My Life in Shambles: A Novel

by Halle, Karina

  “Hey!” Padraig snaps at her, jabbing the air with his finger, his jaw clenched. “You don’t know anything and if ye say anything more, I’m going to personally toss your arse out of this room, is that clear?”

  “Padraig!” his father croaks, trying to stand up but the nurse is at him, already pushing him back down. “Don’t ye speak to anyone that way in this house of mine. Let Gail have her say and then tell us the fucking truth about what the hell is going on here!”

  Gail folds her arms. “I’m done with what I have to say. I’m only looking out for ye, Colin. You’re as dear to me as my own father is. When I found out that they were lying to ye, I couldn’t stand it. You deserved to know the truth about your own son, especially with what time ye have left.”

  What a fucking bitch, I think, shaking my head at her, gripping Padraig’s hand so tight that I my nails are leaving marks. If she really cared, she wouldn’t have said anything. Poor Colin looks like he’s about to have a heart attack for real.

  “I’m so sorry, dad,” Padraig says to him, pleading with so much shame in his eyes. “I just wanted ye to think that I had it all together. I wanted ye to know I was doing well, that I had all the things that mam wanted for me. I thought if I brought a girl home and told ye we were getting married, maybe ye could be proud of me or happy or something. Anything, dad, I would take anything from ye.”

  This is so fucking heartbreaking to watch.

  His father shakes his head slightly, his fingers curling around the edge of his table cloth. “You lied to me. You lied to me on my deathbed.” He looks at me. “Both of ye did. You wanted the fucking ring and I gave it to you and you … you …” He takes in a shuddering breath, eyes wide.

  Oh god.

  “Colin,” the nurse says, still standing beside him, her hands on his shoulders. “Colin, please take it easy. Deep breaths.” She looks over his head at Agnes. “We should probably take him to his bed.”

  “I’m not going anywhere!” he barks with a surprising amount of strength and slams his fist on the table, making the silverware jump. “How dare ye do this? How dare ye come into my home and lie to us. To take her ring. You …” he points at us wildly, “you proposed to her there, ye said things over that ring that weren’t true. That’s blasphemy. You’ll be cursed for that!”

  “They were true. Everything I said was true,” Padraig pleads. “I love Valerie, I do with all my heart.”

  “That’s a bucket of shite! How am I supposed to believe that when ye have lied about everything else? How am I supposed to believe that you can even love someone else when ye never showed any love toward your own father!”

  “Because my own father never loved me!” Padraig yells back. “You never showed me any love, you just pushed me away and suffered for your loss, but guess what, I lost, too! I lost my mam and my sister and then I lost you. You might be dying now but I feel like I lost you a long time ago!”

  “Ach, away with ye,” Colin says, looking disgusted. He glances up at his nurse and points to the backdoor. “Take me away from here. I don’t want to have to listen to any of this.” She starts to pull out the wheelchair and he glances at Padraig, pain in his eyes. “You made me the fool, son. You played with my heart and my feelings so that you could feel better about yourself.” He pauses, practically spits on the floor. “You are my life’s biggest disappointment.”

  Padraig drops my hand. I’m afraid he might just fall over in general, so I put my arm around his waist to support him. We both stare, speechless, as the nurse opens the door and wheels Colin out into the back yard.

  “Well, I think I’ve lost my appetite,” Agnes says quietly, throwing her napkin on the salad. She gets to her feet so she’s standing across from us.

  She doesn’t say anything.

  But I know everything she’s feeling.

  How hurt and disappointed she is in us, too.

  She clears her throat. “I’m going to go lie down for a while. I don’t wish to be disturbed.” Then she turns and heads to the stairs.

  Gail is already gone. She must have left during the yelling match.

  Leaving only Major who is digging into his salad.

  Padraig seems like he’s in a trance. I can feel the pain radiating off of him, the sadness and the fear and the guilt. Everything we tried so hard to avoid is now out and it’s hurt everyone we know.

  “He’ll come around, ye know,” the Major says through a mouthful of food, surprising us.

  We turn to look at him.

  “What?” Padraig’s asks, his voice broken.

  The Major nods at the door and swallows. “Your father. Colin. He’ll come around. He’s just a little hurt, that’s all, and he’s always had an explosive temper, just like you Padraig, but in time he’ll understand that ye did it to help him. I can see that.” He nods at me. “And I can see you two truly do love each other.”

  A tepid smile tugs at my lips. “So you heard all that?”

  He frowns at me. “What?”

  “Nevermind,” I tell him. “Enjoy your dinner.”

  “What?”

  I just give him a wave and lead Padraig away from the table and over to his room.

  “I’ve lost him,” Padraig says, stunned, as he sits down on his bed. He looks up at me with tears in his eyes. “Even before he’s gone I’ve lost him. I’m his life’s biggest disappointment.”

  I swallow the own tears in my throat. “At least it’s all out in the open now.”

  He gives me an acidic smile that chills me. “There is no silver lining here, Valerie. So don’t go looking for one.”

  20

  Padraig

  The next morning it’s like winter has settled inside the house.

  It’s cold, not just temperature wise, but seems devoid of any love and any life. Sterile and unforgiving.

  Valerie wakes up in my bed. I didn’t think we’d get in shite for it from Nan since she looked at us yesterday like we were a pair of strangers to her. Usually she’s feisty and angry and reactive but to get that deep, cold chill from her hurts more than anything else.

  Almost as much as what happened with my father.

  I knew I should have kept it a secret since we had kept it a secret so long. But with Gail wanting to rat us out, I knew that it was better coming from us than from her.

  And so it all came out.

  All of it.

  Not just the lie but the lies I’ve told myself all these years.

  That I was strong.

  Successful.

  That I was someone.

  But last night exposed me for who I truly am.

  Just a scared little boy needing approval from his dad.

  And then …

  He called me his life’s biggest disappointment.

  I don’t think any words have ever cut deeper, right beyond my heart, to that black space inside me. It struck me there, wedging itself in forever.

  Disappointment.

  And he’s right.

  That’s all there is to it.

  I spent my life trying to be the best that I could be. My dad loved falconry, so I took an interest in falconry. I knew my dad couldn’t continue his dream of playing rugby, so I picked up those dreams and I ran with them. I trained and I played and I fought to be the player I became. I had the money and the fame and the security my father didn’t. But it still didn’t matter. He still wasn’t proud.

  I just wasn’t good enough.

  It was only over this last month that I began to see him open up, just a little. To see him with Valerie, to catch a glimpse of him watching us together, light in his eyes.

  All of that was real. That’s what I wish he could know. That’s what I need to tell him, even if he won’t listen. What he saw, what he witnessed, all of it was real, right down to the way I proposed. I meant all of it when it came to Valerie. The only lies were semantics, they didn’t matter.

  The truth was I found the woman I do want to spend the rest of my life with.

  S
he’s in bed with me, looking at me with her soulful blue eyes.

  She’s in pain too. She takes things to heart—she has such a beautiful heart—and I know her relationship with my dad and my nan were important to her too.

  All evening we stayed up in this room with a bottle of whisky and just talked in hushed voices about how we felt, what we needed to do, how we were going to get through this. It all felt so promising last night but in the cold reality of this morning, it seems harder to crack than ice.

  “I think we slept in,” Valerie says quietly, pulling the covers up to her chin.

  “Probably for the best.” Lord knows I can sleep forever these days.

  We eventually get up and out of bed and get dressed, heading out to the dining room.

  It’s been cleared, just as we thought. I think we both slept in so we wouldn’t have to deal with the awkwardness of breakfast.

  There’s just the Major, sitting in an armchair in the corner with his tea and the newspaper.

  “Ah, morning Major,” I say him in my best Basil Fawlty impression.

  He doesn’t hear me and the paper obscures us from his view.

  I head on over and stand in front of him. When he lowers the paper to flip the page, he sees me and jumps in his seat.

  “Good heavens!” he cries out. “You put my heart crossway, ye did.”

  “Sorry, Major,” I say. “Where is everyone today?”

  He folds the paper in his lap. “Where is what?”

  I lean in closer. “Where. Is. Everyone?”

  “Ah, you overslept, ye did.” He winks at Valerie. “Well, let’s see. Your dad is in the cottage with the nurse.”

  “Did ye see him at breakfast?”

  “Nah, he wasn’t up to it. And your nan went into Shambles for some groceries.”

  “Isn’t that Gail’s job?”

  “Gail? Yea, well Gail won’t be returning back.”

  I exchange a glance with Valerie and back to Major. “What do ye mean she’s not coming back?”

  “She came by this morning, right before breakfast mind ye, which made things run a little late but anyway, and she told yer nana that she was done. I guess she doesn’t want to work here anymore, but between you and I, I’m quite okay with that. She was always a bit of a Holy Joe, if ye know what I mean.”

  “Does Holy Joe mean the same as hoor?” Valerie mumbles under her breath.

  “Ah, no, Holy Joe means she’s real righteous like,” Major says and starts flipping back through the paper. “A hoor means she’s a hoor.”

  I look at Val and smile. How he heard that, I have no idea. Something tells me the Major’s hearing is more selective than we thought.

  Since breakfast is over, we make some coffee and put it in travel mugs and decide to head outside for a walk. It’s a beautiful day, the sun is out and making the frost shimmer, and our breath is rising in the air, mixing with the steam from the mugs. For a moment it feels like we’re just taking a walk and enjoying the day and that everything is back to normal. Even my balance seems fine and I’m not in any pain.

  Except in my heart.

  That pain hasn’t dislodged a bit.

  “So what do we do now?” Val asks me as we head down the lane, walking to nowhere in particular.

  “What do you mean?” I ask warily, having a sip of my coffee. I don’t want to discuss anything anymore, don’t want to think about what happened. I just want to be.

  “I mean, us. You. Me. What do we do? How do we move forward from this? Your dad is still dying. Your nan is still here and so are we and we can’t be ignored forever.”

  “I have to talk to them,” I tell her with a heavy sigh. “That’s all we can do. I have to get them to know that what they saw wasn’t a lie. What they witnessed between us, the fact that we love each other, that wasn’t fake. They’ll just have to believe me.”

  “And if they don’t? What if they hold a grudge forever?”

  “Well I fucking hope not because neither of them have forever.” Which makes my stomach clench in pain. There’s so little time now and I’m not sure if I can even begin to make things right.

  “What about me?” she says quietly.

  “What about ye?”

  “Well, I don’t know … what are we doing? Now the charade is over and I’m still here. How long do I stay here for?”

  I know she’s asking an innocent question but it makes me snap at her. “Stay or go, I don’t care. Do what ye like.”

  She stops in her tracks. “Padraig!” she exclaims, fire in her eyes. “What you mean you don’t care?”

  I roll my eyes. “It’s up to ye, sweetheart. Whatever ye want to do. If ye want to get the fuck out of here and go back to New York, I wouldn’t blame ye. You don’t belong in this big fucking mess.”

  She looks crestfallen. “Is that what you want?”

  “Of course that’s not what I want.” She should know that by now.

  She takes a step over to me and grabs my free hand. “Then when I ask how long I should stay, tell me how long you want me to.”

  “Like I said, whatever ye want.”

  She rips her hand out of mine. “What’s your problem?”

  “My problem?” I can scarcely believe my ears. “You don’t know what my problem is? I have many problems, darlin’, which one do I start with?”

  “With me, Padraig,” she says patiently. “What’s your problem with me? You’ve been snapping at me lately. I’m on your side, remember?”

  I exhale loudly, closing my eyes and throwing my head back to the sky. She’s right. I have been. I’ve had nest of wasps in my heart lately and it can’t all be blamed on what happened last night, though that certainly doused that nest with gasoline and set it all on fire.

  “I’m sorry,” I say, looking at her. “I don’t know what it is. Maybe it’s the medication.”

  Too bad there’s no medicine for fear.

  “It could also be your brain,” she says. “MS can alter your moods and the way you think.”

  I raise my brow. Sometimes I hate how much knowledge she has about my disease.

  It’s like dating my doctor.

  That thought throws me off. I really need to work on bettering my mood for the sake of our relationship. I’m turning into a real wanker.

  “You know what else alters your mood?” I say to her, but I add a smile. “Being diagnosed with fucking MS.”

  “Well, hopefully those anti-depressants kick in soon,” she says.

  “Wouldn’t that be nice.”

  We lapse into silence and walk as far as a big red barn with a collapsed roof. She always likes to take out her phone and take pictures of it but right now we just turn around and head back down the road toward the B&B.

  “I guess I should seriously start looking into freelancing,” she says. “I mean, I’ve had a month and I have barely written anything, just a few paragraphs on falconry.”

  “You’ve had your hands full,” I tell her. “Taking care of me, that’s not easy. And to think, it’s only going to get worse for ye.”

  Her gaze sharpens. “I can handle it.”

  She says that now …

  “We’ll see,” I say. “But don’t think that ye have to write.”

  “I want to.”

  “I know, I’m just saying. If you’re taking care of me that way, I might as well take care of you financially. I’ve been trying to do that all along.”

  “Yeah but …” From the way she sets her mouth, I can tell she’s about to tell me something that might make me defensive.

  “Yeah but what?”

  “You’re not going to be able to play rugby anymore. What will you do for work?”

  My chest feels tight at that, even though it’s a reasonable question. The truth is, my rugby contract pays about seventy-thousand Euros a year, which is a nice amount of money but that’s not the bulk of my money. Most of my big money comes from endorsements and contracts. That rugby calendar was one of them, hawking a certain watch
is another, I even have a lucrative deal for Porsche here in Ireland (hence the SUV). Even when I’m no longer on the team, it’s fairly reasonable to think I’ll still have my endorsements.

  And even if they don’t want a spokesperson with MS, well I’m lucky I made a lot of investments when I was younger.

  In the end, I will be fine, financially.

  But the idea—no, the fact—of never playing for Leinster again is what kills me. Never running out onto the field, hearing my name and the cheers rally around me like a symphony. I will never have that again.

  “It’s okay, we don’t have to talk about it,” Valerie says, putting her hand on my arm. “I—”

  She’s cut off by the high-pitched squeal of an ambulance in the distance, getting closer and closer. Far down the road, near the B&B, flashing lights disappear behind a hedge.

  Oh God, no.

  We glance at each and both take off running down the road, throwing our mugs to the side.

  Valerie can’t run very fast but it’s always been one of my greatest skills and at this moment, I am flawless. I have no disease, no ailment, no pain. I am propelled forward by the muscles in my legs that haven’t forgotten how to work and the adrenaline that’s coursing through my veins. I run faster than I ever have down any pitch.

  I am back at the B&B in minutes, my lungs tested but holding out, my body shaking.

  But it’s from the fear.

  The fear of what’s happening.

  The horror of what I do see.

  An ambulance parked in front of the house, with Major, my nan and the nurse beside it, looking fraught. The medics are pushing a stretcher with my father on it into the back of the vehicle.

  “What happened!?” I cry out, gasping for breath and wild-eyed. My heart is in my throat and I don’t think it’s ever coming down.

  “He collapsed,” Margaret the nurse says to me, “just as I was about to take him for a stroll, he fell out of the wheelchair. His heart rate was too low.”