by Alisa Mullen
“Okay,” she whispered. “I’ll go. Thank you.”
I nodded. “No problem. I hope you learn some killer moves for the boys back home.” I faked a decent smile and pulled away from our conversation with my body. Her hand snapped out to wrap her small fingers around my bicep. I looked down at it – noticing her damn touch was making my skin sizzle and goose bumps flashed over the rest of my very hot tempered body. One touch and she had changed the balance of my body’s regulation. I looked up at her in question.
“Did I do something wrong, Sean? Was I supposed to ring you and didn’t because I was so busy at work and I wanted to ring but…” Her Irish rambling was so hard not to respond to. I could listen to her talk all day long.
“No, nothing like that, Aoife. You are great. I just – I don’t know. You and Freddie seemed pretty tight when I drove past looking for a parking spot.” I was a dick. Even I knew that I just sounded like a jealous dick.
Her face paled and that’s all I needed to know. I took her grip off my arm and turned around. Walking away wasn’t hard because she had given me the look of confirmation. I was nearly half a block away when I heard her voice scream after me.
“He doesn’t like that I like you, Sean. He thinks my da will be angry and he will hurt me. My dad is not a nice person, Sean. Freddie knows how I grew up, how a bunch of us girls grow up in the Estates. I left Ireland because I couldn’t watch him drink another bottle of whisky. I left because I needed a break from his demands on me. I work and work so I can keep us in the house. I would rather live on the streets, Sean. I can’t not take care of my family. People – they would talk and I would be more of an outsider in my town than I already am.”
I hadn’t realized that I had turned around and walked half way back to her as she walked the other half to me. We were facing each other on the bustling city street, staring at one another with wide eyes. Her chest was heaving. My breath was audible. I grabbed the back of her neck and drew her beautiful lips to mine. I devoured those lips. I gave them my hope, my promise, and my security. I didn’t care who noticed us or knew how much I wanted this woman. There was no choice to be made. Reason was a dead end road. My resilient heart was fighting for my body and mind now. For us. I resolved to sit back and let its pounding beat kick the shit out of anything that got between me and Aoife.
And as I kissed her, I loved on her lips like I loved her complete being. She wouldn’t be a victim to anyone anymore. She wouldn’t be told who she could or could not see ever again. She was mine to protect – if she wanted it. I waited for what felt like forever. Finally, her arms wrapped around my waist and fisted into my shirt, just like they had the other night. She needed me. I needed her. Our love for one another was fused.
I separated our lips and she let out a little sigh. “So you and Freddie aren’t a thing?”
Her look was priceless. “Sean, if I could just have your lips alone, I would break up the Prince of England.”
“My lips, huh?” I asked, smugly as shit because damn fucking straight. I wrapped my arms around her as she giggled into my lips once again.
“You wouldn’t want my queen sized mattress and dresser?” I asked into her ear in the throatiest voice I could manage.
“What?” When she pulled away, my body literally reacted. I needed her person on my person now. Maybe forever.
I motioned to the truck with my head and her hand flew over her mouth. I swear I saw her eyes well up but I stopped that shit right quick as I pushed her lower back towards the full bed of the trunk.
“Wow, you brought me furniture,” she said in awe. “And it looks very nice.”
“I brought us furniture. I don’t actually have to work,” I confessed, biting my lip and throwing my baseball hat on backwards. “I, uh, I am all yours through Wednesday morning if you will have me.”
Her nod was fierce. I smiled like a little boy getting a brand new puppy. I let out a huge exhale and kissed her forehead. Together, we moved my furniture into her apartment.
***
“Do you think they will teach us how to kick a guy in the nuts like that lady did the other night?” Aoife excitedly asked me as we were walking towards Maverick’s Academy. I chuckled. Somehow I knew that out of all the great things to be gained from learning karate, she would just want to know how to kick a guy in the balls. It wasn’t lost on me that she had scars – she admitted that her father was mean, and that she was so dedicated to learning karate that I don’t think anything would get in her way.
Did he hit her? Was he the one that put those scars on her stomach? She mentioned something about how being homeless was a luxury in Ireland. Wasn’t that what she said?
“What are you thinking about?” She asked, looking very curious.
“You. All I think about is you. You are…very mysterious, Aoife,” I claimed.
“Mysterious? Pfttt.” She blew out. “What kind of mystery am I, Mr. Sean Ford?”
“You won’t tell me everything. I mean, why do you want to take martial arts?” My side glance was directed at her eyes with purpose and maybe a little antagonistic.
“In Ireland, some men are assholes, Sean. Just like here, yeah? Women are hurt all over the world. I live alone in Boston for the next few months. I should know these things,” she answered with a very well thought out speech. She didn’t fumble one single word. She was a genius. Of course, that answer would appease anyone else but I saw the scars. I saw her response to my reaction to seeing the scars.
“Yeah, you’re right. If you think I am being an asshole, would you just tell me to leave? I don’t want to lose my nuts this summer,” I laughed.
I opened the main door to the school and we stepped into a waiting area. It looked like Jenny – the girl I had spoken with – was still on her shift. Her eyes swept up to see the guests and then they did a double take back to me. I always got one of two reactions to my completely tattooed body. Either women were taken aback because it was too much to look at or they were instantly attracted to me and didn’t even notice the little details of my marks. I don’t think any girl that I dated has ever learned where certain tattoos are. I can tell you that Aoife definitely has my back memorized.
Jenny?
She just took in the entire body and was like “whoa.” Aoife didn’t miss it and started tracing the Celtic symbol for eternal love on my back, exactly where it was. How she knew, being that it was under a black tank top, I would never know. Maybe she woke up and stared at me while I was sleeping, too.
Jenny fumbled with some papers and Aoife rolled her eyes.
“Yeah, we are here for the beginner Kenpo Karate?” I said as I walked to the desk and put out my hand to shake. Her hand instantly went into mine and held on a little too long without any answer back.
Silent moments clouded the waiting room until my ray of sunshine cleared her throat and repeated what I had just said in a slightly bitchier tone.
“My boyfriend and I are taking a karate course here. Can ya tell us where we should be going to do that?” She asked. Okay, she wasn’t slightly bitchier – she was a bitch. I fucking loved it.
That somehow got Jenny out of her fixation on my tattooed sleeves to look up at the girl with the beautiful Irish accent. Jenny then smiled at her, like she may have gone both ways. Aoife caught on and looked over at me. When we both raised our eyebrows at the same time, we couldn’t help but laugh.
Poor Jenny didn’t get it. Silently, she motioned for us to follow her back to the hall on the left. The first door on the right had a sign that read Kenpo Karate.
“Wow, that was easy,” I said dryly as Jenny opened the door for us. There were about four other people waiting in a small circle. One very tall man stood out from the rest and thanked Jenny before coming towards us.
He wore sweatpants and no shirt and he was ripped. I felt like an idiot since it had been a little while since I had lifted. Why had I stopped? Work got in the way, I guess. Work got in the way of a lot of things. I had that epiphany as th
e man introduced himself as Michael, one of the masters of something with the Academy.
Was I supposed to bow my head? All of a sudden, I felt very self-conscious. I looked over at Aoife and she was clearly not. She was soaking up every word Michael was saying. Kenpo is the art of movement, using our body’s strength to defend ourselves in the case of being attacked.
He went on to say that we would learn about flash movements and how to balance our weight in certain ways to offset the balance of others. I heard was he was saying, but was I really listening? Nope. Aoife. I was listening to her silence. She told me, through the way she listened intently to Michael, that she was interested in this world. She wanted to experience as much as she could while she was alive. She also told me that self-image meant nothing to her. If it did, it didn’t affect her to the core of her heart. She was strong. She was inquisitive and she looked so bloody hot in those yoga pants and black tank top.
My hand went out to go around her waist because I had to feel her close to me. She was startled when I did, breaking the conversation that she was having with Michael. I guess it was then that he realized she was here with someone. Was everyone in this place horny? Was Kenpo karate class the new speed dating?
Michael excused himself and clapped his hands together to get the rest of the group to follow his lead. I would like to say that for the next forty five minutes I learned how to do karate. We stretched, we balanced on a foot, and we punched each other with gloves and mitt like things. We even tried to do a few kicks. All in all it was an interesting first class. For Aoife, it was something so much more. She was in love. Even after people were leaving the class, she was still punching into air while Michael showed her where to “draw her strength from.”
This girl had no problems remembering where to draw her strength from. She was the definition of strong. She had the word strong by the balls. When it was time for her to fight, every bone, every muscle, and every cell in her body would be rock-hard and begging for a release. She would unleash only on who deserved it the most - whoever that was.
That night, after we showered, again individually – at her request – we got take out and made up the mattress into a bed so we could make sweet love to one another all night long. Neither one of us slept a wink. It was glorious.
Chapter Eighteen
Sean
By the end of that week, we were both dragging. I had to work Friday night and she called to see if I would be picking her up. I wanted to go down. I really did but I was so damn tired. Throughout the entire week, I had only slept eight hours total. I was worthless at work on Tuesday and I honestly didn’t know how I would draw a straight line on paper, let alone work on a tattoo. Aoife was really disappointed but I almost feared for the life of others driving on the road with me and told her I just couldn’t.
When I got to The Ink Shop, I asked about the weekend openings and there weren’t very many for some reason. I hadn’t taken a vacation since I had opened the damn place almost five years earlier, so I told them that I would give out my clients to a few of the artists that were solid and rearrange the longer projects for later on. I needed a week of sleep. And that’s what I intended to do. I showed up at The Ink Shop around six o’clock and left after one client and dealing with Clove to rearrange the rest. Everyone was happy. The boss man wouldn’t be around, some of the smokes would get extra cash, and I would have a solid week of sleeping with my babe.
I didn’t call her as I headed straight to her after I left work. It was late and even if she had decided to go out, she had given me a key during the week. I just wanted our bed in our room in our apartment in the city. It felt more like my room than my actual room felt. I was a total sucker for sleeping with her. Those few hours we did rest, Aoife fit so perfect underneath my armpit and I always put my chin on top of her head so that every part of our body was touching. We were fucking beautiful together. I didn’t know what my life was like before I had met her and well… what was to come? Yeah, I knew I was screwed. I didn’t care. She was here now and I was driving to her.
I found a regular parking spot and nearly crawled to the door. It was open and I heard someone yelling. I poked my head in and noticed that Aoife’s front door was also open and I quickly moved into her apartment. She was yelling. No, she wasn’t yelling, she was screeching. Her words were slurred and she sounded like someone had just insulted her in the worst way. She was verbally bitch-slapping whoever was on the receiving end. I rounded the corner discreetly. Her face was in her palm as she sat at the card table I had brought over. She was on her cell phone and I could hear a man’s voice coming through the other end.
“No, Da. You tell them that I am not there and I won’t be back for weeks. You tell them that you will have the money in a few days and bloody hell, Da - you aren’t to use the money for the whisky this time. I can’t have ya out on the street. You wouldn’t like it. Please, Da,” she stopped talking and it looked like it was physically painful to listen. She started squeezing her stomach, then tracing lines over her stomach where I knew her scars were.
For some reason, that motion she made with her hands broke me. I must have made some kind of noise because her watery, unfocused eyes found mine and her jaw dropped at my pained face that I felt. She clicked the phone off almost immediately.
“Who was that?” I demanded.
“You know who it was.”
“Why does he need money, Aoife?” Still demanding, still pissed at seeing her squeeze her stomach.
“To live, Sean. They all – we all – need the money to live. If not, we die. We need money for our drink and our food and for our lives. If you don’t have money, your mam can’t get help for her disease and she dies.”
I shook my head. “Who is coming for the money, Aoife?”
She stood up, swaying a bit and shook her fists as she put the phone down on the breakfast nook with gentle precision. She might be loaded but she was still very conscious of what she was doing.
“There are boys in my neighborhood that sometimes bet on things with my da. He does a lot of really bad things.”
I nodded and then flicked my eyes at the half bottle of whisky laid out on the card table. I hadn’t even noticed that.
“Did you drink all that yourself?” I asked. Her head flipped around and nodded as she looked back at me.
“Ye. Do you want a drink?”
I nodded slowly, not knowing what the hell to do or think. I was too tired. I came here to snuggle with my sweet Irish Aoife. I got a pissed off and drunk daughter that could hardly walk.
She poured me a half a glass full and my eyes widened as she kept pouring.
“Okay, that’s good to start with, sweetheart,” I said as I pulled the bottle from the cup and out of her hands.
“See, you call me sweetheart and that is just so nice. You are an American man, sweet and fucking gorgeous. You are amazing in bed and God, you have the most beautiful cock, but I can’t have you,” she squeezed her eyes together as she tried to grip at something in the air.
I took a swill from the cup and holy fuck – that was some strong shit.
“Baby, you can have me as long as you want me. I took a week off from work. I want you. I can sleep with you every night, if you want me.”
“You are here for me? To stay?” She started getting a little whiny. “I don’t need your money because I make a lot of money here in Boston, in America.”
I tried to wrap my brain around that statement but came up empty. Yeah, she was friggin’ wasted. I just smiled at her. She was adorable even when inebriated.
“And you like me even though, I have these,” she whined as she stripped her white tee shirt off and reveal not only scars across her stomach but pieces of skin on her chest that looked like it had been bitten off or…cut…out? Holy mother of all that was holy in this entire world.
I abruptly stood, knocking the cup of whisky over and went to her. She had a blank look on her face as she watched my movements. I held up my hands in sur
render.
“Aoife. I want to hold you, baby. Can I please hold you?” I asked – a tremor at the end of each word. She closed her eyes and one tear fell over her cheek.
I couldn’t move. All I saw was the purple discoloration of those pieces of skin and that one cut between her breasts that looked so deep and never cared for. She rubbed at that one as I watched her and I couldn’t fucking take it anymore.
I knelt down in front of her and started on the small cuts. With every kiss I made to one, another choking sound came out of her throat. It almost sounded like she was gagging as she let me love on her hate. Lick her ugly. She wasn’t ugly. She wasn’t hateful. She was… cut into pieces and left to heal in the only way she knew how. Alone. Hidden.
Why had she uncovered herself for me? Would I have done this so soon? She was so brave. Maybe so drunk, but so damn brave. I picked her up after soothing every inch of her belly and took her to our bed.
“Can we go to sleep now, sweetheart?” I grinned down at her mess of a face, looking scared and vulnerable, like a child that had lost their mother forever.
She wrapped her thin arms around my neck and nodded into my neck. “I think I might be in love with you,” she whispered.
“I think I might be in love with you, too,” I stated. I wanted her to hear it. It wasn’t a whisper. It was a bold declaration.
She looked at me wide-eyed while I lay her down on her side of the bed. I took off her pants and underwear in one sweep. I was undressed by the time I made it to the other side of the bed where I got underneath and immediately drew her naked body against mine. I kissed her shoulders – I kissed her chest, scars and all. I intertwined our fingers together and let her head fall on my chest. Within minutes, her heavy breathing became a small snore and that’s how I found out that not only was I really in love for the first time ever in my life but that I was in love with a victim of emotional and physical abuse.
I was way in over my head. I was scared for myself but I wouldn’t leave. Life wasn’t tranquil and uncomplicated. It got messy and unclear at times. This was one of those times. Life handed out genuine consequences for reckless choices. Fair trade to the common person, yes, but to those still in the mix, fair wasn’t a word spoken without a negative inference. We, as family members, were the byproduct of their choices and we suffered just as greatly. Aoife suffered the most and she never got to choose. She was either one big problem or one absolute solution for her family.