She goes to speak but stops and raises her hands. ‘Sorry, I know. OK, so what do you filí báis do?’
I give myself a moment to let the anger melt.
‘We tell their stories, stories of death and war. We make art so that people can remember and even experience it. I think that’s what happened to you at the docks. I helped you see what I saw.’
Meg lowers her gaze. ‘Oh, I thought I was…’ She shakes her head. ‘Sorry, yes, that’s incredible. So, what, your whole family can do it?’
That buzz of excitement starts to tingle again. ‘Yeah, my ancestors on my dad’s side. All the way back. We made a blood vow with the Morrigan, apparently. To tell their stories. We see something and we have to make art from it. Tell someone quickly, or else…’
‘You forget,’ says Meg.
‘Yes, but also if we ignore them then they can…harm us, I think.’
‘Fuck,’ Meg says. ‘So you do it. You do your job and tell their stories. So we remember the forgotten, like that baby. You tell her story because she matters. I knew it!’
‘Yeah, you were right.’
‘What can I say, I often am.’ Her smile is infectious. ‘I know it doesn’t feel amazing right now, but this is so important, Michael. You get that, right? How important you are.’
I nod. ‘Starting to.’
‘We’d better work out what story they want you to tell.’
‘Yeah, I think if we do that, we get to my dad.’
‘I hope so. And what about your nan?’ says Meg.
‘I don’t know.’ I’m still too angry, too shocked by what she’s done. I hate feeling angry at people nearly as much as I can’tstand the thought of anyone being angry at me. I grew up terrified that I’d upset Dad or add to Mum’s worries. Anger leads to fights and confrontation, and I’d do anything to avoid that. I calm down quickly. I apologise. I do whatever I can to make the problem go away.
But I’ve not had to deal with anything like this before.
Someone I trust lied to me, took something from me. A memory. A memory about Dad. The heat around my neck flares up again. How could she? I thought she loved me.
You’re not very lovable.
I sink against the wall and a heavy numbness falls across my head and shoulders.
You get in the way.
Meg is waiting for me to continue, but I can’t think of what to say.
She’s going to realise how pathetic you are.
I close my eyes and try to fight that dark part of me, but it’s hard because it speaks to me in my own voice. It’s calm and rational. It comes before exams to tell me I’m a failure. It whispers that I’m ugly when Ben doesn’t return my calls and messages. It assures me that I’m to blame for Dad not wanting to be with us any more.
‘Michael? You OK?’
No.
‘Yeah.’ I mumble.
‘Well, that’s a lie.’
She knows you’re worthless…
I trail the corners of my mouth into a smile. ‘No, honestly, all good.’
‘You can’t possibly be all good after what happened.’
