Where the Love Gets In

by Tara Heavey

  She sniffed and shook her head.

  ‘Cup of tea?’

  ‘I don’t think I could keep it down. Oh. There is something. I need you to ring the surgery and tell them I won’t be in. Tell them I’m sick and that they’ll have to arrange cover for the next few days.’

  ‘Okay. Anything else?’

  ‘No. That’s it.’

  She was rooting around in her pocket and wiping her nose. She seemed to be recovering herself. Thank God. Tommy slowly extricated himself and unfolded his body. He stood uncertainly for a few seconds before leaving the room, then descended the stairs like an automaton and went back into the kitchen. He called the surgery and told his lies. Then, the numbness pervading his body more completely by the second, he left the house via the back door. Rufus scrambled excitedly to his feet when he saw where Tommy was going and pushed past his legs to ensure he didn’t get left behind. He went tearing off down the deck, Tommy stumbling behind him like a man let out of solitary confinement. He took in deep draughts of air, realizing how stifled he had felt inside the house. How the very atmosphere in his home seemed suddenly poisoned.

  Tommy was on the beach now. He found his spot and sat down heavily on the sand. A fine drizzle had set in and there was no one in the water. Some of the breakers were magnificent. What a waste. No one to ride them. Rufus ran ahead of him in a zigzag pattern, following his nose, looking up expectantly every so often, wondering why Tommy was just sitting there. Not walking, not running, not throwing, not swimming. But Tommy didn’t have the energy to do anything except sit. Sit there and wait for his dad.

  Chapter 28

  Aidan left the cottage quietly. All was calm within. Sarah and Maia were up and breakfasted, proceeding with the morning as if nothing untoward had happened. The streets were quiet too. He came across a couple of people he knew. They nodded at him. ‘Morning, Aidan.’ Nobody knew yet. Too soon. He’d get a day’s grace. Two at the most.

  The sand swirled under him as the wind picked up. He quickened his pace, head bowed, hands in his pockets. He had to get to his son.

  He saw his boy from a distance, as a dark dot huddled on the sand. A smaller dot ran hither and thither in front of him. Rufus. The dog noticed him first. He lifted his head and caught his master’s scent on the breeze. Then he pricked up his ears and stiffened his body as Aidan came into his view. He bombed down the beach to greet him, as if someone had fired him from a cannon. Aidan saw Tommy’s head turn and knew he had been spotted.

  He was close now. Close enough to see his son’s features. He tried to analyse them. Too late. He was there and Tommy was on his feet. He noticed that his son kept his distance and knew immediately that Fiona had told him. Tommy’s face was uncertain, many emotions battling for precedence.

  ‘Has your mother –’

  ‘She says you’ve left her for Sarah Dillon.’

  His son’s words shocked Aidan into silence. Was that really what he’d done?

  ‘Is it true?’ Tommy’s voice contained a tremor.

  ‘Yes.’

  This was apparently the confirmation that Tommy had been waiting for. Aidan looked on in horror as his son’s features contorted in disgust, then rage. He was unprepared for what happened next. Tommy emitted a strange, anguished howl, launched himself at his father and knocked him to the ground. Aidan lay flat on his back on the sand, pinned down and winded, as the blows rained down on him. He shielded his face with his arms and attempted to catch Tommy’s hands with his own. The boy was too strong for him. Too quick. The whole experience was both surreal and awful, his little boy trying to inflict damage on him, attempting to match the pain that Aidan himself had caused. It was like some sick enactment of the wrestling games they used to play when Tommy was a kid. But now his strength was that of a man and it was fuelled by fury. Aidan finally succeeded in pushing Tommy off him. Now he had him pinned to the ground. He looked down directly into his son’s eyes. What he saw there was horrible.

  ‘You bastard!’ Tommy screamed up at him.

  Aidan let him go and the two staggered to their feet. Aidan tried to recover himself, bent over with his hands resting on his knees, his breath uneven. Tommy’s rage was still out of control. It was as if, Aidan thought, his son was possessed.

  ‘You fucking bastard!’ Tommy yelled.

  His son never swore at him, but Aidan was hardly in a position to admonish him now. ‘Tom,’ he said, with some effort, ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘You fucking shit!’ The words were spat, screamed out.

  ‘Sarah’s sick, Tom.’

  ‘What’s that got to do with us?’

  ‘She’s dying.’

  This seemed to register on some level, and uncertainty clouded Tommy’s eyes as he took it in.

  ‘She only has a couple of months to live.’

  ‘So you’ve destroyed our family for the sake of a couple of months? For someone who’s not even going to be here?’

  ‘I haven’t destroyed –’

  ‘I trusted you.’

  The words sliced through the wind, through Aidan’s heart, coating everything with their sickening residue. ‘I’m sorry, son. Really sorry.’

  ‘Stop saying that. Just come back.’ He started to cry.

  ‘I can’t.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘It’s too late. It’s done. And Sarah needs me.’

  ‘Fuck Sarah. We need you. We’re your family. Not her. Why can’t her own family take care of her?’

  ‘It’s not that simple.’

  ‘Yes, it is. Mam’s in bits. Come and see what you’ve done to her.’

  Aidan felt a lump in his throat as his son cried with abandon. He’d done this to him. To them all. ‘I don’t expect you to understand, Tommy. It’s just something I have to do.’

  ‘Bullshit. You have to be with us. We’re your family.’

  ‘I haven’t left you, Tom. Or your sister. I’m still here for you.’

  ‘You just keep telling yourself that, Dad.’ Tommy began to walk away.

  ‘Stay, Tom. Please.’

  ‘Just keep away from me. Keep away from all of us. We don’t need you any more.’

  The words stung, as they were meant to. Aidan could see Tommy regaining his composure as he strode along, his rage dissipating as he wiped his face with his sleeve. He wanted to shout out to him, tell him to look after his mother, but he didn’t dare.

  Rufus looked up at him, his head cocked, his tongue lolling, hoping for an extension of this abortive walk.

  ‘Home,’ said Aidan.

  Rufus’s ears rose a notch, while the rest of him remained stationary.

  ‘Go on,’ Aidan hissed, his tone urgent. ‘Go with Tommy. Home.’

  Still the animal stood stock still, his body poised.

  ‘Go,’ Aidan roared.

  The dog skedaddled after Tommy, giving Aidan one backward, baleful glance as he left. He’d never had to choose before.

  Aidan watched his son walk away from him. It was the worst sight he had ever seen.

  Aidan let himself back into the cottage with Sarah’s key. He’d have to get another cut. But not yet. He followed the voices into the kitchen. Sarah and Maia were sitting together at the table, heads bowed over a drawing that Maia was doing. Another dolphin, no doubt. The walls of the cottage were already plastered with dolphin pictures. Some were stuck to the fridge. Others, the ones Sarah considered the best, were framed and hung. But they were all bloody good. Star in every possible position, at every conceivable angle. Sarah looked up as he entered. Her smile almost made it worth it. ‘Nice walk?’

  ‘It was grand.’

  ‘Did you meet anyone?’ She was studying him intently.

  ‘Not a sinner.’

  She visibly relaxed and turned her attention back to Maia.

  Aidan left the kitchen and walked quietly up the stairs. He hesitated before entering Sarah’s room and sitting on the bed. This wasn’t his room. Should he even be in here? Was he invading her space? Her priva
cy? All that had seemed so clear, so certain, was now dissolving. He covered his face with his hands and rubbed his eyes. They felt heavy and full of grit. He saw Tommy so clearly – his anguish. Heard his voice, the hurt, the accusation. But he’d done it now. It was done. But far from over.

  Back at home, in the kitchen, Tommy dialled a number. It rang three times.

  ‘Hello.’

  ‘Alannah.’

  ‘That you, Tom?’

  ‘You need to come home.’

  ‘What do you mean, come home? Is something wrong?’

  ‘It’s Mam and Dad.’

  Chapter 29

  Aidan sat watching the house for some time. There was no telling who was home, if anybody. No signs of life were visible through the downstairs windows and nothing had stirred when he pulled into the driveway. He had driven, lacking the courage to walk through the streets of the town where he had been born.

  He left the sanctuary of the car and went around to the back of the house. The door was unlocked as usual. Rufus clambered to his paws when he walked into the kitchen. It was the only welcome he was likely to receive. Breathing a little easier, he walked through the rooms, marvelling at their familiarity, marvelling at the fact that he didn’t live there any more. He walked up the stairs, his ears like antennae, his eyes like radar, scanning for signs of life. There were none. The house was empty.

  He walked into the bedroom and took a sharp breath. Husband and wife stared at each other for several interminable seconds. Fiona was still in her pyjamas. She was crumpled-looking.

  ‘Get out.’

  ‘Fi, I –’

  ‘Don’t call me that. Get out.’

  ‘We should –’

  ‘I’m not interested in anything you have to say, Aidan. Just get out of my house and don’t come back. What are you doing here anyway?’

  ‘I came to pick up a few things.’

  ‘So you didn’t even come here to talk to me. I suppose you thought I’d be in work. Bloody coward.’

  ‘Maybe we should talk –’

  ‘Get out!’ she screamed at him.

  Aidan held up his hands and backed out of the room. Fiona advanced across the floor and slammed the door in his face.

  Fiona waited for the sounds: his steps on the stairs, the back door closing, the car pulling out of the driveway. Only when there was complete silence did she sink to the carpet and hold her body tight. She envied Sarah Dillon – not because she had Aidan but because, for her, the pain would soon be over.

  She lay there for – she didn’t know how long. There was no sun to track across the sky. And her body clock told her nothing any more. Her body seemed to be rebelling against sleep. Well, if it didn’t want her to sleep, what did it want her to do? She was damned if she could see the point of all those extra hours to her day. Her days were far too difficult to get through as it was without tacking extra redundant hours to the end of them. Or the beginning of them, depending on what hour of the morning or evening it was.

  Her stomach no longer required food. As she was little more than an ear, she heard the car pulling into the driveway, then the voices outside. The voices were on the deck. Now in the house. Downstairs. Now coming up the stairs. Someone opened the bedroom door. Footsteps. In front of her. Someone knelt on the floor beside her.

  ‘Mammy.’

  ‘Alannah,’ she whispered. She half sat up and allowed her daughter to engulf her. Tommy was there too, half hugging his sister, half hugging her. The three of them clinging together for dear life.

  Sarah’s body also seemed to be rebelling against sleep, as if it was trying to steal some extra hours of life to make up the time she was destined to lose. It was an interesting strategy for it to take, loyal, even, although it was a battle it couldn’t win. The trouble was that those extra hours inevitably fell in the middle of the night – the darkness closing in on her, her thoughts accelerating, her fears magnifying to atomic levels. Night terrors. Could it really have been only a couple of days since she saw the consultant? It felt like years.

  It was then that she reached out for Aidan, his arms engulfing her in his comforting, life-affirming, all-enveloping bear-hug. The only thing that could save her from oblivion. And it was in those moments that she knew she couldn’t hand him back to Fiona. That her need was far greater than the other woman’s. Even though she herself was the other woman. And if that meant she was going directly to hell then so be it.

  There came a morning when Sarah’s mood was buoyant. The sun was out and she was happy. Aidan couldn’t tell if it was forced or real. She might be trying to keep his spirits up, as he was doing for her. But he doubted it. She seemed genuine. Which was more of a concern. How long was she going to dwell in this state of denial? Aidan didn’t know much about these things, but he recalled reading once about the different stages of grief. One was denial, he was sure. Although maybe that applied to loved ones left behind.

  ‘Let’s go for a swim.’ She beamed at him.

  His chest constricted. Going out in public. Together. She was looking at him expectantly. He couldn’t disappoint her. ‘Okay, then.’ Had to happen some time.

  They got ready – like a typical family heading out for a typical day on the beach. Picnic lunch prepared. Bucket and spade for the child. Swimsuits, sunhats, sunscreen, sunglasses. Mother and daughter completely oblivious.

  Out on the pavement, they began to walk: Sarah and Maia hand in hand ahead, Aidan lagging several steps behind. He felt as if he was going to face a firing squad. Dead man walking.

  The town was busy. Cars and people coming and going. He reasoned with himself that it wasn’t all that unusual for him to be seen with Sarah and Maia. It had been common knowledge that he used to take them out on his boat.

  They were there now, at the cove. Nothing had happened so far. Perhaps he’d been worrying unnecessarily. He scanned the beach and saw no one he recognized. Tourists. They were safe.

  The day was so normal as to be surreal. The clouds were high and wispy, the water calm. Mother and daughter collected shells in daughter’s bucket. Daughter emptied shells out and arranged them into rows. Aidan watched like some bare-chested guardian, his jeans rolled up, his shorts back at the house – if Fiona hadn’t burned them yet or cut them to ribbons and left them out for the binmen. He hoped it had made her feel better if she had.

  Star showed up, which was good. It meant that everyone was looking at her and not at them. But it wasn’t just that. The presence of the dolphin seemed to raise the bar on everybody’s happiness. The laughter of the children. The excitement. Who could fail to be infected by the joy?

  Before long Sarah, who’d been in the water, waded out and sat down beside him.

  ‘Is something wrong?’ he asked.

  ‘No. Why should something be wrong?’

  ‘No reason. You usually stay in for longer, that’s all.’

  She shrugged and wrapped a towel around her wet legs.

  ‘Are you cold?’

  ‘No, Aidan. I’m fine.’ Her response was terse. But she relaxed again as she watched Maia splash alongside the other children – not with them, exactly, but close enough to create the illusion of normal play.

  It was mid-afternoon and their picnic lunch was long gone. Aidan worried that the temperature was dropping. ‘We should go.’

  ‘All right.’ Sarah seemed lost in her own private dreamworld. ‘As soon as Maia’s finished in the water.’

  ‘Okay.’

  She came back to his reality. ‘You know what I’d love?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘A mug of coffee and a sticky bun.’

  He smiled. ‘We don’t have much food in.’

  ‘No, I meant in a café.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘That lovely little place on the harbour. You know the one.’

  ‘The Melting Pot.’

  ‘That’s it!’

  It was Fiona’s favourite too.

  ‘We’ll go there.’

  Aidan s
aid nothing. If she sensed his apprehension, she didn’t let on. It wasn’t like her to be insensitive, obtuse, but he could hardly expect her to be her usual self. And he felt ill-equipped to deny her anything right now.

  Maia finally emerged and stood impassively as her mother dried her off. She looked better, Aidan thought, better than he’d ever seen her. Less fragile, more sturdy. Less pale, more pink. Less blank, more animated. No wonder Sarah chose to focus on her.

  The Melting Pot was hopping, only two tables empty. They sat down at one. Aidan felt like sliding under it. The place was full of people he knew. He felt eyes boring into him. He felt no goodwill, only ill. Was it just his guilty conscience?

  They sat for ten, fifteen minutes or more. No one came near them. Sarah was growing progressively impatient, repeatedly trying to catch the waitress’s eye. Aidan was developing a severe sense of foreboding. ‘I think we should leave.’

  ‘No way. There’s a bun up there with my name on it.’

  Before he could stop her, she was out of her chair. She walked up to the counter and it seemed to Aidan that every eye was on her, every breath held.

  ‘Excuse me.’ Her actor’s voice rang out clear as a bell. ‘We’d like to order some food, please.’

  The woman behind the counter was Mag O’Neill. Aidan had gone to school with her brother.

  ‘We’ve finished serving for the evening.’

  ‘What? But it’s not even four.’

  ‘Sorry. Service is over.’ The woman held up her hands as if there was nothing she could do, although she ran the place. Aidan caught her eye – and felt himself turned to stone.

  ‘But that’s ridiculous.’ Sarah was becoming irate. ‘You always serve far later than this.’

  ‘Sarah.’ Aidan was behind her, holding her arm. ‘We should go.’