NICK: O’Connor Brothers #3

by Kelly, A. S.

  “This time, no one will be waiting for you to come back.”

  And I know that she’s right.

  61

  Casey

  When I turn up at his front door, it’s three in the morning. I tossed and turned in bed, incapable of closing my eyes, terrified that the images of us in my mind could disappear along with him.

  Martin opens the door, bleary-eyed, rubbing his face.

  “Casey?” His eyes widen when he finally makes out my form in his doorway. “What the hell’s going on?”

  I throw myself into his arms, not brave enough to even utter a single word; as soon as my head hits his chest, I let myself be washed away in a tide of tears that I’d been holding back for so long. Martin slowly lowers himself onto the floor, keeping me clutched to him, stroking my hair and murmuring comforting words into my ear. They’re words that I can’t quite make out, because my mind is still swirling with his words, telling me that nothing has changed, that I’d believed him. That he doesn’t want me.

  We stay like that, on Martin’s hallway floor – me, wrapped up in his arms, and him, trying to calm me down – until the last tear drops from my eye, my heart in ruins that no one could ever rebuild.

  * * *

  Martin lays me down on the sofa. He makes me a cup of tea, which I politely accept, but have no intention of drinking. He looks at me, his eyes full of pity, waiting for me to speak; but words are pointless. What good would it do to explain what happened? To repeat his words?

  Nick has left again.

  Nick has left me behind.

  Nick doesn’t love me. He never did.

  Martin strokes my face; it’s a comforting, gentle gesture, that provokes another wave of juddering tears.

  “Jesus, Casey.” Martin kneels down next to me. “Please, say something. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to help you.”

  “He’s gone,” I manage through sobs. “He left again.”

  “Why? What happened?”

  I shake my head. “He took everything – everything there was to take – and he took it away with him. Nick doesn’t love me, but I…” I lift myself up and throw myself into his arms again. He strokes my hair and kisses the top of my head.

  “You love him, just like you always have.”

  I bury my face into his neck.

  “Oh honey. I’m so sorry.”

  “He played with me, with my life. It was all just a game to him.”

  “I don’t know. I don’t know what to think.”

  “There’s nothing to think. Nothing to do, nothing to say. There’s just nothing, Martin. He took away everything.”

  “Don’t say that. I don’t know when, but I promise you that this’ll pass. You’ll go back to laughing and living your life, and…”

  I lift my gaze to meet his. “And loving?”

  He smiles sadly.

  “It’s impossible to love anyone after loving Nick O’Connor. You don’t love him for a month, or a year, or even eight years. You love him: end of. You don’t forget about him, you don’t move on. He leaves you behind, and you can’t do anything but wait for him.”

  Martin pulls himself onto the sofa, letting me sag lifelessly into his arms.

  “I don’t know if that’s necessarily true. I’ve believed I was in love so many times that it just passes me by. I can’t even recognise it now.”

  “If love had passed you by, Martin, if it brushed past you or even glanced at you…” I sigh, painfully, “…then I promise you’d recognise it. And you’d never be able to remember what your life was like before.”

  “You’re probably right. And I know that it seems impossible now for you to imagine a day when all this will just be a memory – one of those memories that buries itself in the deepest corner of your mind – but that’s what will happen. You’ll create new dreams, new happiness: a new life. It’ll happen, Casey, I promise.”

  I don’t believe any of his words. I could never believe them.

  I’ll never be able to replace Nick with anything else, with any other life.

  I’ll never replace it – and maybe I won’t even try to hide it. Maybe it’ll stay there, on the surface, basking in the sunlight, reminding me of the best part of me. Reminding me of joy, of happiness.

  Reminding me that, in life, you only really love once. And when you’ve given your heart to someone, there’s no way of getting it back.

  62

  Nick

  Mum opens the door, and I ask her about Dad right away.

  “He’s outside in the garden, trimming the rose bush.”

  “I need to talk to him.”

  She looks at me suspiciously. “What have you done?”

  “The same thing I always do.”

  “Nick…”

  “Mum, please don’t. I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Honey, why…?”

  “You know why.”

  “That’s not a good enough reason to just throw everything away.”

  “You don’t get it. She…”

  “She loves you.”

  I shake my head, trying to push Mum’s words out of my mind.

  “And you love her.”

  “That’s not enough, Mum.”

  “Please, Nick. Think about this…”

  “I just want to talk to Dad for a few minutes.”

  My mum nods, dropping the subject. “Sure. Go on.”

  I go out of the back door and head towards my dad, who doesn’t turn to see who’s approaching him.

  “Look,” he says, pointing towards the rose bush. “After all these years, they’re still here.”

  I nod, even though he can’t see me.

  “Do you know when I planted these?”

  “No, I can’t remember.”

  “Neither can I,” he says, smiling. “But I know it was a long time ago. And sometimes they need to be trimmed. They need my care, my love.”

  “Dad…”

  “Everyone needs someone to take care of them.”

  “You have your whole family.”

  “What about you, Nick?” He turns to face me. “Who’s taking care of you?”

  “I don’t need anyone to take care of me.”

  He looks at me, condescendingly.

  “I’m a big boy. And I’m fine, see? I don’t need anyone.”

  “Oh, Nick.” Dad shakes his head. “You’ve always been so stubborn.”

  “You know what I’m like.”

  “Me? Of course I know. We all do. But do you really know who you are?”

  I lower my gaze.

  “Does she know?”

  “She knows too well,” I say, fiddling with some of the leaves on the bush.

  “Do you know the truth? You’re the only person who doesn’t know yourself. And now you’re going to run off, just like you always do. Wandering around without a purpose, taking your time… But in the end, you’ll always come back to where you started.”

  “I’m not just ‘taking my time’. It’s work. You know that.”

  “No one knows how important time is more than me. I wasted a lot of time in the past, too. Now I’d love to have that time back, but I can’t. But I can do one thing: I can live whatever I have left to the fullest. Because I know that, soon, I won’t be able to remember any of it.”

  He places a hand on my shoulder and smiles.

  “If you have to leave, then go. Don’t think about me, about us. But please, Nick: don’t forget to think about yourself. Don’t forget who you are, and never forget the way home.”

  I take a deep breath. The pain is pressing down on me now.

  “I’ll see you in a few weeks, okay?” I say, before turning and heading inside to say goodbye to my mum.

  “You’ll come back, right?” she asks, worry weaving through her voice.

  “Of course, Mum.”

  “Have you said goodbye to your brothers?”

  “Tell them I say bye, okay?”

  “They’re not going to be happ
y.”

  I smile sadly. “Then they’ll be right about one thing.”

  I give my mum a quick kiss and leave the house, sliding into the car and heading back towards my apartment. I’m certain that this is the right decision; the decision that will cause the least damage to everyone.

  Yet when I get to the airport, ready to board my flight, I can’t help but glance over my shoulder, hoping that someone will be there, begging me to stay.

  63

  Casey

  When I get home from work, I find Martin’s car parked in our driveway. I step into Dad’s front door to find him sitting on the sofa, a cup of coffee in one hand. Dad, on the other hand, is on his feet in front of him, leaning against the wall.

  “How come you’re here?” I ask, concerned, putting my bag down on the floor.

  I didn’t see Martin in the hospital today – it was his day off – and I really hope he hasn’t come here to blurt out the whole Nick saga to my dad. I don’t want Dad to know; I’m not ready for all his ‘I told you so’s. Not that I’m trying to hide anything from him – I know that, sooner or later, he’ll start to realise that I’ve been spending a lot of time at home – but I still need another few days before I can talk about it without bursting into tears.

  “Come here, Casey, sit next to me.” I don’t like the tone of Martin’s voice at all.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Have you been round to the O’Connors’ recently?”

  “They cancelled the last two appointments,” I say, uncertain.

  I don’t know why they cancelled them. Maybe they didn’t want me around, or they found another physio. I tried to ask, but Chris was really vague, and she just told me that they’ll let me know as soon as I can start again.

  “James isn’t doing so well.”

  I only realise I’m crying once I feel the tears drip onto my neck.

  “He’s refusing all his appointments, he won’t leave his room. He isn’t eating…”

  “Why didn’t they tell me? I could’ve done something. I could’ve spoken to him…”

  “He won’t let anyone talk to him.”

  “Why are you only telling me now? You should’ve told me straight away!” I say, unreasonably annoyed with him.

  “I only found out this morning. I went to Chris’ café for breakfast, and she looked worried. She ended up telling me everything.”

  “I don’t understand. He was fine, and…”

  “You know how these things go. And you also know it can get worse, and before long…”

  “What about Nick?” I ask suddenly.

  “We don’t know, hon.”

  “Has…has anyone told him?” I ask, without being able to look at my dad.

  “Ryan’s taking care of it.”

  I nod sadly.

  “I’m so sorry, Casey. I know how much you care about that family.”

  “There must be something I can do. I can’t just sit here, twiddling my thumbs!”

  “I really don’t think there’s anything you can do for Mr O’Connor, Casey. But maybe for someone else…”

  I bite my lip, nervously.

  “I think that someone’s going to need you pretty soon.”

  “He doesn’t want me around, Martin.”

  “Fucking idiot,” I hear my dad mutter through gritted teeth.

  “He doesn’t know what he wants. But maybe you can help him realise.”

  64

  Nick

  I get back to the hotel and storm through reception to grab my key. After a long, busy day, I just want to lock myself in my room and slump onto the bed. I’ve been here for ten days and I’ve already had enough. I have no idea what I was thinking when I accepted this fucking job. True, I didn’t have any other work coming in, but I could’ve avoided getting involved in all this shit again. Maybe I just wanted to get away from everything; not to feel the weight of all my actions, to see it reflected in their eyes.

  Maybe I just hoped that staying away from Dublin… what the fuck am I saying? I was away for eight years, and nothing changed.

  I’m still stuck right where I started.

  “There’s someone here for you, Mr O’Connor,” the woman at reception tells me. “They’re waiting for you at the bar.”

  “Thanks.”

  I grab my key and head towards the bar, poking my head through the doorway and scanning the room, until I see him, sitting there at the counter. I approach him slowly and sit down next to him.

  “What the hell are you doing here?”

  “Believe me, I’ve been asking myself the same thing.”

  “If you’ve come here to bring me home…”

  “I’ve come to kick you up the arse.”

  “You flew ten hours just for that?”

  “I’d have flown a hundred hours just to have the chance to kick your arse.”

  “What do you want, Ryan? I’m tired, I’ve had a shit day.”

  He loosens his grip on his drink and turns to face me. “I hated you for a really long time.”

  “You came all this way just to tell me something I already know?”

  “Not just because of what you did, but because of the way you behaved afterwards. You were always there, winding me up, treating me like an idiot, someone who was no use to anyone. You got on my nerves, drove me up the wall.”

  I listen to him intently.

  “And you did all that even before the whole fuck-up with Lauren. To be honest, you always acted like that.”

  I scoff, exasperated.

  “And then I got it. You weren’t doing it to hurt me; you were doing it to spur me on, to make me react, even though my reaction hurt you. You wanted me to lift my chin and take my life back into my own hands. You did it because you loved me. Because you still do.”

  “This little speech makes no sense.”

  “But it does – because I’m here to return the favour. To show you all the love you showed me, and force you to take your life back into your own hands for the first time.”

  “Ryan…”

  “No. No more excuses.” He lifts his gave to meet mine. “I’m not taking any more bullshit from you, Nick. No more lies. I’ve had enough: and I know that you’re tired of it all, too.”

  “I don’t lie.”

  “You just did.”

  “Did you honestly come here just to tell me all this? To play the ‘big brother’ role and give me a talking-to?”

  Ryan’s face falls, suddenly serious. He reaches his hand across the bar to mine. “No, Nick. That’s not why.”

  I shake my head, confused.

  “You need to come home.”

  “I’ll be home in a few days. Five at most.”

  “You need to come back tonight, with me. I’ve already bought you a ticket.”

  He gets to his feet and leans over to pay the barman.

  “Why the hurry? I don’t get it…”

  “We’re running out of time, Nick,” he says, smiling sadly at me. “And we need you.”

  65

  Nick

  We arrive at Dublin airport in the afternoon. We left overnight, flew for almost twelve hours, and didn’t sleep a wink. Ryan must really hate me: he’s done two long-haul flights, back-to-back; his eyes are elsewhere, framed by dark circles, and he looks like he could break into a fight at any moment.

  We head straight for our parents’ house, where Ian’s been staying the night to keep Mum company. We get out of the taxi and Ryan unlocks the door, trying not to disturb anyone who might be sleeping. From what I can understand, no one has slept much in the past few days.

  When we get inside, Evan appears from the kitchen. “Oh fuck, you’re back!” He flies towards us and throws himself into Ryan’s arms.

  “It’s okay, kid. We’re home,” Ryan says, trying to comfort him.

  “It was a fucking terrible night, Ryan,” Evan says, his eyes leaking with tiredness and his voice with concern. “Your mum didn’t sleep at all. She’s napping on the sofa.�
�

  “How’s Dad?” Ryan asks, his voice contorted.

  “He’s in his room. He didn’t want to come out.”

  Ryan sighs heavily, before following Evan into the kitchen. When we step through the doorway, Ian jumps to his feet.

  “Jesus, Ryan. What the fuck have you done?”

  “Hi to you, too.”

  “You could’ve at least stayed for one day. Did you take two flights back-to-back?”

  Ryan shrugs.

  “You’re an idiot.”

  “Mum came over early this morning,” Evan says. “She’ll be back later.”

  “What about you? Did you stay here all night?” Ryan asks, his tone accusing.

  Ian places a hand on Evan’s shoulder. “We both stayed here.”

  Ryan nods, serious: but I know that, inside, he’s close to tears.

  My dad’s not well. He got suddenly worse. Depression, everyone’s saying. He won’t leave his room, doesn’t want anyone around; he won’t eat, barely sleeps, and speaks even less than usual. The whole family has come together, trying to help him through it. Everyone was here: apart from yours truly, because I was busy. Doing what? Oh, yeah: a photo shoot on a stupid fucking beach. And my brother had to do a twelve-hour flight just to come and tell me this in person, because he knew I wouldn’t answer my phone, that I couldn’t have done that journey alone. That I wouldn’t have had the courage to set foot in this house after abandoning everyone again.

  “You okay, Nick?” Ian asks me.

  “I want to go and see Dad,” I say.

  “Sure.”

  I turn and start to head up the stairs, but Ryan follows me.

  “Nick? Don’t be upset if he doesn’t want to talk to you, or…”

  “Or if he doesn’t remember me?”

  Ryan smiles sadly. I nod and head upstairs, towards my parents’ room. I slowly open the door and stick my head inside.

  The room is blanketed in darkness, but I can just about make out my dad sitting in the armchair next to the bed. I step inside, closing the door behind me, and approach him, sitting down on the mattress. Dad doesn’t turn to look at me; I don’t even know if he’s noticed that I’m there. He just keeps his gaze fixed out of the window to his right.