expecting you. Come in.’
He stepped wordlessly inside and she read the worry on his face. ‘What’s wrong?’
He took her face in his hands and kissed her deeply. Like an alcoholic taking his first drink of the day. He felt her yield beneath him, felt his own being relax. They held each other in a long embrace. Aidan felt he was drawing his strength from her. Sarah felt cherished. They separated reluctantly.
‘Let’s go inside.’
They sat together on the couch, bodies touching at several points. Sarah looked up anxiously into Aidan’s face. ‘What is it?’
‘There’s been talk.’
‘About?’
‘You and me.’
‘Oh.’ She withdrew slightly and leaned back in the couch. ‘Does Fiona …?’
‘She hasn’t heard anything yet.’
Sarah got up and walked to the other side of the room. She stood with her back to him at the window. The tide was coming in. ‘Then we should put a stop to this now before she does hear something.’
He was at her side immediately. He took her shoulders and turned her around to face him. ‘You don’t mean that.’ His voice was urgent, his expression fierce. He looked as far as he could into her eyes. She couldn’t really mean it.
‘Of course I mean it.’
Of course she didn’t. She’d only said it because she knew he wouldn’t agree.
‘It’s the right thing to do,’ she said. Sarah felt she was playing a role. That this was all part of some half-forgotten play. She hated herself for it.
‘How can it be the right thing?’ said Aidan.
‘You know how. You have a wife. Two children.’
‘My children are practically grown-up.’
‘You really don’t think for a second that they wouldn’t be affected by this?’
They both felt the truth of this, Aidan like a pain in his chest. He sat down on the edge of the couch, as if the wind had been knocked out of him. Sarah watched him with utter sympathy. She didn’t say anything. What could she say? She just felt an inestimable sadness washing over her and taking with it all her strength. She sat down beside him, linked her arm through his and laid her cheek against his shoulder. They sat like that for a long time. What to do?
‘You don’t really want to end it, do you, Sarah?’
‘Of course not.’
‘Then why say it?’
‘It’s the logical thing to do.’
He nudged her gently. ‘And you’re such a logical person.’
Her laugh was gentle. ‘I didn’t say that. But, Aidan, you know it’s right.’
‘It doesn’t feel right. I only feel right when I’m with you.’
‘But you’re betraying your wife. We both are.’ Sarah couldn’t bring herself to say Fiona’s name. The guilt was already too enormous. ‘And she doesn’t deserve it. She’s a good person, Aidan. Not like us.’
‘Don’t say that. You radiate goodness.’
Her laugh came out like a snort. ‘I’m the world’s first virtuous mistress.’ She got up again and stood a few feet away, her arms wrapped protectively around her torso.
‘It’s not your fault I met the wrong woman first.’
‘That’s bullshit, Aidan.’
‘It’s not.’
‘It is. It doesn’t matter how often you try to justify it to yourself or in how many different ways. It’s a betrayal, pure and simple.’
He looked up at her beseechingly, his eyes filled with pain. He reminded her of an animal caught in a trap.
‘But I love you, Sarah.’
The room was filled with his declaration and its silent aftermath. Sarah turned her head to hide her joy. Her misplaced joy, because how could she have this happiness at another woman’s expense? She’d always thought of herself as a feminist. What a joke. This was hardly an act of sisterhood. And yet … Aidan. This lovely man. Who seemed prepared to give up everything for her. It appealed to the romantic in her. It also appealed to the part of her that was addicted to drama, in her personal as well as her professional life. And she knew herself to be absurdly flattered by his attention. She understood now that she had given up hope of a man thinking of her in this way again after everything that had happened to her body. And, God, she got so lonely at times. So sick and tired of coping with everything on her own. She liked to tell herself that it was just her and Maia against the world, that they didn’t need anyone else, but that was mere pretence. She saw it now. Fighting talk because she didn’t have anyone. She had no choice.
It had been the same throughout her illness. There had been friends, of course. Some great friends. And her sister. But to have no partner at a time like that … She realized now that she had resigned herself to coping alone for ever, had steeled herself against the prospect. And here was Aidan, offering his shoulder. And what a shoulder it was.
He came and stood beside her. ‘Do you love me?’
Her voice was soft. ‘We’ve only just met.’ Someone had to be the voice of reason.
‘But that doesn’t seem to matter, does it?’
No, it didn’t. But still … ‘It could be nothing but a crush. And while it’s very flattering to my ego to be inspiring such passion, these feelings could fade very quickly and I’ll be left with a shattered heart and your life will be in tatters. Is it really worth the risk?’
He took her hands in his and turned her to face him. ‘Yes.’
His intensity. His certainty. She wasn’t strong enough to resist. Or, rather, she’d been too strong for far too long and now she was ready to submit. Let someone else be strong for her.
‘Okay.’ She sighed. ‘But we’re going to have to be very discreet. You shouldn’t be here now in broad daylight. For all we know, somebody saw you come in. The bush telegraph could be in operation at this very moment. Fiona might already know. This conversation could be a waste of time.’
‘I don’t care.’
‘What do you mean, you don’t care?’
‘I’m going to have to tell her sooner or later.’
‘Don’t say that.’
‘It’s unavoidable.’
‘Okay. Oh, God. I don’t want to talk about it now. I’ve had enough trauma for one day.’
He nodded and held her quietly for a while, stroking the back of her neck, her shoulders. ‘So. Do you, then?’
‘Yes, Aidan. I love you.’
‘That’s what I thought.’
‘It must be great to be so sure of yourself.’
‘It is.’ He hugged her close and she stared unseeingly over his shoulder.
She was definitely going to hell.
Chapter 17
For Sarah their affair was less consuming than it was for Aidan. Because, for her, other matters were more pressing. On the day her daughter had spoken for the first time she had enlisted the help of a speech therapist in Ennis. Her home was now full of flash cards and wall charts, with which she badgered the child relentlessly. Maia appeared wholly uninterested. All she wanted to do was play with Star. They went down to the cove every morning. On rare occasions, they had the dolphin to themselves but mostly they had to share. Sometimes Aidan would join them but Sarah convinced him to stay away, if he could, as part of Operation Discretion, of which she was by far the more strict observer.
Although Maia had yet to utter another word – she hadn’t even said ‘in’ again – Sarah sensed a change in her daughter. An opening up. Maybe something that only she could notice, but definitely something. Maia’s eyes were less blank. She even had some colour in her cheeks – although that could be put down to the time spent outdoors. Whatever it was, it was good. And Sarah wasn’t stopping. She put the end of the summer out of her mind. She put a lot of things out of her mind. This didn’t always work.
One day she opened the front door to find Fiona standing there. So unexpected was she that Sarah had no time to compose her features. Consequently, her dismay was evident. The other woman picked up on it immediately. ‘I hope this isn’t a bad time.’
‘No. Not at all.’ Now, why had she said that?
‘I was just passing and I thought I’d drop in and say hello.’
Fiona sounded more uncertain than usual. But apart from that, all seemed normal. As far as Sarah could tell, she didn’t know. And she didn’t appear to be concealing any sharp weapons. ‘Come in.’ She stepped aside to allow her access. Thanks be to Christ, Aidan wasn’t there – he might have been.
She put the kettle on as Fiona sat at the kitchen table. She seemed more subdued than Sarah had seen her before.
‘These are nice.’ Fiona gestured to a jam-jar crammed with pinks.
‘Yes. Aren’t they lovely? I couldn’t resist. And there are so many of them right now.’
‘I never think of doing things like that. I guess I’ve been looking at them so long, I’ve stopped appreciating them. I didn’t know you were an artist too.’
‘Pardon?’ Sarah was mystified.
‘This.’ Fiona gestured to the table.
‘Oh. I didn’t do that. Maia did.’
They were looking at a drawing of a dolphin.
‘I don’t believe it. Really?’
‘Really.’ Despite the strained and surreal circumstances, Sarah’s face broke into a grin.
‘But this is astounding. How old is she again?’
‘Seven.’
‘Seven! This looks like it was done by an adult. And a normal one at that. Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean …’ Fiona rushed to correct herself.
‘That’s all right. I know what you meant.’
‘I thought autistic children had problems with motor skills.’
‘Most of them do. A lot would have trouble even holding a pencil. But not Maia. She’s always liked to draw. But, lately, she seems to be …’ Sarah smiled again ‘… inspired.’
Fiona shook her head. ‘Very impressive. I remember reading an article about this. They call it “twice exceptional”, don’t they? When a child has an ability as well as a disability.’
‘Yes, that’s right.’ Sarah nodded emphatically, and wished for the umpteenth time that circumstances were different, that she could spend more time with Fiona. She placed a mug of coffee in front of her and put the drawing aside. ‘So,’ she said, ‘how come you’re not in work today?’
‘I’ve always taken a half-day on Thursdays – ever since the children were small. Of course, they don’t need me any more.’ Fiona took a sip of her
coffee.
To Sarah, she looked incredibly sad. She thought it best to change the subject. ‘I really enjoyed the exhibition that night, by the way.’
‘Did you?’ Fiona looked pleased and perked up again. She launched into a who’s who of everyone who had been there. Not only that, but she was animated about the work they had seen and gave Sarah a detailed run-down of what was going on in the local visual-arts scene. These were sides of Fiona that Sarah wouldn’t have expected: she was sharp and funny and really passionate about art.
‘Yes. It was a lovely night and I liked Noreen’s work. What was her second name again?’
‘Dwyer. Noreen Dwyer.’
‘Oh, yeah. That was it. She was so funny.’
‘Yes. She can be quite a character when she gets going. Been through a hard time lately, though.’
‘Oh?’
‘Her marriage is on the rocks, apparently. I heard that her husband is on the verge of moving out.’
‘Poor woman.’
‘Yes. Well, not that I can talk. My own marriage isn’t in much better shape right now.’
Sarah froze. This wasn’t happening. Fiona confiding in her about the state of her marriage? Sarah groped around wildly for something appropriate to say. ‘I’m sure that’s not true.’
‘It is. Aidan has no use for me any more. Not for talking. Not for sex. He can’t even stand to be in the same room as me half the time.’ She was looking thoroughly wretched, sitting there, warming her small, capable hands on her coffee mug, needing the warmth, even though the day was mild.
Sarah knew a response was required of her. ‘Maybe he’s just preoccupied with the new business.’ She was panicking now.
‘No, it’s not that. I told myself it was at first, but there’s more to it. I even convinced myself for a while that he had erectile problems, but that’s not it either.’
Sarah had gone scarlet and was immobile with mortification. For another woman – a woman she didn’t even know that well – to be discussing the intimate details of her marriage, and for Sarah to know only too well that Aidan had no problems in that area.