9
CIARA
I wake from a troubled sleep filled with nightmares. I keep seeing Aaron on the roof ready to let himself go. I know that wasn’t his intention when I found himself there alone, but I can’t help worrying for him. It’s very obvious that something’s wrong with him, I don’t know how the others haven’t seen it.
Then I get out of bed and go to the bathroom before the others get up and the frenzy to get in gets too crazy. I take a quick shower because I’m in the city today for work and I’m already running late. I should have taken a few days off for the wedding to be able to stay here and help but the money is good and I need to take advantage of it.
I work for a company that manages coach tours around Dublin. Three or four times a week I do a five-hour shift talking to people about the beauty of our city, the Celtic culture and our people. I enjoy it so much when I can see that the tourists are interested in what I’m saying, and they look at me open mouths and big dreamy eyes. They ask me questions stemming from our nation’s culture. I like encouraging their curiosity and confess I’ve sewn a few tales that don’t correspond 100 per cent to factual events, but I know they love it. People seem to like me, I’m always happy and fun and think I always have been.
See, I have this personality which is open and positive and about the polar opposite of Patrick, for example. I don’t find it difficult to make new friends or to bond with anyone. I do trust in people and I wouldn’t want to live differently. Disappointments always have been part of life and always will be, we all need to make peace with our actions.
What I’m feeling now after Aaron’s refusal burns, and it hurts me as if he wanted to rip my heart out piece by piece. But I won’t let myself be dragged down. I can’t continue to suffer for something that will never be. Even if last night I had the distinct impression that for once things could have gone differently.
I sigh as I do the finishing touches to my make-up in the mirror. I go back to the bedroom to find the other girls sleeping blissfully. I smile to myself and gather my things and head downstairs. I hope to have enough time to at least grab a coffee. I get to the kitchen and freeze in the doorway.
He’s there.
He’s standing in front of me, facing away while he’s loading the coffee machine.
I turn silently around hoping to back away without being noticed but when I think I’ve pulled it off his warm low voice stops me:
“Ciara.”
I inhale deeply and plaster a friendly smile on my face.
“Good morning,” I say, pretending that his words haven’t shattered my heart.
“Do you want… there’s some—”
“Coffee? Yes, please.” I help him. It appears he’s not as good as I am at masking embarrassment.
I sit at the counter and set my huge, colorful purse down. I look at him from the corner of my eye and it would seem he hasn’t had an easy night of it.
Good, he deserves it.
Asshole.
His hair is messed up and he’s got bags under his eyes, his face drawn. He’s wearing a worn out T-shirt that is too large in front but permits me to see the bulging veins in his neck.
“Are you going someplace?” he asks with fake indifference.
“I have a tour this morning, I couldn’t pass it up,” I reply as he sets a steaming cup of coffee before me.
“How’s work going? Do you… like it?”
He’s trying to make conversation with me, the bastard.
“It helps me pay for school.”
Dry, sterile responses. He won’t get anything more out of me. Let him drown in his guilt.
“Do you need a ride?” he asks, avoiding eye contact.
“No thanks, I’ll take the bus.”
“It’s no problem for me.”
“Nor for me,” I say drily, standing up and ignoring my coffee.
