“Why is it such a pain in the ass for you? All I’m asking you is to do is go and pick up Ciara.”
And that’s true, he isn’t asking me for any great sacrifice: just go there, get her, bring her here. That’s it. And yet, I can’t do it. I can’t be in such a confined space, like my car, alone with her. Not after the other night.
“Oh, fine!” I say, giving up. I don’t have any excuse I can use and if I insist, he’ll just ask some pointed questions, making the whole thing worse.
“Jesus, did it really take this much? Hurry up, she’s probably already at home waiting by now.”
Without saying another word, I take the keys and leave the pub. We’re all busy tonight but the wedding is imminent and we’ve all got our own tasks to do. Erin is ruthless, she wants everything to be perfect and who can blame her, it’s her day. As far as Patrick’s concerned it’s enough for him that she’s happy. He’d do anything to see her smile.
I get in the car and try to force a bit of courage. I feel my stomach tied up in knots. I feel like I’m being eaten from the inside out and it’s suffocating. Thank God I didn’t eat anything because otherwise I’d risk throwing up on the dashboard.
And I drive almost without breathing, the traffic is really slowing me down: I should have gotten to Pearse St in a maximum of thirty minutes but I’ve been closed in this little box of sardines with insufficient oxygen to fill my lungs for at least fifty.
I park in front of Patrick’s family’s door and get out, praying that my legs will move. Right foot, left foot—not difficult, right?
The idea of seeing her now, being alone with her and being forced to face the whole ‘roof thing’ together with the ‘hug thing’ and the ‘bed thing’… Jesus, I need to think about something else, anything else to distract me from this nail that is driving straight into my cranium.
I knock on the door with butterflies in my stomach and my mind in a daze but no one answers. The lights are out, maybe nobody’s home yet. I look at my watch and realize I’m seriously late. She should have been expecting Patrick over an hour ago.
I take a look around to make sure no one is coming, that no one is about to pop around the corner before deciding to start walking towards Trinity College where perhaps she was delayed after her lessons.
Anything to avoid standing here like a chump, letting myself be eaten alive.
Keep moving.
I shove my hands in my pockets and pull up the hood on my sweatshirt, I don’t even have a fucking jacket—I certainly didn’t think I’d be outside all night.
I walk two hundred, three hundred meters maybe before hearing a yell coming from the low-income housing nearby. I freeze where I am on the sidewalk and strain to hear. Another shout makes my limbs quiver and anguish rises in my throat. I run like a crazy man directly to where the sound seems to be coming from until I get round the corner and the scene before me awakens all of the rage I ever felt as a boy towards the world, all the rage I set aside to take care of Rain and our lives. I start sprinting, prepared to see blood flowing in rivers when the man becomes aware of me and takes off before I can get to him.
I run to her and grab her shoulders, scaring her again and making her scream once more.
Then I turn her towards me and hold her tight enough to feel her body melt with mine.
It’s just a terrifying sensation.
I caress her back gently and whisper to tell her to take it easy, that everything is alright and she breaks into sobs, and I wish I could placate her feelings but I’m unable to, because right now, I swear, I would like to cry too, right after having split that guy’s head in two.
“Are you alright?” I ask her, moving her away from me to look her in the eyes. The tears continue falling down her face together with a half a kilo of the make-up she had on her eyes.
She nods before I wrap her in my arms and start breathing again.
My heart is completely out of whack. It’s beating furiously against my ribcage, reminding me that perhaps I haven’t buried it deep enough. Because there is something,someone, that is able to bring it back to the surface and awaken all of my emotions. To bring back everything I was no longer able to feel.
I tell myself, maybe that’s a good thing because it must mean I still haven’t transformed into a slab of ice, that I can still recognize an emotion when it grabs hold of me; but then I remember who it is that my heart has started beating again for, the person who has made my blood start to flow again. The one for whom I would have killed someone with my bare hands tonight.
And I start really shaking because we’re talking about a girl that until yesterday was wearing a school uniform with a pleated skirt and kneesocks. Ciara, who is now grown and has become a beautiful woman and… God, I’m messing with my own head now.
“Come on. I’ll take you home,” I tell her.
She nods and tries to take a few steps but bends over, touching her knee.
“Something wrong?”
“I think I banged my knee when I hit the ground,” she says, touching it again.
“Let me have a look.” I crouch down to the level of her knees and notice that her stockings are completely torn, both knees are bleeding and seem to be swollen as well.
“Are you able to walk?” I ask her, standing up and looking at her again.
