Where We Belong

by Fox Brison

  “Mum isn’t sleeping because of me?” I asked, incredulous at his guilt tripping. Shaking my head, I flipped the switch on the kettle. Shit. I forgot it died a death this morning so I placed a pan of water on the stove to begin heating for my coffee. Bubbles began to rise quickly, and I hoped it might drown out my dad’s voice, but sadly it rose over the simmering water.

  “Yes. Can’t you think of someone other than yourself for a change?”

  What did he say? “Wait a God damned minute.” Just then I heard Elisha cleaning her boots on the scraper at the door. “I have to go, someone’s here.” I hung up without waiting for his goodbye. I didn’t want to listen to any more of his condemnatory words.

  I loathed he was hurting, that he didn’t understand (or even want to try to understand) why I had to do this, that he believed I thought more about a person so long gone there was nothing but a marble headstone to talk to. If only he could see the thing hurting him the most wasn’t me, it was Mr Johnny Walker.

  I sat down and glowered at my cheese sandwich like it was the cause of all my ills. I was struggling to eat even one bite. It stuck in my throat and tasted like cardboard. “I’ve had it up to here with uncooperative men!” I muttered to the sandwich, daring it to argue back. And as for Dominic and the lads, well they could go hang for all I cared. If this build failed it would be on my head, and if I had to work morning noon and night to make certain it succeeded I would. I wanted to, not for my reputation, well partly for my reputation and pride too, but mostly it was for Elisha.

  I knew how much this meant to her and I wouldn’t let her down.

  Elisha came through from the kitchen and joined me at the table. She was usually garrulous but today, after making a couple of aborted attempts at conversation, she quit speaking altogether. There was obviously something on her chest, and it was starting to piss me off that she wouldn’t get it off with me. Hmm. That didn’t sound right. Or did it?

  “So what’s up?” I asked finally.

  “PJ’s just been on the phone,” she said as if this would explain everything. The thing is it did.

  “Ah. Right.” I pushed the plate away and took a sip of my coffee. The bitter taste mirrored my humour perfectly.

  “I was wondering if there’s another way round this?” She was unable to meet my eye and I wondered why.

  “I’m all ears. Will you at least look at me, Elisha?” I said sharply.

  She met my eyes and I noticed a flush on her face that I assumed was embarrassment. It wasn’t. “Jesus, Brianna, forcing people to work the weekend is going to put their backs up. The lads won’t stand for being treated unfairly and you’ll lose a lot more than time if you have to replace the entire workforce. I don’t want to tell you your job-”

  “And yet you are. How about this, Elisha,” I stood from the table and rested my hands on the edge. It was either that or throttle her. “I’ll go and pack my bags and you can take over managing both the build and your precious PJ!”

  That worked. She scrambled up and hurried to appease me. “Brianna wait-” she pleaded.

  “Those people are employed to do a job. I want them to work a few weekends, for you! I want this build to be a success for you! Christ, ever since we started this job I’ve been pussy footing around them and I’m sick of it. They all need to grow a pair and stop bitching! And for your information, I’m not forcing anyone to do anything.” I stormed out of the kitchen and tried to slam the door shut but the warped timber caught on the floor and ground to a halt, which didn’t give my anger the release it required.

  The back door was far more obliging (and definitely more satisfying) as was the shuddering window panes and loud bang echoing amongst the hills.

  I didn’t know where I was going; I simply knew I had to get as far away from Elisha as I could.

  Instead of heading up the road I hopped over the low drystone wall which dominated the landscape of these parts and made my way across the fields. Checking for sheep as I went, I walked purposefully towards destination unknown.

  “Bloody father,” I muttered. “Doesn’t he realise this could have been avoided? No of course not, he’s too enamoured with his bottle. And as for that fucker PJ! Shit stirring little freak.” This time I kicked at a clump of reeds. Twice. “Elisha taking his side! Next she’ll be pimping me out to Dom to make up for upsetting him and his precious lads! Boo hoo, the mean lady’s making us work weekends and giving us extra money to do so! Aaargghh!” I screamed to the sky.

  No one was spared as I ranted my way through long wet grass which soaked into my jeans. My footsteps left prints where I flattened it down more than it already was, and it took me ten minutes or so to realise there was a path worn down over time about ten metres to the left, but by then I didn’t care.

  Besides being cold and wet fuelled my ire!

  I came across a small stand of trees, a slight incline making the going difficult as I inched through the forest. Slipping on the muddy undergrowth, I grabbed hold of a trunk to halt my descent and catch my breath.

  Which was quickly stolen again when I set eyes upon the lough a few steps away.

  Warily, I released my death hold on the conifer sapling, and climbing cautiously over an assortment of scattered rocks, I stepped into the open. It was stunning and still, eerily so. Finding a large smooth stone by the water’s edge, I sat down and allowed Mother Nature to lift my spirits. Slowly but surely the dissatisfaction imbuing every facet of my life began to dissipate.

  I don’t know how long I was there for, but the sun broke through the gloom and I was bathed in sepia sunlight. I sniffed. It was about the only thing going right in the current low weather system circling Gloshtrasna, where a dark cloud hovered above me pouring rain and troubles down onto my head like I was a cartoon character. Cartoon? Black comedy more like.

  “Hey,” a gentle voice interrupted my reverie.

  “Hey,” I mirrored her tone. I didn’t want to disturb the tranquillity by raising my voice.

  “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have interfered,” Elisha moved out of the shadows and a golden glow highlighted her skin. She matched the surroundings for beauty and surpassed it for strength and character, a tribal warrior from ancient times. I chuckled inwardly. This lough exposed the poet in me. Or was Elisha responsible?

  I shifted a couple of inches sideways and patted the rock next to me. “I’m sorry too. I had a rotten day and shouldn’t have rared up the way I did.”

  “Want to talk about it?” She picked at a piece of moss that was growing on the front of the rock.

  “There’s not much to talk about,” my voice wobbled. “I feel like I’m letting you down. I’m responsible for the site and the build.”

  “You couldn’t predict the weather.”

  “I could have had a better contingency plan in place though. I should have anticipated at least some of the problems we’ve encountered. Christ it doesn’t take a genius to figure out being so remote might affect access,” I mockingly berated my own shortcomings.

  “Shoulda, coulda, woulda. I’d sing it but I don’t want to distress the wildlife. The fish would commit hara kiri, jumping out of the water and onto the shore, and the birds will dive into the water to escape.” She chuckled. “Brianna, listen, you could never let me down. I see how hard you’re working. I’d be lost without you. I’ll call Shannon and say we can’t make it.”

  “You’ll do no such thing!” I protested vehemently. “We’ll be back up to speed by then. Hopefully.”

  “Mutiny on the campsite?” she asked with a roguish wink.

  “It sounds like a movie,” I laughed. “But yes. Plus, if I cry off Sam will have my guts for garters!”

  She wrapped her arm around my shoulder and I sheltered in her embrace. “We’ll get there, Bri, together.” Her platinum hair, fresh from nature’s hairdresser, owned a messy look that made my fingers itch to do some walking and then some serious talking…

  The comfort she gave made me feel.

  And the
numbness which had permeated my whole sense of self since finding Maggie’s letter was almost gone.

  Hopefully, visiting her grave might rid me of it completely.

  Chapter 23

  Brianna

  When the alarm stridently sounded at six am on Saturday morning, I wanted to hide under the covers and ignore it. However, the truly awful singing coming from the kitchen was more difficult to switch off, so I reluctantly dragged myself out of bed. Elisha wasn’t being modest about her talent as a chanteuse. Mind I didn’t want to commit hara kiri.

  Murder maybe.

  Two coffees later I still resembled one of the walking dead. I was the antipode of Elisha, who was full of beans. She was fresh out of the shower and her damp hair clung to the nape of her neck. It was almost time for another visit to the barbers, our Elisha loved a close shave, which the way the build was going was exactly what she was going to get. I couldn’t be arsed with a shower this morning; no doubt I’d be getting nature’s own down at the site. I couldn’t even be bothered to brush my hair I was so pissed off with Dom and his crew. I couldn’t understand their reluctance. I’d worked more Saturdays than had eaten hot dinners, it was part and parcel of the building trade.

  Lady Grouchopolous was in residence because I was bracing myself for the worst. When the team finished up yesterday afternoon not one waved goodbye, not one uttered (or even hinted the words) ‘I’ll see you tomorrow, boss.’

  “Come on.” Elisha chivvied me along.

  “Yeah, yeah Lil Ms Sunshine,” I groaned.

  “It’ll be okay.” She gave my shoulder a nudge. “Didn’t you say you liked the Spice Girls? Sure isn’t this a perfect illustration of girl power?” In spite of my lack of confidence I found myself smiling. Elisha’s cheerfulness was infectious.

  However, it seems pessimism trumped optimism, because when we arrived on site there wasn’t another living soul to be seen. The old adage if you want something done etc. was going to be my motto for the next few weekends. As I contemplated what lay ahead another expression popped into my head.

  What doesn’t kill ya…

  Mentally I began a list. I checked the tool shed and practically fell to my knees and kissed the ground when I saw that Dom had left his jackhammer, even if I did resemble a demented kangaroo when using it. I jumped three feet when Elisha tapped my shoulder. “Look,” she pointed to the access road.

  “Oh thank fuck,” I exclaimed. My relief was tangible, which caused great amusement.

  “Sure, we can’t disappoint the children, they’ve had enough shite to deal with,” PJ grumbled, but this was good naturedly, a rare beast from the obstinate arse.

  ***

  The build was slowly but surely getting back to where it needed to be. Dominic and his lads often started early and stayed until the light faded, and I was shocked by how much we’d achieved in such a short space of time. However, just before the May bank holiday we hit another snag. The next delivery of timber that should have arrived on Thursday evening was delayed at source and wasn’t going to be on site until late Friday; thus, we would lose another day. I’d already promised the crew the whole weekend off, and had learnt the hard way how minor hurdles could easily turn into the Great Wall of China if not dealt with immediately, so what was a girl to do?

  Well I came up with a compromise.

  I suggested instead of taking the Monday as a holiday we take the Friday, which fitted in perfectly with mine and Elisha’s trip to Dublin, because Sam wasn’t arriving until Friday evening, and she travelled home on Sunday afternoon. Still, I wasn’t certain how well the idea would be received given what had happened previously.

  I need not have worried because except for a few guys attending weddings, everyone else agreed with my proposal.

  Dom even volunteered to oversee the delivery on his day off. All this meant that when I returned from Dublin, everything would be in place to begin framing.

  Yee bloody haw!

  Elisha and I left Sligo before the birds had even cleared their throats for a morning sing-a-long, because, according to her, the ring road encircling Dublin could be an utter nightmare. I snickered derisively. Four cars in a row constituted a traffic jam in Ireland so I wasn’t overly concerned. Being a regular commuter on the M25, Dublin’s M50 didn’t faze me in the slightest, until, that is, we had been stuck between junction six and seven for forty-five minutes.

  “Can you turn off at junction eight I’m desperate for the loo,” I begged and crossed my legs as we started to move for the first time in what felt like a month.

  “There isn’t a junction eight,” she replied matter of factly, and gave a tired yawn.

  “What?” I yelped. “You’re kidding me, right?”

  “Feckin’ eejit!” Elisha cursed and slammed on the breaks as another car cut across us, desperate to get into our lane which was moving, marginally, faster. “No, no joke. They planned one but it never materialised, and the powers that be were too lazy to change the numerical order,” she explained insouciantly, like this was a completely run of the mill event. To be fair it kinda was over here.

  “And you have to pay to drive on this road?” I stared at the cars slowly finding spots to idle away the pre-dawn hours in what was basically a car park. “Or sit on it I should say. I cannot believe this,” I added exasperatedly.

  “That’s Ireland for ya,” she said casually.

  “Elisha, I really, really, need to go to the toilet.” I appreciated I sounded like a whinging eight year old, but to compound matters in the bladder emergency state of affairs, the noise the rain (which had just started) made on the roof intensified my discomfort. Tenfold.

  “Junction Nine isn’t far, and we’re starting to move much quicker. Just think of the Sahara Desert,” she suggested helpfully, and began lane hopping to procure me the relief I desperately needed. I gritted my teeth and tried not to snap. Although I valued her efforts, it merely made a dire situation worse. Tapping my feet and crossing my legs wasn’t helping any more, and thinking of sun drenched sand was about as much help as a lighter on a motorbike.

  Fifteen minutes later I was running to the toilet at an Apple Green service station.

  When I returned to the car Elisha handed me a paper cup. “Coffee, no sugar.”

  I was impressed. “You always get it right.”

  She shrugged like it was no biggie, even though to me it was. “Tea takes one, coffee is none.”

  Oh my God! She made up a rhyme to remember how I like my beverages! “Leo still couldn’t get it right after three years together. If he took as much notice of me as you do, I may have said yes!” I joked and looked adoringly at the coffee in my hand. I was still half asleep because the clock wasn’t even touching six am yet, but I didn’t know if I dared drink it in case I needed the toilet again. “Fuck it,” I said and took a large slurp. It was worth the risk; I craved a caffeine hit badly.

  “Someone needed that?” Elisha grinned

  “And I wonder why?” I snarked. “Could it be because someone’s pet chicken woke me at one this morning?”

  “I can’t help it, Red’s taken quite a shine to you,” she said softly and took a sip of her own drink. “Ready?”

  “As I’ll ever be,” I moaned. I couldn’t blame Red entirely for my insomnia because as I’d stared at dark shadows decorating the bedroom in indecipherable patterns, it had hit home how Maggie O’Shea carried me for nine months, and in giving me life hers was gone, snuffed out like a candle before she had a chance to live.

  Neither of us had spoken for a while when Elisha asked, “How ya doing?” Her soft brogue resonated in the still of the car. We had left the M50 but the congestion was twice as bad in the city. We moved forward an inch at a time, the traffic lights in Dublin seemingly allergic to the colour green.

  “I don’t know?” I phrased it as a question because my emotions were all over the place. “I feel like I should be more upset, I’m going to see my mother’s grave for crying out loud.” I couldn’t see E
lisha’s expression but knew her eyes would be full of compassion. I bet she made an incredible social worker because although she didn’t always have the right answer, she cared enough to want to find the right answer.

  “Don’t overthink this, Bri, just let your emotions come naturally. If you do that, they will be the right ones because they’re yours, no one else’s.” She gave my thigh a quick squeeze. “And remember whatever happens I’ll be right there with you the whole time.”

  The lights changed and we moved a whole car length forward. Elisha concentrated, whilst I quietly contemplated what she had said before responding, “When I began this search, all I was interested in finding was the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.” Outside a sea of umbrellas indicated it was as wet on the east coast as it was on the west. “Now it’s not the gold or even the rainbow, it’s the journey I’m taking searching for the pot that matters. Since coming to Ireland I’ve learned more about myself than I have Maggie O’Shea, and you know what? Even if I never get the answers I’m looking for it’s been totally worthwhile because…” I paused not for effect but because I wanted Elisha to know how much she had come to mean to me. “Because I met you.”

  I recognised my words weren’t nearly enough, but they were the only ones I was brave enough to give her at the moment.

  ***

  “You made it.” Shannon took Elisha in her arms. “I was getting worried you’d never set foot outside Sligo’s county line again,” she teased before turning her attention to me. “Brianna, sure I already feel like I know you, this one,” she pointed at Elisha, “never stops talking about ya. It’s Brianna this and Brianna that. I was expecting a halo and wings!”

  Elisha went bright red and hastened to explain. “You know about the build and how it’s going.” She gave her cousin a sideways glance and knitted her brow.

  “Yeah, that’s what I meant." Shannon raised her eyebrows incredulously. “What else?”