The Dazzling Truth

by Helen Cullen

* * *

  As the dawn began to break, Murtagh and his children sat side by side on the sand, each alone with their own thoughts but united with new understanding. Every so often they heard voices drawing closer from the pub; a few stragglers had been enticed by the flames, but when they saw who was sitting on the shore, and realized what was burning, they slunk back into the night and left the Moones in peace.

  All except one solitary figure who sat on the harbor wall and hoped his love would emanate from him to wrap around the body so beloved that sat before him in the distance.

  Fionn watched over the Moone family while they watched the currach burn.

  He waited until they began their slow walk home, until they dissolved into shadows, before he turned away, his eyes stinging, his heart that had always been lost to them afraid of what must come next.

  Inis Óg: December 21, 2014

  THE SMELL OF fresh loaves baking woke Nollaig first; familiar but almost forgotten.

  She staggered down the stairs in the fluffy peach dressing gown that she wore like a second skin; squinting into the light. Her father sat at the kitchen table with his back to her as he dried cutlery with a red-and-white-checked tea towel. When he turned, she screamed—his bushy gray beard was gone, exposing fresh pink cheeks. He looked ten years younger; he looked like a stranger.

  “Daddy!” she shouted. “What happened? I can’t believe it.”

  He shyly patted his face with both hands and smiled at his daughter’s shock.

  “Oh, it was time for a change,” he chuckled. “I barely recognize myself in the mirror. Ajay started crying when he saw me this morning.”

  Nollaig came closer and leaned toward him. “I don’t blame him. You could’ve warned us!”

  He returned to the cutlery, gathering it together and carrying it to the open drawer under the sink. “I didn’t know myself until this morning.”

  Nollaig looked around the gleaming kitchen. “I’m sorry you had to do all the tidying up. Did you get any sleep at all?”

  “No.” He smiled at her. “But I feel fine. I didn’t want to face more chaos this morning. And Mossy helped me. He’s gone to the shop with Kalindi and the twins.”

  She glanced at the clock over the stove. “It’s only half-past eight—what time were they all up?”

  “Maya appeared first, about seven,” he said. “Not everyone stayed up until dawn, you know.”

  Nollaig shuddered. “I feel like I should still be in bed.” She held up her phone and took a picture of her father as he poured himself some orange juice.

  He shook the carton at her. “What are you at, Noll?”

  “I’m sending it to the others. They won’t believe this!”

  Murtagh sighed. “They’ll believe it time enough. Go get dressed. Everyone will be here soon. And don’t go plastering me all across the internet either.”

  The front door slammed shut and Sive appeared with Luka in tow; their hair still wet, chattering with the cold.

  “We went for a swim,” she said. “Big mistake.”

  Luka looked as if he might be about to enter cardiac arrest, his lips blue and trembling.

  Murtagh rushed to the closet and grabbed armfuls of towels. “What were you thinking, Si?” he said. “And no wet suits?”

  She took a warm towel from him and wrapped it around her hair before looking at her father properly for the first time. “Oh my God,” she said. “Your face! It’s so weird. I don’t think I’ve ever seen it before.”

  “Never mind that,” he said. “Here, stand in front of the stove. I’ll put the kettle on.”

  “Looking good, Murtagh,” Luka mumbled at him as he dried his face in a towel. “Very smooth.”

  “Well, thank you, er, Luka,” he said, catching Nollaig’s eye as she smirked.

  Nollaig’s phone beeped and she burst out laughing. “That’s Dillon,” she said. “He says you look like a toddler, Dad. He’s on his way. Just walking Molly home, he said. Molly? Where did she come from?”

  Sive grabbed the phone to read his message. “So, that’s who he was calling last night. Well now, that escalated fast.”

  The back door swung open and the twins ran in, dressed in matching yellow tracksuits and red Wellington boots. Mossy followed, his arms full with two damp brown-paper bags that looked about to disintegrate. Kalindi stood on the doorstep, shaking the raindrops from an umbrella. “We passed Dillon on the way,” she said. “He’ll be along in a minute. Said to start without him. He was in high spirits, I must say.”

  Sive smirked at her and began plunging the coffee percolator, breathing in deep lungfuls of its heady aroma and sighing with contentment.

  The front doorbell chimed, and Murtagh dropped a saucepan into the sink with a clatter.

  “Why is he ringing the doorbell?” Mossy asked, idling down the hallway, his mouth already full of croissant, straight from the bag.

  Nollaig heated oil in the pan to start frying sausages and bacon while Sive whined at having to endure the smell of flesh cooking. They heard Mossy’s voice booming from the front door, his laughter, but couldn’t discern what he was saying. He bounced back into the kitchen, beaming at them as he called out. “It’s Fionn!” he said. “Fionn is here! And I don’t have my uke, damn it.”

  Sive hung back while Nollaig came forward to hug him, tightening her dressing gown and taking her fingers through her sticky hair. “Dad said you were here, but I wasn’t expecting you this morning,” she said. “It’s so great to see you—I can’t believe it.”

  Fionn looked overwhelmed as his eyes flew about the room; so much looked the same, but who were all these adults where once children had been? He touched Murtagh on the arm, and held his hand for a second before reaching out to Sive.

  She placed her coffee cup on the kitchen counter and kissed him on the cheek. “I’ve heard so much about you,” she said, “but I have to say I don’t think I remember you properly. More like I’ve just inherited memories from the others. Mam and Dad often spoke about you, kept all your letters.”

  Before he could answer, Luka stepped forward and held out his hand. “I’m her boyfriend,” he said in a rush, “Luka. I make documentaries about—”

  Mossy jumped in. “And this is my wife, Kalindi, and our twins Maya and Ajay.” The children stood shyly on either side of their father, hiding their faces, while Kalindi kissed Fionn on both cheeks.

  Fionn smiled at them. “It’s so strange. In my mind’s eye, that’s closer to what I expect you and Dillon to be like.” Mossy laughed as Dillon appeared from the hallway, still in last night’s clothes, dark circles under his eyes.

  “I saw you last night,” he said, punching Fionn gently on the shoulder. “What the hell brings you back to this godforsaken place?”

  Murtagh handed him a pile of plates. “Here, son, set the table while I start dishing out.”

  Dillon laid the plates while they all bumped into each other, passing cups and glasses, plates of ham, pastries, orange juice, apple juice, the teapot and coffeepot, a bowl with boiled eggs, two small baskets of strawberries and a saucepan of boiling hot porridge. Finally they were all sitting, all eating, and for a moment all quiet.

  Murtagh cleared his throat and Nollaig looked up, a slice of toast with strawberry jam halfway to her mouth. “Oh no,” she said. “This is it. He’s going to tell us his news.”

  The clatter of breakfast stilled; only the noise of Ajay making fire-engine-siren noises broke through their silence. Kalindi popped a strawberry in his mouth to keep it busy for a moment.

  Murtagh stood up, then sat back down, wiping the corners of his mouth with a yellow paper napkin. “The thing is,” he said. “What I’ve been meaning to tell you...”

  He stopped to take a deep slug of his orange juice.

  Sive’s leg bounced up and down under the table, making the cloth shake, until Nollaig grabbe
d it and held her still.

  Dillon stared into his plate and met no one’s eye.

  Mossy moved his arm closer to Kalindi’s, and she took his hand.

  Murtagh stood again, looked around the table and sat back down.

  Nollaig groaned. “Dad, you’re killing us,” she said. “Just spit it out. It can’t be that bad.”

  “It’s not bad at all,” Fionn burst out. “It’s a good thing.”

  Dillon looked at him. “What do you know about it? He’s not going off with you to save the whales or something, is he?” He started laughing, but it trailed away as he saw Fionn reach out and squeeze his father’s hand.

  “That’s quite close actually, son,” his father said, then continued in a rush. “You see, the thing is, I’ve met someone—or rather, I’ve remet someone.”

  Nollaig pushed her plate away from her, her eyes already flooding.

  “What are you talking about?” she said. “How could you meet someone without me knowing? Who is she? And what’s that got to do with Fionn?”

  For a moment no one spoke, and then Luka piped up, “Doesn’t he mean Fionn? Is that not who he remet? Or am I missing something here?”

  Nollaig snorted. “Don’t be daft, Luka. Are you joking?”

  Sive watched her father and Fionn steal a glance then burst out laughing.

  “Oh my God, he’s right,” she said. “Daddy, what’s going on? How did this happen? Am I having some kind of psychotic break here?”

  Fionn’s eyes passed over each Moone in turn while Murtagh struggled to begin. Eventually he spoke himself. “Well, your mother wrote to me, before...”

  Dillon stood up, knocking his chair over. “I’m not sitting here and listening to this,” he shouted. “Have you all lost your minds?” He stormed over to his father and grabbed fistfuls of his jumper. “Was this going on the whole time?” he spat in his face. “Is that why Mam did it? Because she knew about you and him?”

  Fionn stood up and tried to pull Dillon away, but Dillon shoved him. “Don’t touch me, you creep. All the time you were hanging around here, were you two getting it on behind my mam’s back?” He squared up to Fionn, but Fionn held his ground.

  “Nothing happened back then,” he said. “Not. One. Thing. What Maeve did had nothing to do with this.”

  Dillon pushed him hard, and he lost his footing for a moment. “How would you know anything about her?” he shouted. “Don’t you say her name, don’t you ever say her name,” he snarled, pushing him again.

  Mossy stood up, placed himself between his brother and Fionn. “Sit down, bro,” he said. “That’s enough.”

  Maya started crying and Kalindi took both children by the hand and hurried them out of the room, closing the kitchen door behind her and throwing Mossy a look of apology.

  Murtagh sat at the table with his eyes closed, head in hands, his face ashen.

  Patti Smith broke through the heavy silence from the radio on the windowsill, but Sive turned it off as Dillon pushed past his brother and flung the back door open. “I’m not sticking around to hear any more of this.” The half door slammed behind him, and they heard him stamping away down the gravel path.

  “I’m sorry,” Murtagh whispered. “I’m sorry. I know this is a terrible shock.”

  Fionn filled a glass of water from the tap and gulped it down.

  Nollaig’s head was buried in her dressing gown, but her muffled sobbing was clear.

  Sive whispered something to Luka and he, too, retreated through the back door, a towel still draped around his shoulders.

  “Daddy,” she said, moving along the bench to sit beside him. “Can you help us understand a bit? What does this mean about Mam? Did she know? About you, I mean? When did all this happen?”

  Murtagh took a deep breath. “You have to understand,” he began, “what your mother and I had was all real. We loved each other so much, and this has nothing to do with that.”

  Sive interrupted him. “So, you’re bi? Is that what you’re saying?”

  Murtagh frowned. “I don’t think I’m anything. All I know is I’ve loved two people this way in my whole life—your mother, and Fionn. That’s it.”

  Nollaig poked her head out from her dressing gown, wiping her nose on her sleeve. “But when did you realize about Fionn? Mam was still here then.”

  Fionn sat back down at the table. “Nothing happened when I was on the island,” he said, “but I think we all knew deep down that your father and I had a connection that was more than just friendship—or that could be more. Your mother saw it. I think she understood long before your father or I did. I’d only just come out that summer and never expected to meet the love of my life there. Or that he would already be happily married. And to a woman.”

  Murtagh let out a sad little laugh. “It only hit me after your mother died. When my heart cracked open with grief I was surprised what I found there, this truth I’d been oblivious to.”

  Fionn continued. “A few days before she died,” he said, “she wrote to me, told me what was going to happen, asked me to come find your father.”

  Nollaig snapped, “She wrote to you? You make it sound like she gave you her blessing.”

  Fionn looked at her. “I know it’s hard.” He hesitated. “But that’s exactly what it felt like.”

  Sive leaned across the table and nudged Mossy’s shoulder. “You’re suspiciously quiet over there.”

  Mossy sat back, sighed. “It just doesn’t shock me. I mean, it does, but it doesn’t. I feel like I always sort of knew.”

  Nollaig stood up. “How could you know?” she shrieked. “I’ve been living with him all this time and I didn’t know!”

  Mossy held his hands up. “I think I saw something once, when we were little. I didn’t understand it, but the memory stayed with me. We went swimming and when we came out of the water, Fionn, you dried Dad’s back with your towel.”

  Murtagh gasped. “I don’t even remember that,” he said.

  Fionn looked at him. “I do.”

  Sive leaned back in her chair and put her feet up against the table “So, what happens now?” she asked, watching her father’s hands tremble.

  “Well,” he said. “I want to move to the city, with Fionn.” He paused. “Maybe sell the house.”

  Nollaig was pacing up and down the kitchen, the soles of her fluffy slippers slapping against the tiles.

  “So what about me?” she shouted. “Am I to be homeless?”

  Murtagh walked over to her, put his hands on her shoulders. “Of course not, love,” he said. “This home will be yours for as long as you want it.”

  She allowed him to pull her in for a hug; her nose tickled at the smell of his shaving foam.

  “But there’s nothing here for me without you,” she mumbled into his shoulder.

  “Maybe your life’s waiting out there,” he said. “Perhaps this is the new start we both need.”

  She pushed him away. “No, I’m sorry,” she said. “Don’t pretend this is good news for me. It’s too much.” She shuddered. “I need to lie down.”

  Nollaig slunk out of the room, and they listened to her slow, labored ascent up the stairs. Mossy went to find Kalindi. “Thank you,” Fionn said to Sive, as she turned the radio back on. “For trying to understand.”

  She started clearing the breakfast things away. “I don’t think it’s hit me, to be honest,” she said. “I feel like we’ve suddenly met our father for the first time, so where’s our old dad gone? How do we reconcile the two men, our old and our new dad? This will take everyone a long time to get our hands around.”

  Murtagh took the dirty plates from her hands. “I’ll always be your old dad, love,” he said. “I’m figuring all of this out, too, but I’m still the same me. I haven’t been pretending all these years.”

  She gave him a squeeze. “I believe yo
u,” she said. “Like Mam always said, love is a big tent.”

  Tears filled her father’s eyes. “Yes,” he said, “but I’m not sure I ever knew how big.”

  Phuket

  February 13, 2015

  Dear Daddy,

  Greetings from Phuket. I’m sitting under the shade of a proper palm tree, drinking water straight from coconuts—can you believe it? Trust me, I am making GREAT use of my inheritance.

  It is so hot here that my hair stands three feet off my head in all directions but, unbelievably, my skin is finally turning from pink to brown—I’m not sure you’d recognize me!

  It was strange at first, traveling alone, but I’ve been following the itinerary Fionn suggested and he’s right—the hostels have been a great way to meet other lone travelers. Sometimes we spend a few days together if we’re heading in the same direction and then we go our separate ways. Meeting people without expectations has made it easier for me to make friends, and guess what? I’m fun here! I even did karaoke last night!!

  I’ve been thinking a lot about how I behaved over Christmas and in the weeks before I left, and I’m mortified. Some of the things I said were unforgivable and, even though you pretended not to be hurt, I know you were. I’m so sorry, Daddy. I was so shocked at how fast things were changing, scared of what would happen to me. But I should have been happy for you. I hope you know it wasn’t because it was Fionn—I think I would’ve behaved equally as badly if it had been a new woman. The shock factor of Fionn just seemed to give me a license to behave like a brat in a way a thirty-year-old woman should be ashamed of.

  I’ve decided that it’s okay for you to sell the house, so you can move your studio to Dublin. It was wrong of me to stand in your way, especially when I’ll be living in Galway myself from September when I go back to college. For what it’s worth, I think I’ll be a better midwife now than I would have been when I first began; those chips on my shoulder would’ve weighed me down on the wards. I’m so happy that I’ll finally be able to use the nurse’s fob watch Mam gave me; I’ve always felt guilty about that. Can I ask you one thing, though? Can we have one last Christmas on the island before we go? And then we can put it up for sale in January and start the new year fresh. I’d appreciate that, if we could.