by Vi Carter
Nothing was going to happen. Nothing bad is going to happen, I remind myself.
I hear a car door open, and then I’m placed on the seat. Lucca slides in beside me.
“How long will I be blindfolded?” I ask.
“Not long,” Lucca says as the car moves under us.
“Can I have some water?”
Silence. Moments later, a bottle touches my lips, and I drink deeply.
I’m restless for most of the journey, and when we stop, I’m ready to rip off the blindfold, but Lucca stops me.
“I need you to trust me.” His words carry a weight that wraps tightly around my throat. It takes me a moment, but I nod.
He helps me out of the car and stands me on the ground. The air is cold but fresh as I take a few steps.
The wind carries a smell that has my stomach tumbling and turning as we walk—turmoil tears through me. Lucca’s hand is solid in mine. I’m a pillar of sand, ready to dissolve. The ground beneath me isn’t firm; it shifts and sinks under my sneakers.
Hope of all hope blossoms like a poisonous plant.
“Where are we?” I ask.
“You're nearly there, Evie.” His voice is a whispered promise in my ear. My fingers dance across the blindfold, but Lucca pulls my hand away.
“Nearly there.”
Cold water pours over my sneakers, filling them. Anyone else would dance away from the contact. My knees turn to jelly, and this time when I reach up and take off the blindfold, Lucca doesn’t stop me. I stare out at the ocean.
Lucca’s hand hasn’t left mine. It’s the only thing that is keeping me still.
I taste the salt on my lips. My lids flutter closed as an onslaught of pain slashes through me. It’s too much.
It’s not enough.
I take a step into the water, letting it brush along my ankles—the waves rock and roar in the distance.
“I’m trying to right my wrongs.” Lucca’s whispered words tear a sob from deep down inside me. All that lay there was rot. I had turned myself inside out for eight years. I had dreamed of returning here, of getting a do-over, and now here I stood. My home is behind me, but I am too afraid to look. I am too afraid of what I will find. So I stand in the waves.
I’m ten again. I’m being turned upside down by the waves. I am back to that moment when I’m sinking, thinking I shouldn’t have left my bed.
Lucca’s warm hand in mine makes me look at him. He’s watching me.
He turns to me and takes my face in his hands. “Your parents are alive.”
A sob pours from my trembling, salty lips.
“They know you are alive. They are waiting for you.” Lucca turns towards the shore, and I follow where he is looking. In the distance, I see my parents’ home, my home. It’s not a mirage. This isn’t a dream.
I’m home. I’m back in County Clare.
This is the moment I thought I would be running through the sand, screaming their names, but I can’t move.
“Do they know?” Tears drip down my face and coat my lips.
“Yes, I told them what happened.”
“Do they know your part in it?” I ask.
Lucca’s hand heats my cheeks. “I told them you escaped and met me, and I helped get you out of the country.”
It wasn’t far from the truth.
I swallow my pain.
“You did all this?”
Lucca releases me now, getting uncomfortable with any praise. My feet sink further into the wet sand, itching to move.
“It’s the least I could do.” Lucca looks away.
I look back at the house and wrap my arms around my waist. The cold has seeped into my shaky bones since Lucca released my face.
“Are they in the house?”
“Yes.”
I close my eyes briefly before looking at the house.
“It’s been eight years.” Eight years of loss and pain.
Eight years of wondering.
The front door of my home opens, and a figure appears. I can barely see as the large man whose memory has kept me alive steps out.
“Dad.” It’s a whispered word filled with pain. He’s moving as if the wind carried my tortured word to him.
“Dad.” This time it isn’t a dream. I’m turning. I’m running towards my dad. Towards everything that kept me breathing all these years.
He meets me halfway, and I’m in his arms. The smell of home pours off him, and I can’t breathe because I’ve made it.
I’m home.
I’m really here. Sobs are pulled from the deepest part of my soul, and my dad’s soon match mine. Another set of arms embrace me. The tremble of our bodies is no match for what’s happening to our soul.
“My baby.” My mother’s cries have me trying to see her face, but she’s buried her head in my neck. Her voice is sweeter than I remember. I’m clinging to my dad who’s strong arms hold me up.
We stay like that for a while. My parents release me and grip my face. “It’s really you.” My mother declares before dragging me back into her arms. My dad smiles, but I see the cracks and damage swirl in his eyes. Crinkles at the side of his eyes and my mother’s graying hair are a true sign of the time that has passed.
My dad presses a kiss to my head. His gaze drifts behind me, and it’s then I remember Lucca.
“He’s the one who brought you back to us?”
I look at Lucca, who’s half watching us with hooded eyes.
“Yes.” I turn, but my mother’s hands don’t release me. “It’s okay, Mam.” I touch her fingers, but she doesn’t release me. I’m drawn back to Lucca.
“He spoke with us on the phone.” My dad is still looking at Lucca.
“Now you can meet him in person.” I smile at Lucca and wave him over. He’s hesitant, but he starts to walk to us. My mother still holds me, and right now, I’m okay with that. The moment Lucca reaches us, he exhales a breath.
“Are you okay?” He asks like my parents aren’t on either side of me.
I want to cry. I want to throw myself into his arms and thank him a million times over. “I am now that we are all together.”
I glance up at my dad. “This is Lucca, my boyfriend.”
I don't know who’s more surprised, Lucca or me. Lucca takes my dad’s outstretched hand and shakes it.
“Thank you, son, for bringing her home.” My dad’s voice shakes like it must have a thousand times over since I’ve been gone.
“Your welcome.” Lucca has that uncomfortable look in his gaze again.
My mother releases me and attaches herself to Lucca. She’s crying, her words a jumble of thanks and pain.
“Come on, let’s get Evie home.” My dad has reclaimed it now. My mam releases Lucca nodding several times.
I hold out my other hand for Lucca. “Let’s go home.”
He takes my hand. My mother sinks into my dad’s other side, and we walk back to the house. The small candle is burning in the window just like I remember. The sight of it twists me up before uncurling itself, and I know right there and then that I am truly home.
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PROLOGUE
MAEVE
Memories.
Sometimes we build them up so high that they take on a life of their own. Sometimes they manifest into beasts that consume us from the inside out. Sometimes life loses its color, and we wait for the harsh reality that is to come.
No one told me it would be this hard.
Sometimes the power of a memory can either destroy us or lift us up.
My beast is a destroyer and wears two faces, one given by Jack O’Reagan and the other by dear old daddy. Yeah, on the same day, these two men seemed to tear me to shreds, a
nd I’ve never been able to put myself back together. I’ve tried. Trust me, I have, but it’s like each time I try to swim, the water rages around my ankles, and its icy fingers tighten painfully as it drags me out to sea until I’m drowning. So, through life, I’ve learned to float.
I try not to think too much or feel too much. So far, I’ve gotten by just fine like that; until more moments build-up, and soon you are looking at a mountain of shit. The shit pile is so high that I can’t see around it anymore. It blocks out all the light and plunges my world into darkness. The sad part is, the one person who might be able to help me is the one who started all this. The one who helped bury me knee-deep in all this pain and suffering.
The irony.
Fourteen years ago…
“Push me higher.” Dana squeals like a princess on some adventure, and I want to be right there with her, so I push her higher, and her squeals of delight force a smile out of me.
“Higher, Maeve.”
Her long dark hair whooshes towards me, and I turn my head to the side, avoiding the sting to my eyes that her long tendrils would inflict. Instead, it’s a short-lived sting to my face as I push her higher. She soars into the sky, her white dress clinging to her ballerina frame, and she continues to laugh, drawing the attention of her mother.
Immediately, I ease down on my pushes. Svetlana smiles at Dana, with one hand on her hip. “Girls, that’s too high.” Her mother is beautiful, just like Dana. She has black hair and crystal blue eyes, which smile even when her mouth doesn’t move. They both make me feel happy and at ease.
“Sorry, mom.” Dana giggles.
Reaching out, I grip the rope in my hands and pull back until it burns my palms, but it slows Dana down, and her mother steps onto the manicured lawn.
“You girls thirsty?” Svetlana glances from me to her daughter. The red dress she wears doesn’t billow in a breeze as I imagine it should with its long tail. It’s as still as the air.
I lick my lips. The sun is high in the sky, and pushing Dana for so long has tired me out. “Yes, please.”
“Maeve, your manners are wonderful,” Svetlana speaks while staring at her daughter, who jumps off the swing and marches into her mother’s outstretched arms. A pin pricks the back of my neck, and I don’t understand the sensation fully, but it disappears when Dana steps out of her mother’s embrace.
“I’ll be just a minute.” Svetlana smiles. Her words are spoken differently than Dana, and I speak. Dana says her mother is from the Czech Republic and is teaching her how to speak some Czech. I wish my mother taught me another language. I wish she taught me anything.
Dana turns to me with a huge smile on her face. “That was so fun.” She’s grinning as she pulls me into her for a hug. I like Dana’s hugs, they are warm as sunshine, and she always smells of home baking.
“Dana, what has dad told you?”
My stomach curls in on itself, and unlike the pricking on the back of my neck, I understand this sensation. My cheeks heat as I look up at Jack, Dana’s older brother.
Ice-blue eyes narrow on me, and my spine straightens. My stomach squirms as he glares at me, and I’m wondering what I’ve done wrong. Each time he looks at me like that, I want to ask why, but my courage fails me, and I’m sinking my heels into the lawn.
“Go away, Jack.” Dana releases me and folds her arms across her chest. I notice her nails are painted a vibrant blue, and I wonder how I hadn’t noticed that before.
Jack still glares at me, and I’m snared in his gaze. I want to snarl at him so he’ll stop looking at me, but at the same time, I hope he never stops looking at me.
“She’s an Outsider, and we don’t mix with them.” He takes a step closer, and my feet sink further into the grass. I want to be brave, but he’s taller, so tall that I have to crane my neck back to look into his eyes.
“Shut your face.” Dana steps closer, and she’s like a warrior from one of her fairy tales. She’s so strong, and sometimes I wish I was like she is.
He releases me from his hold and turns those crystal eyes on his sister. He sneers. “Make me, you little brat.”
I move quicker than I thought possible. My hands reach out, and like I’ve pushed Dana a million times on the swing, they slam into Jack’s chest, and I watch in horror as he stumbles back and he’s falling. A look of utter shock covers his features but turns to anger; when he thuds heavily onto the lawn, he bounces back up and towers over me.
“You little shit.”
I raise my head high. “Touch me, and my dad will kick the shit out of you.”
“I wouldn’t touch you.” The way Jack looks me up and down makes me uncomfortable, and I frown. “I wouldn’t piss on you if you were on fire.”
“Mom!” Dana’s scream pierces the air, making both Jack and I jump apart.
He swings around and steps closer to me, lowering his voice. “You’re scum, and my father doesn’t want you around Dana, and neither do I. We know your kind, and you’re not welcome here. No one wants you here.”
“What did dad tell you?” Jack grabs Dana’s arm and drags her over to me.
I’m staring at my best friend in the world. She chews her lips, and her blue eyes waver. “She’s my friend.”
Jack shakes her, and I’m ready to knock him on his ass again when his sharp gaze pins me to the spot.
I see Svetlana come out the back door with a tray of drinks. Did she think I was scum?
“Tell her.” Jack forces out.
“Dad said that I can’t play with you anymore. That you are an Outsider.”
“Drinks!” Dana’s mother, none the wiser, steps onto the lawn, and Jack releases his sister before stepping into my personal space.
“Now fuck off and run home to your alcoholic mother.”
It’s like a slap to the face. My eyes sting, and when he starts to grin like a shark circling blood, I know I can’t let as much as one tear fall. I’m running past Jack and Svetlana, I’m running home, and the worst part is, Dana doesn’t call me back or follow me. She never tries to stop me.
My small fists pound the blue chipped front door, but no one answers. Jiggling the old handle, the door swings open, and I step into the hall. I’m ready to call for my mother when I hear raised voices coming from the bedroom. I close the door quietly. My brother’s bike rests against the marked wall.
I advance down the hall, and my parents’ bedroom door is open.
“So that’s it, you’re going to run.” My mother snivels, the once pink nightgown is wrapped tightly around her tiny frame. She’s thin, too thin. She blows smoke into my father’s face. Seeing him, something in me softens and turns to goo. I’m ready to call out to him, tell him the horrible things Jack O’Reagan said to me, but something freezes me to the spot.
He stuffs shirts into a bag and glares at my mother. “I’m not running. I’m leaving. I can’t do this anymore with you, Jane.”
My mother grabs the bag with her free hand; the ashes from her burning cigarette landing on the worn-out brown carpet.
“Daddy.” My heart pounds too fast, and I’m tempted to touch my chest. My parents freeze, and my father’s shoulders fall forward like he can’t hold his weight up any longer.
“Sweet Pea.” His smile has all the moving parts slot back into their rightful place. His smile tells me that everything will be okay.
“Where are you going?” I ask.
My dad is so tall, but he bends and kneels before me. His soft brown eyes speak words that I don’t comprehend at ten years of age.
“Daddy has to go away for a while.” My dad reaches out and touches my arms, but I barely register his large hands on my skin.
“Who will take care of me?” The words are whispered because no matter what, I don’t want to hurt my mother’s feelings.
“Your mother will.” My father squeezes my arms and stands. What utter bullshit.
My eyes sting.
My mother takes my father’s place, and the smoke assaults me. I cough, and she hol
ds the cigarette behind her back. This close, I can see every crack around her lips. The gouges grow deeper when she smokes. “I’ll mind you since your father doesn’t want us anymore.”
“Jesus, Jane.” My father drags her to her feet and away from me.
“Is there another woman? Who is she?” My mother’s words are barked.
“What about Declan?” I ask, and both my parents stop and stare at me.
My father shakes his head, and I hate the look of defeat I see in his eyes. “I’m sorry, Sweet Pea.” He turns and continues to pack his bag. The only person who wanted me doesn’t want me anymore.
“I promise. I’ll be better.” My lip trembles, and I want to grab my dad and stop him, but he continues packing.
He won’t look at me. “It’s not you, kiddo.”
“No. It’s me. It’s always me.” My mother stomps over to her vanity set and puts out a cigarette before picking up a mug.
“What’s in the mug, Jane?” My father’s angry words have my mother putting it back down, and she pushes dry blond hair behind her ear.
“Coffee.” I hear the lie; we all know what’s in the mug.
“Daddy,” I call him again, and he steps away from my mother. “Please. Don’t leave.” I start to beg as he drags the bag over his wide shoulder. A panic to keep him here has me running towards him, and I hug his torso with every ounce of strength I possess.
“Jack O’Reagan said nasty things to me; I need you to tell his dad. I need you to make him apologize.” Tears stream down my face, and I have no idea if it’s because of what just happened with Jack or the fact my dad wants to leave us.
“Jack O’Reagan, the rich kid, who thinks he’s better than everyone else; keep away from them.” My mother’s order dries up my tears, and my father slowly untangles my hands from his waist.
“I have to go.”
“Please don’t leave me.”
“Jesus, Jane, comfort her.” My father’s voice quivers as he launches himself into the hall with his favorite red cap pulled on his head. I know he would never leave that behind. He was actually leaving us. He was really leaving me.