I open my mouth to answer him, but the air gets blocked in my lungs.
“Ian O’Connor,” says a voice from behind me, as a hand runs slowly down my arm. “His name is Ian O’Connor,” Riley repeats as I grab her hand with all the desperation in my heart.
* * *
“The house is simply stunning, Karen,”Riley admires the tree that dominates the living room, reaching from floor to ceiling.
“Thanks, dear,” my mother hands her a glass of wine and smiles before going to check up on my father.
I go over to her anxiously, aware that I need to say something, to explain and apologise for not having told her about my family’s problems. I hold her tightly around the waist and rest my chin on her shoulder.
“I should have told you.”
“Would you have? If I hadn’t come and figured it out for myself, would you have told me sooner or later?”
“I don’t know,” I say honestly.
“I’m sure you have your reasons for not telling me but I’d be happy knowing you trusted me.”
“It’s not that easy.”
“It’s not easy for me either, trusting someone. But I’m giving it a try.”
“It’s just that they’re my problems. I’m not ready to share them yet.”
Riley stiffens in my arms.
“And it seems like you haven’t been completely honest with me, have you?”
She pulls away from me to look me in the eyes.
“Well, maybe this thing between us isn’t the greatest idea, Ian,” she says seriously. “We’re both closed in behind our walls and I don’t let you in and you don’t let me in. There are no windows or doors. I just wonder sometimes what we’re doing,” she concludes, before leaving me standing there.
I look at my father in the armchair and my mother next to him. She speaks to him, caresses him and reassures him – and he lets her. Despite his confusion, he trusts her even if he doesn’t know who she is at times. He trusts her blindly. Maybe their love is stronger than any illness. Stronger than anything.
And maybe what Riley and I feel for each other looks nothing like this.
Maybe it doesn’t look like love at all.
