Faking It (McCullough Mountain)

by Michaels, Lydia

  Sure, Alec saw parts of her everyone else seemed to miss. But he would never see all of her if she had anything to say about it. He’d never know how utterly messed up she was inside. He’d expect her to be something better and she’d exhaust herself trying. Then when she couldn’t try anymore, he’d get frustrated and leave her. Some masochist buried deep in her soul told her it would be best to ruin what they had now, before the rug was pulled out from beneath her, before she began counting on his love. But she wasn’t ready for their time to end.

  She simply had to be aloof. If she could avoid talking about his proclamation for the next three days, she could avoid confronting her feelings. When they got back to school she’d put some space between them. He’d eventually lose interest, because she wasn’t that interesting to begin with, and then he’d move on. Better to face the pain now than to draw it out and make it hurt more in the long run.

  “I’ll follow you back,” she said.

  He gently caught her arm. “Are we okay, Shei? I do love you. I’m sorry for being a jerk.”

  Tristan. Her mind simply repeated the name, those seven letters meaning so much. What had happened to them? She used to worship this man and now she looked at him with pity. Her opinions were evolving, but nothing seemed to be correcting her state of mind. Maybe they were all broken beyond fixing.

  She nodded. “We’re okay.”

  The drive back to the pub was lost in one of those weird moments where one almost forgets one is breathing. Her mind was working overtime, yet she had no idea what she’d thought along the journey. Not a single deliberation seemed to resolve anything or clearly announce itself.

  When she pulled in beside Tristan, she took a moment to clear her mind and paste on her usual careless façade. She’d have to apologize to everyone for stealing Mallory’s car and taking off. She’d also have to apologize to Alec, but she didn’t want to think about that. She just hoped her brothers hadn’t done anything too terrible to him.

  Tristan opened her door and she climbed out. They walked to the pub and when he pulled open the door they were greeted by the loud, familiar voices of her family. Her eyes quickly sought Alec. When she found him she increased her strides. “This isn’t good.”

  Tristan chuckled behind her and she approached the table, folding her arms over her chest and scowling at her brothers. They slowly realized she’d returned, each one stifling their laughter and doing a shit job of hiding their grins.

  “Hey, Sheilagh,” Kelly greeted cheekily. “We missed you.”

  She looked at Alec who hugged an empty bottle and sighed at her, a content grin on his face. “Isn’t she lovely?”

  Her brothers groaned and shoved him, not aggressively, but as if they were life-long friends.

  “We might have gotten your professor a wee bit drunk, Devil,” Finn slurred as he slouched into Mallory’s shoulder.

  “How much did you give him?”

  “Just one,” Colin announced innocently, his eyes mere slits, his mouth a plastered smirk.

  Luke snorted and leaned forward, hiding his laughter.

  Sammy, who seemed to be the only sober one, giggled. “He means one bottle.”

  “You gave him an entire bottle of Tully?”

  “Well, we had some too,” Finn announced.

  “I didn’t,” Mallory amended, ceaselessly reminding them that she found their taste in booze contemptible.

  “We had a chat while you were gone, sweetheart,” Alec said, his fluid accent suddenly sounding cockney.

  “And?”

  “We’ve come to agree on three inalienable truths.”

  She raised a brow, waiting for him to go on.

  “One!” He announced, rising from his chair, none too gracefully. “Whiskey is the fruit of the devil.” He rounded the table, balancing a great deal of his weight on her brothers’ shoulders. “Two!” He held up a second finger, squinted at his hand as if to make sure he was counting right. “You have an incredible family.” He staggered in front of her. “And three! I bloody love you and you are going to have to deal with it now that your brothers have accepted me.”

  Everyone at the table banged their glasses in accordance. “Here! Here!”

  She rolled her eyes and looked back at Alec who gave her a lopsided grin. “Oh you poor bugger. You don’t know what you’re saying.”

  He leaned in and sniffed her hair. His mouth pressed close to her ear and he whispered, “Doubt thou that the stars are fire. Doubt that the sun doth move. Doubt truth to be a liar. But never doubt I love.”

  She turned and frowned at him. “Hamlet? Really?”

  He grinned without showing teeth, his eyes slits of happiness. “You smell good.”

  “Oh, for Christ’s sake!” She tossed Mallory’s keys on the table. “Sorry I stole your car.” She reached in Alec’s pocket and fished out the keys to the BMW. He laughed and she shook her head. “I’m taking you home.”

  He tipped back the bottle he held, realizing it was empty, then proceeded to face the others and speak into the bottle as if it were a microphone. “The hour of departure has arrived, my friends. ‘And we go our ways—I to die and you to live. Which is better God only knows.’”

  “Goodnight, you guys.”

  They laughed and begged them to stay, but she couldn’t let Alec go on like this. No one, not even a McCullough, survived an entire bottle of Tully unscathed.

  She shuffled him out of the bar and maneuvered him into the car.

  “You recognize when I quote Hamlet but not Socrates,” he slurred in an almost cockney lilt.

  “That was a line from Plato’s Apology.”

  He smiled, as though truly pleased with her awareness. “You are correct. I am forever impressed by your knowledge, sweet Sheilagh.”

  She shut his door and rounded the car. After sliding in behind the wheel, she fiddled with the seat and mirrors. The car started and she hesitated. Alec watched her, a look of serenity relaxing his face.

  He was plastered and she knew better than to have a serious conversation with someone in that condition. Yet she also needed to unburden herself. It was for the wrong reasons and it was totally selfish, but she said the words anyway.

  “Tristan kissed me.”

  He hadn’t been talking, but the car was submerged in utter silence. She couldn’t look at him. She gripped the wheel and pressed her foot into the brake as she put the car in drive. Briefly, before pulling away, she glanced at him.

  He’d definitely heard her. His smile was gone and his expression was blank. But there, in his telling eyes, was the betrayal and hurt her actions had caused.

  Chapter Nine

  Alec awoke in the clothes he’d worn out the night before. Sheilagh’s pink blankets twisted around his hips and he turned—causing a sharp stab of pain in his head—and found her curled up on the far end of the bed.

  He couldn’t recall what exactly had happened last night. He knew that he said he loved her. Recalled her leaving right after he made the announcement, abandoning him with her insane relatives who’d wanted to gut him and mount him on the wall. But that wasn’t what happened.

  After she left, they seemed to take pity on him, claiming that loving Sheilagh would be as painful as spooning a porcupine. It wasn’t that Sheilagh was unlovable. They all adored her. The issue was that Sheilagh never let herself get close enough to anyone in order to be loved. It was as if she thought herself unworthy of such high emotion.

  They’d handed him a bottle and patted him on the back and the rest was a blur. He still tasted whiskey on his tongue. He’d be happy if he never tasted that again. How had he gotten home?

  Memories of Sheilagh returning for him vaguely teased his mind. He supposed she drove him home. Then he remembered.

  He couldn’t recall exactly what was said, but he specifically remembered feeling euphoric one moment and forsaken the next. That bastard had kissed her. And she let him! The ache from the night before returned, no longer anesthetized by booze. She kisse
d someone else. Not just someone else. Tristan.

  It took a moment for the truth to settle in. It covered him like cold snow and something bitter opened up inside of him. He knew she’d made mistakes in the past, but this was now. Never had he expected her to be disloyal. The man had called her a slut and she’d gone right ahead and kissed him rather than defending herself.

  Ignoring the pain in his head, he forced himself out of the bed. She still slept soundly, curled into a tiny ball at the edge of the bed. She looked so innocent, yet she’d cut him deep.

  Confused, he left the room with his bag and went to shower. When he returned she still slept. He wasn’t sure what to do, so he organized his belongings and eventually she awoke.

  “Are you packing?”

  “It would seem,” he said, not looking at her.

  “Are you leaving?”

  “I’m not quite sure what to do, Sheilagh. It would appear I have two choices, go home and leave you to find a ride back to school. Or tough out the next three days knowing we will never be the same.”

  She lowered her head and he wanted to withdraw his nasty comment, but his self-preservation refused. He did however mumble, “I find myself leaning towards the latter in fear that if I don’t drag you back to Princeton you’ll never return.”

  “And that would be bad because I have potential or because you want to see me again?”

  “I know you’ve been thinking about dropping out.”

  Her shoulders slowly lifted as she took a deep breath. “I can be ready in an hour. We can leave then. That way you don’t need to spend any more time than necessary with me and you can be certain I’m back where everyone wants me.”

  His chest tightened, knowing she was tearing herself down behind the walls she didn’t let others pass. “What do you want, Sheilagh?” he asked quietly.

  “I want to know what it is—for just one day—not to dislike myself.”

  He shut his eyes. “Why did you kiss him?”

  “He kissed me, but I won’t lie. I let him.”

  Alec nodded. Her honesty helped, but it didn’t curb the effect of her words. “I’ll be waiting downstairs.” He zipped his bag and left to take it to the car.

  Sheilagh felt terrible. Her mother and father didn’t understand why her trip home that started late was suddenly being cut short. She made some excuses about forgetting a project that was due and said her goodbyes.

  Alec had thanked them for allowing him to stay and gone to wait in the car. She was almost to the passenger door when the door to the barn suddenly flew open and Luke was barreling toward her. She faced him, knowing it was time to pay the piper.

  He shoved her and she gasped, never expecting such aggression from him. The blow knocked her bag out of her hand and her eyes flooded with tears of shock. This was bad. “What the fuck, Sheilagh?”

  Alec’s door opened and he stood, frowning at Luke, but this time didn’t come to her defense. She swallowed and looked at her brother. “I’m sorry. I’m a terrible person. I know.”

  Luke’s nostrils flared. If she were his brother he’d have knocked her out by now. It was obviously taking every bit of self-control he had left not to hit her.

  “When is enough ever enough with you?” he snapped. “I’m sick and tired of feeling guilty over some bullshit childhood crush you have. He’s mine. Do you fucking get that? Mine. We’ve been committed as much as society allows for five years and never has shit like this happened before. I’m your fucking brother!”

  Her chest shook as she held in her tears. “I’m sorry.”

  He shook his head, his eyes narrowing. “Are you? Are you ever really sorry? When are you going to start thinking about someone other than yourself?”

  “That’s enough,” Alec quietly said.

  The front door opened and her father stepped out. “Luke? What’s going on?”

  Her brother glanced over his shoulder at their father and returned his glare to her, hissing so only she could hear, “I’m done with you.”

  It was as though someone punched her in the stomach. He marched back to the barn and slammed the door. Pasting on a shaky smile so her father wouldn’t see she was breaking on the inside, she waved at him, picked up her bag, and climbed into the car.

  A moment later Alec climbed in beside her, his expression tense as he backed out of her driveway. He didn’t say one word to her the entire drive back to Princeton.

  “It was an awesome week,” Wes went on. “The lakes were too cold for swimming, but we had bonfires and drank and laughed. It was a well overdue holiday.”

  “I’m glad you had a nice break,” Alec said numbly, trying to find any form of pleasure in his son’s obvious delight.

  “I guess it was pretty boring here with everyone gone. What did you do all week?”

  “I stayed inside most of the time, had some papers to grade.”

  “You should have done something with your time off. You look tired, Dad.”

  That’s because he hadn’t been sleeping. “I’m fine. Just having a difficult time shaking off the idleness of break.”

  His son frowned, but seemed to accept his excuse. “Promise when summer starts, you’ll take some time off, maybe go home for a while.”

  “Perhaps.”

  They finished their takeout and Wes stretched, patting his belly. “I’ll tell you, I feel so refreshed. Even the bitch next door hasn’t been bugging me.”

  “Don’t call her that!” Alec hissed then stilled as he tossed his leftovers in the trash. Trying not to give himself away, he asked, “She hasn’t been making noise or you’ve learned to be a bit more tolerant?”

  “Haven’t heard a peep. The one day I even saw her in the hall and she might have smiled at me, I doubt it though. She sort of just mopes around. Maybe she’s on drugs.”

  “I highly doubt that.” His lungs worked as he fought to breathe normally. She was moping. It had been eight days. He’d looked for her at the Student Union, the library, and around campus, but he hadn’t caught sight of her since he’d dropped her off last Friday.

  It was beyond difficult to let her leave, but they each needed time to process. When he’d said goodbye, he hadn’t looked at her, merely confessed he needed some time and asked her to call if she needed anything. She was obviously past a point of reaching out and he felt terrible for not handling things better.

  Wes made no further mention of her and Alec thought of little else. He wondered if she’d talked to her brothers, wondered if Luke had forgiven her. Alec didn’t need to forgive her. He already had. She was young and youth was the greatest cause of unconscious choices. However, he missed her.

  He was concerned about her. Sheilagh had some pretty big battles going on in her head. He’d read up on depression since he’d returned home and he was certain she suffered from something called Dysthymia.

  Dysthymia was a chronic condition that wasn’t easily identified. It was less severe than other forms of depression, but longer lasting. One characteristic of the depression was withdrawing from stress and avoiding opportunities in order to completely avoid failure, opportunities like college perhaps.

  In almost every journal article he found, there was mention of difficulty diagnosing the condition because people who suffered from such an ongoing state of mind were apt at hiding the symptoms in social settings. Sheilagh was always hiding. He’d even teased her about wearing Gyges’ invisibility ring.

  The further he read the more he grew concerned. What her brother had said to her was not kind. Sheilagh had a knack for beating herself up over things she couldn’t control. The articles also said that when someone with Dysthymia suffered a major depressive episode on top of their already excited state of mind, they often accepted these worsening symptoms as part of their natural personality and avoided seeking help.

  Alec was torn. He didn’t whole-heartedly agree with the prescription craze happening in America. Yes, some people found hope and survival through medication, but others did not. It wasn’t
a blanket solution. He wasn’t sure if Sheilagh had ever spoken to professional. He doubted she had, being she was severely closed off about anything she saw as a personal shortcoming.

  When Wes left to go meet up with his friends, Alec went to bed. Sleep, again, was evasive. The following morning he chanced a trip to the psychology building in hopes of finding one of his peers. He was relieved to find Reginald Parikh in his office.

  “Alec, what brings you here on a Saturday?”

  “I wanted to pick your brain,” he said, taking the seat across from Reggie.

  The man tossed whatever he’d been reading on his desk and leaned back. “Pick away. I welcome the distraction from these term papers. Absolute shit. I wonder if anyone listens to me at all when I teach.”

  “Are you familiar with dysthymic depression?”

  “Yes. Long lasting depression, hard to diagnose.”

  Alec nodded. “How would one know for sure if someone suffered from it?”

  “Well, there are theories on various pathophysiological indicators, such as CT scans and the like, but none of that is universally agreed upon. I’d say, aside from the individual speaking to a professional, you could only look for obvious indicators.”

  “I’ve looked online, but I’m interested on your take.”

  “Well, the first clue, although not always the easiest to detect, is the length in time the person is coping. I’d say that sort of depression takes hold and doesn’t let up for a minimum of two years, but it can span a lifetime.”

  She’d done nothing for six years. “Go on.”

  “Well, in that two year block, I’d say there are the typical symptoms, fluctuating appetite and sleep patterns, fatigue, low self-esteem, difficulty making decisions, or an ongoing sense of pessimism. Such symptoms are never absent for more than two months at a time. There doesn’t have to be a major depressive episode for this to happen. Sometimes the onset is drug related or the result of other forms of mental illness, but not always. A person with dysthymic depression might have difficulty in usual social, professional, or academic settings.”