I go through each day like a zombie, trying to ignore the symbolicFor Salesigns that sit now in each of our gardens on Teapot Row. Their presence irritates, frightens and excites me all at the same time, but most of all they make me feel so sad as I prepare to close up another chapter and start again.
‘With every new beginning, there has to be an end,’Mabel used to tell me so often.‘It’s never too late to start all over again if you feel it’s for the best.’
And Mabel was right of course. There are no rules, and nothing lasts for ever. So I go to work and I function on autopilot, and I do my best to ignore the pull and tug at my heart every time I think of Aidan, how he used to make me feel when he held me, the laughs and fun we had together, and the hopes and dreams we’d planned ahead. The pain hits me worst on Sundays when I remember our mornings on the beach and I sometimes find the longing for him so hard I can barely breathe.
On this particular Sunday, as the autumn wind howls down the chimney and the rain pelts onto the window, Ben and I are sitting here in the living room when I receive a message that makes my heart skip a beat.
‘Fancy a walk on the beach?’ it reads and I do a double take when I see that it’s from Aidan. ‘Meet me there in an hour in our usual spot? Please?’
My jaw drops and I look around me, searching for answersas if they’ll jump out from somewhere and hit me in the face, waking me up and letting me know this isn’t some cruel trick of fantasy.
It’s Aidan.
‘Hang on! Are you in Ireland?’ I text him back quickly, baffled to my very core as pins and needles of anticipation run through my veins.
‘Quick visit,’ he tells me. ‘Please meet me there if you can.’
Stunned yet excited, confused yet exhilarated, I ask Ben to get ready, but he insists he is OK to hang out and watch some TV while I go to see Aidan.
‘Did you know he was here?’ I ask him, confused now as to how I could have been so oblivious to all this.
‘Yes, I saw him this morning when you were still sleeping,’ he tells me as my eyes widen. ‘He got here really early so we had tea in Mabel’s kitchen and he asked me not to tell you he was here. He said he would surprise you later.’
I’m in a daze as I clamber around the house, almost falling over myself as I quickly try to find suitable footwear for a rainy day on the beach, a raincoat that will keep me warm, and a waterproof hat to fight off the elements. I give Ben strict instructions not to touch the cooker or anything electrical while I’m away, listing off rules that I can say without thinking for times like this when I’ve to pop out briefly without him.
‘I’m not a baby, Mum,’ he tells me. ‘And I do have a phone now, so just go and talk to Aidan. Maybe you’ll be happy again when you do.’
I instantly forget my hurry and rush to my son’s side, crouch down beside him where he sits on the armchair and I shake my head emphatically.
‘Ben, it’s not as simple as that, honey,’ I explain to him. ‘It’s not just being away from Aidan that’s making me unhappy, and being with him today briefly isn’t going to make me happy. I’ve a lot of things I need to take stock of right now. Please don’t think that seeing him is going to be like a magic wand that will make everything better again. I can’t promise you that, I’m sorry.’
‘You’re alwayssorrythese days,’ he says, sulking slightly, and he lifts the TV remote and stares at the screen, which gives me a clear cue to go.
I drive towards the coast as the windscreen wipers sweep from left to right, remembering how I’ve dreamed of this moment so many times during my darkest hours as I lay awake in bed, tossing and turning and gripping the tear-sodden sheets as I yearned for Aidan to make this all better.
I only thought my heart had been broken before, but as I replay that night in New York as I lay in the hotel room, wondering why he couldn’t be with me more than he was, and then picture him clinking glasses, kissing cheeks, holding hands and laughing and touching a woman who I’d been told was part of his history, I was physically sick many times.Actuallysick, not just feeling sick – the type of sick that comes with shock and with no warning whena simple thought could trigger my stomach to heave and retch as I imagined him talking to me one minute and then laughing with her the next.
Never did I believe that rejection and betrayal could hurt so badly, not only on an emotional level but also on a physical one, to the extent that I don’t even look or feel like myself any more. I’ve lost almost a stone in weight, so my cheeks are pale and gaunt, my usually thick, glossy dark hair is outgrown and unkempt, and my clothes don’t hug me like they used to.
I don’t want Aidan to see me like this; a broken mess in comparison to the strong, vibrant woman he first met when I tackled him under the falling snow last year in November, but I need to meet him face on, no matter how much I’m dreading it.
I need to tell him just how much he has hurt me and why, no matter how much he pleads or tries to brush it all off today or any day going forward, I cannot ever trust him or anyone else again. And then I hear Mabel, trying to steer me out of my own cloud of negativity and the web of lies I’d accepted from Jude.
‘Don’t push away love when it comes your way, Roisin,’ I hear her tell me once more. ‘Don’t let the ghost of Jude and his past ways ruin your future.’
I only wish I had the strength to believe her. I only wish I had the strength to believe in Aidan.
I park up the pick-up when I get to Dunfanaghy and walk down the lane that leads to Killyhoey Strand under a grey sky that completely reflects my mood. I can’t deny how much the thought of seeing Aidan again in the flesh is going to tear me apart, and my insides fizz with dread and anticipation.
Then I stop when my feet meet the sand. The wind is in my face, and I shiver under the breeze, and when I look into the distance I see him standing there, looking out onto the dark, angry sea on this blustery autumn day.
He spots me instantly, as if he’s been watching for me since he got here, and when his dark figure walks towards me as I go to meet him, I pray for the strength not to fall into his arms like I really want to. I ache for his touch and for his kind words, for his encouragement and his humour and understanding. I plead for everything to be the way it was, but just as the wind and rain batters my face, so does the reality of truth as it eats me up inside and spits out the true facts that he was living a lie in America while I waited for him here.
‘Roisin!’ he calls to me as he walks more quickly towards me now, wearing the same grey jacket he wore on our sledging day almost a year ago. ‘I was afraid you wouldn’t show up. My God, it’s so, so good to see you.’
He reaches out to touch my face and, although I want to step back or brush his hand away, I just stand there in the rain and let him, with my eyes closed as hot tears fall onto his cold hand.
‘Why are you back here, Aidan?’ I ask him, still wondering if this is all just a cruel dream. ‘Why are you doing this to me? This is so hard and it’s not helping to see you in person again. I’ve told you I can’t do this any more. It’s not fair.’
