He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not

by Iris Morland

  “Well, duh. Everyone knows that,” said Kate.

  “What Liam said to you was uncalled for. You have every right to be angry with him.”

  Dani took my hands away from my face so I had to look her in the eye.

  “I was the same with Jacob. He hurt me badly. I thought it was over, even though my feelings hadn’t changed one bit. But when he realized he’d lost me, he gave up something important to show me how much I mattered to him.”

  “What’s your point?” I said, wary.

  “Just that for love, sacrifices are necessary. And it’s the one thing worth sacrificing for. That’s all.”

  “What Dani is saying,” said Kate as she tossed an olive from Dani’s plate into her mouth, “is that some major groveling needs to happen pronto.”

  “I don’t think groveling is going to convince Liam that he’s actually in love with me,” I said in a small voice.

  “Won’t know until you try.” Kate grinned. “So how about you get out there and show us how it’s done, big sister?”

  The following day, I went to my parents’ house. I didn’t know if my mom would offer any answers, but I needed to ask anyway.

  I needed to understand why she’d left, because I’d realized, after dinner with my sisters, that I’d held in that pain for so long that it had made me believe there was something wrong with me.

  “Mari, sweetheart! This is a nice surprise.” My mom hugged me, smelling of lemon and patchouli. “Your dad is at the store. Something about a hydrangea crisis. I didn’t ask. I told him that he’s retired, but he gets bored around the house. He never was a golfer, you know.”

  My mom always seemed so happy, so normal. What had pushed her to leave her daughters and husband all those years ago?

  “Mom,” I said quietly, “I need to tell you something. About Liam and I, and…other things.”

  The one thing good about my mom was that she was good at listening until you finished speaking. She didn’t interrupt as my story poured from me. I told her about Vegas, about Niamh, about falling in love with Liam. About how it had ended, which I hadn’t been comfortable explaining two weeks ago.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you and Dad sooner. I just—didn’t know how. It was such a ridiculous situation. You guys were already skeptical about our marriage. Telling you that it wasn’t real?” I shuddered. “Dad would’ve had a stroke.”

  “Well, I have to admit, I didn’t expect you to do something like that,” said my mom. “Kate? Yes. Dani? Maybe, only because she was too oblivious to realize what she’d gotten herself into. But you were always so responsible. Look at David: he was the most responsible choice. Until he went off the deep end.”

  “There’s another reason why I wanted to talk to you.” I took a deep breath, my palms sweaty. “I know about you leaving us. When I was eight.”

  My mom’s smile died on her face. I felt guilty bringing it up, but it had lain dormant for too long.

  “I never left you guys,” she said quietly. “Not really.”

  “That’s what Dad said. He didn’t know if you were coming back, though.” I swallowed against the lump in my throat. “I used to lay awake at night, terrified I’d never see you again.”

  “Oh, sweetheart.” My mom took my hand and squeezed it. “There was no doubt in my mind I’d return. Your dad should’ve made that clear. I thought all this time you thought it was a business trip. That’s why I’ve never mentioned it. To protect you and your sisters.”

  “Why did you leave then?”

  My mom sighed, gazing off into the distance.

  “You have to understand—I wasn’t myself back then. Kate was a surprise pregnancy, and she wasn’t an easy birth. Then afterwards, I was hit really hard with postpartum. But I didn’t know that was what it was. I had three girls to take care of, plus the store. Your dad did his best, but when your brain is sick, there’s nothing anyone can do to cure that, you know?”

  I stared at her, stunned. I’d had no idea. “Did Dad know?”

  “Yes and no. He knew, but he didn’t want to believe I was that depressed. It didn’t help that I didn’t talk about it. It was a big mess, sweetheart. And when I left, it was because I was afraid of myself.” My mom looked stricken. “I knew I had to get help before I could come back. I left for all of you.”

  “Where did you go?”

  “I checked into a psych ward,” she said bluntly. “Two weeks isn’t long enough to cure depression like that, but it stabilized me. Enough that I could come back home and do outpatient treatment.”

  At this point, we were both crying.

  “I thought I’d done something wrong. And I was so afraid to ask,” I said.

  “Mari, no. I love you. You were a little girl. It wasn’t anyone’s fault.” My mom pulled me into a hug. “I should’ve told you sooner. If I’d known you thought that…”

  I cried on her shoulder, letting the tears that I’d needed to shed flow. Tears for me as a little girl; tears for my marriage that seemed destined to never recover. Tears for loving a man who thought I was too cold, too afraid to love.

  “I was afraid there was something wrong with me. You, then David, then Liam,” I whispered.

  “The only thing wrong with you is you thinking that. And if Liam is as smart as I think he is, he’ll realize what he’s lost. Just like you have, if I’m correct. If you two love each other, you’ll find a way back to each other.”

  My mom smiled, her eyes wet. “Just invite me to the wedding next time, will you?”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Liam

  When the prints of the photos I’d taken of Mari arrived, I didn’t look at them for days.

  I’d ordered them before that fight in the park. After our disagreement that night, though, I shouldn’t have tweaked fate’s nose. But I’d been hopeful. And fucking stupid.

  I grabbed a glass of whiskey and, sitting on the couch that somehow still smelled like my wife, I opened the package.

  I thumbed through the photos: one of Mari smiling, looking away from me. One of Mari with her eyes closed, a pink nipple just peeking out from below the bedsheet. Mari smiling at me, every emotion under the sun shining from her face.

  But I’d told her that I loved her and she hadn’t told me the same. And then I’d said those words I wished I could take back. And now our marriage was over, and all that work I’d put in to keep Niamh’s inheritance intact? Down the drain, as soon as old man Gallagher caught wind of things.

  Lucky for me, though, that Mari had yet to file for divorce. I didn’t know what she was waiting for. Maybe she just wanted me to stew as I waited for the ax to fall.

  I slammed back the rest of the whiskey and went for a refill.

  That was how Niamh found me. Half-drunk, morose, and feeling sorry for myself.

  “Oh my God, when is the last time you cleaned?” Niamh wrinkled her nose when she saw the array of empty bottles and dirty dishes on the coffee table. “This is the saddest thing I’ve ever seen.”

  I barely reacted to her entrance. “What are you doing here? Don’t tell me you’ve run away again.”

  “Of course not.” Niamh sat down on the couch, only to scowl when she found dirty socks under the throw pillow. “Aunt Siobhan needed to come to Seattle this weekend. So here I am.” Niamh peered at me. “Where’s Mari?”

  “She left.”

  “Like, she went out for the night?”

  I sighed heavily. “No, Niamh. She left me. We’re over.”

  “Oh.” Niamh folded her hands in her lap. “Why are you guys over? I liked her.”

  “Because I’m bloody moron, that’s why. I told her I loved her and wanted to make our marriage a real one—”

  “Wait, wait, wait. Marriage? You two were married? Since when?”

  “Since I went to Vegas and married her when we were both rat-arsed.”

  Niamh gaped at me, and it would’ve been funny if I’d been in a laughing mood.

  “You guys were married when I
was here? But you said she was your girlfriend! Not your wife. Why wouldn’t you have told me that?”

  I heard the hurt in her voice, and guilt filled me. I’d fucked everything up with the people I’d loved, hadn’t I? I’d hurt Mari; I’d hurt Niamh. And now that my marriage was over, Niamh wouldn’t get her inheritance.

  “It was complicated,” I said. I grimaced when I realized I’d finished my tumbler of whiskey already. “It wasn’t worth explaining to you.”

  “How about you try to explain it to me now. Speak slowly, though. I might not understand if you don’t.”

  “You’re a pain in the arse, you know that?”

  “Spill your guts already. I’m waiting.”

  I wasn’t about to spill my guts to my little sister without more liquor in me. After refilling my glass, I returned to the couch, almost amused that Niamh was the one acting like the mature, older sibling now. Clearly the universe was upside down at the moment.

  I told her the entire story—the wedding, the deal, her inheritance, old man Gallagher. How I’d fallen for my wife and how she’d rejected me without so much as a tear shed. How I’d said those cruel words to her and regretted saying them so much I ached with it.

  Unlike Mari, Niamh wasn’t one not to interject her opinions throughout your story. But by the time I got to the end, she was out of words. She just gaped at me, her mouth wide open.

  “You’re going to collect flies in your mouth if you don’t close it,” I said wryly. I tapped her under her chin. “Nothing to say now?”

  Then, to my utter horror, she burst into tears. Noisy, sobbing tears. I’d never heard my sister cry like that—at least not since she was a small girl.

  “Fucking hell,” I muttered, “what’s the matter? What did I say?”

  “You idiot! You giant, dumbass, moronic doofus! You have shit for brains! I could punch you in the face right now!”

  “Good lord, it can’t be that bad.”

  Niamh wiped her eyes, but the tears kept flowing.

  “You did all of this…for me. How could you? I never, ever would’ve made you agree to that.”

  Even with the whiskey in my belly, I was able to put two and two together.

  “I’d do anything for you. And you deserve to go to the best university you can. I wasn’t about to put that in jeopardy because of some stupid, drunken mistake.”

  “Can’t you see, though? If Grandda decided to cut me off because of what you did, that would be on him, not you.” Niamh sniffled. “I wouldn’t have blamed you. Grandda is totally cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs. Everybody and their dog knows that.”

  Having your teenage sister talk such obvious sense wasn’t exactly great for a guy’s ego. I rubbed the back of my neck, wondering if the heat in my cheeks was from the booze or from embarrassment.

  “I thought I was doing the right thing,” I said finally.

  Niamh sighed heavily, then punched me in the bicep. I winced.

  “You should’ve just told me, dumbass.”

  “Like I said: I thought I was doing the right thing.”

  We fell into silence, the only sounds from the traffic outside my flat. The sun had long since set, and a sliver of a crescent moon showed in the sky. I wondered if Mari was looking up at the moon right now. Which was so fucking sentimental I wanted to drink until I passed out.

  I was about to get another refill when Niamh launched herself into my arms, hugging me so hard the air went out of my lungs for a moment.

  “I love you,” she said into my neck. “But you don’t have to be my knight in shining armor anymore. I’m a big girl now.”

  I snorted, hugging her back. “You’re my little sister. It’s my job. When Mam died, I promised her I’d look after you. And I hope I’ve kept that promise.”

  Niamh drew back and smiled. Suddenly shy, she said, “I actually came because I have good news. I got into Harvard. Early decision acceptance. I got the phone call a few days ago, but since I knew I’d be in town this weekend, I wanted to tell you in person.”

  “And you didn’t think to tell me that the second you came in?”

  “You seemed distracted.”

  I hugged her hard, so proud that I was bursting at the seams.

  “If the old man decides not to give you your inheritance because of me,” I said solemnly, “I’ll do whatever I can to make sure you go to Harvard. I swear it.”

  “Student loans are a thing, in case you didn’t know.”

  “You’re not going into debt that’ll follow you the rest of your life. And especially at an Ivy League.” I leaned back against the couch cushions. “Why couldn’t you have gone to school in the UK or Ireland again? Where you don’t have to pay out the arse for a college education?”

  “Because I didn’t want to.”

  I snorted. “Of course that’d be your answer.”

  “I wanted to celebrate my acceptance with you and Mari.” Niamh fiddled with her hair. “She was nice.”

  I didn’t say anything, because what could I say to that?

  “So you’re just going to let her go? Even though you love her?” said Niamh.

  “It’s better this way. I’m not meant for marriage. Romance. All of that. It’s bullshite.”

  Niamh squinted at me. “So wait—are you saying you don’t love me?”

  “You’re my sister. It’s different.”

  “Okaaaaay. That makes no sense, but whatever. Why do you think you’re not meant for marriage? And don’t you love Mari? So I’m confused.”

  I groaned. I didn’t need my little sister playing armchair shrink tonight. It didn’t help that I was as confused as she was.

  “Because in case you you’ve already forgotten, I fucked all this up. And Mari doesn’t want me. It’s better to let things end than force the issue. Besides, Da showed me that the men in this family aren’t loyal. Who’s to say I won’t do to Mari what he did to Mam?”

  “Wow, here I thought you couldn’t get any dumber, but you’ve proven me wrong.” Niamh widened her eyes comically. “Mari clearly loves you. I saw it when I was here. She had goo-goo eyes and everything. It was disgusting. I could barely eat around you two.”

  “That was lust, not love.”

  “Ew, gross. I do not need to know about your sex life.” Niamh gagged. “And believe me, I’m around girls giving guys goo-goo eyes all the time. Mari had it bad. And why would she agree to some stupid deal with you if she didn’t kinda sorta care?”

  Hope bloomed inside me, but I quashed it ruthlessly. “No, you’re wrong.”

  “Excuse you, I am always right.”

  “You’re seventeen. That’s not possible.”

  “Okay, fine. But I’m just saying: don’t let Mari go just because our own parents were messed up. Da left because he made that choice. You’ll make your own choice. Duh, Liam.”

  I reached over and gave my sister a noogie, which she protested so loudly I was sure the neighbors would call the cops.

  “Liam, leave me alone!”

  “I had to make things normal again. Now I’m the older brother who’s so wise and you’re the silly little sister.”

  “You didn’t have to mess up my hair for that!”

  Niamh glared at me, which made me laugh for the first time in ages.

  My thoughts drifted, and I didn’t realize Niamh had picked up the photos of Mari I’d left on the coffee table before it was too late.

  Her mouth formed a little O of surprise.

  “Oh my,” she breathed. Her cheeks turned red. “Oh, wow. Um, I shouldn’t be looking at these.” She tossed them away like they were on fire. “But, um, if you think Mari isn’t in love with you—you’re wrong. Totally wrong. Even I, a dumb teenager, can see that.”

  I picked up the photos, my heart lurching inside my chest. I stared down at the photo of Mari kissing the back of my hand, and I knew I couldn’t let her go. Not without a fight.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Mari

  The following Monday, I went into
work, entered Leslie’s office after a single knock, and handed her my letter of resignation.

  Too bad she didn’t even look up when I entered. She was just typing away on her computer. She waved a hand at me.

  “Sit down. I’ll be with you in a second.”

  I sat down. Five minutes passed in silence, Leslie ignoring me entirely. Two more minutes passed.

  Finally, I stood up and set the letter on her keyboard, forcing her to recognize my existence.

  “What is this?”

  “I’m quitting,” I said.

  Leslie picked up the letter, dangling it from her fingers like I’d handed her a dead bird.

  “Excuse me?”

  “I’m quitting.”

  Sighing, Leslie set the letter down, not even bothering to open it. She steepled her fingers and gestured for me to sit down.

  I didn’t sit again.

  After the conversations with my sisters and my mom, I’d realized that Liam had been right: I’d been playing it safe my entire life. I’d thought I could avoid a broken heart that way. I thought if I just did what was wise, secure, normal, I’d never have to be afraid that a person I loved would leave me.

  But I couldn’t live my life in the shadows anymore.

  So, first things first: quit my shitty job and pursue my dream of becoming a makeup artist. Finally becoming the person I’d always wanted to be.

  “I’ve decided to enroll in cosmetology school,” I said.

  “Cosmetology school? At your age?” Leslie looked at me like I’d told her I wanted to become a ballet dancer at sixty-five. “Are you sure about that?”

  “Totally sure.”

  “You realize you’ll have to work for yourself. You’ll have terrible benefits, if any. Much lower pay than what you get here.” She leaned toward me, her expression serious. “What can I do to make you stay?”

  Six months ago, Leslie could’ve convinced me that I should stay. A twenty-cent raise and I would’ve returned to my desk like the good little employee I was.

  “Thank you, but I’ve made up my mind.”