Well, my boy, the days grow longer, but my time here grows shorter.
This letter is about the house in Ireland, but I’d be remiss if I didn’t put into writing the things I’ve done my best to tell you to your face.I love you like a son, Nathan.Having you, Liam, Thea, and Rex in my life has been among the greatest sources of joy and pride in my life.You’re as much my family as my beloved Mae and Fiona.You know that, don’t you?It’s been an honour to watch you grow into the incredible man you are today, and it gives me a sense of peace knowing my girls will be looked after and loved once I’m gone.
“Jesus, Murph.”Something tickles my chin, and I roughly swipe away my tears before they can land on the paper.A glance at Fiona shows her watching me intently, her face wet with tears.I drop my gaze back to the paper, although it takes a minute for my vision to clear enough to keep reading.
Now, the cottage.I’m aware leaving it to you could cause some hurt feelings, but in my heart, it feels like the right decision.This is all spelled out in the will, but I’ll reiterate it here: I want you to keep the cottage for at least one year from the date you sign the papers taking ownership.If you decide not to keep it once the year is up, that’s your business, but think long and hard about it, won’t you?And be sure to do some of that thinking in the place itself, whether it’s on your own or with someone else.Or, hell,everyoneelse.Cram our entire family into the cottage and fill it to the rafters with laughter and music and love.
Now, I know you’re wondering why I left the house to you and not one of my girls.Being with you in Ireland created a series of beautiful memories that imprinted on my soul.You came alive in a way I’d never seen before.It filled me with indescribable pride to see you fall in love with my homeland.It reminded me of the way you fell in love with Fiona: slowly at first and then all at once, fully, with no going back.
I know things with Fiona have been tense for years, and you have your reasons.There’s always been a part of me that hoped the two of you would work things out, whatever that may look like.Friends, partners, something else entirely.You and I talked about everything under the sun, but one of my greatest wishes is something I never dared to say to your face.I’m dead now, though, aren’t I, so you can’t talk back or tell me not to be a sentimental old fool.
Make things right with Fiona.Not just for me, but for yourself too.Carrying this hurt through life hasn’t served you, has it, lad?You can’t keep that generous, soft heart of yours caged forever.And if you set it free, you might just find a way to make everyone happy.Either way, I know the cottage will stay in the family, and that’s all I want.
It goes without saying that you’ll take care of our family, but take care of yourself too.And never forget how precious you are to me and how very loved you are, always.
Murph
The breath I release is so heavy, it nearly blows the paper from my hands.Emotion bubbles inside me, rising from my gut up into my chest and throat.I expect a sob to wrench free, but it’s a laugh instead.I wipe my damp face with the sleeve of my sweater as uncontrollable laughter spills out of me.Fiona remains silent, watching me with a mix of amusement and bewilderment.
“I always knew your dad liked to have the last word, butthis…this takes the fucking cake,” I say, finally getting myself under control.I hold the letter out to Fiona.Instead of reaching for it immediately like I expect, she tucks her hands under her thighs.“You don’t have to read it, but you can if you want to.”
A myriad of emotions play across her face: surprise, hesitance, and gratitude, along with more I can’t quite pinpoint, yet somehow understand completely.
“Will you read it to me?”she whispers.
The soft entreaty stirs up more long-ago memories.Fiona always loved being read to.Murph used to read to us all the time when we were little; it didn’t matter what the story was, we were a captive audience, but no one more so than Fiona.As we got older, she’d ask me to read to her.She equated Murph reading to her with a child hearing a parent sing a lullaby: comforting and familiar.The words themselves didn’t even matter, it was about the connection.
She told me once it was the same when I read to her, yet also completely different.It was still about comfort and connection, but there were deeper layers to it.She eventually admitted how sexy it was when I read to her, how much she loved my voice, and could listen to me forever.On one memorable occasion, she even told me that listening to me read to her was like porn for her ears.
I’m guessing that’s not what this is about now.
I stare down at the letter until my vision blurs.Letting her read it is one thing, but reading ittoher is another thing entirely.
“Please, Nathan?I don’t think I can read it myself.”
And with that plea, I’m a goner.Just like I’vealwaysbeen a goner for Fiona Mae Murphy.After a few slow, deep breaths, I start reading.My voice shakes with suppressed emotion, but I keep going.I can’t look at her, partly because her quiet sniffles tell me she’s crying again.
When I finish reading, I fold the letter carefully and place it back in the envelope.I’ve always considered that old wooden box my ‘grab in case of fire’ item, so it seems like a fitting place to keep this last message from Murph.
“I love how much he loved you,” Fiona says, her voice wobbly.“And you’re right about him having to have the last word.The last part of that letter feels like a roundabout matchmaking attempt.”She huffs out a laugh, and I echo the sound.
“Will you go?”she asks.“To Ireland?To stay in the cottage and figure out what you want?”
Figure out what I want.I thought Ididhave it all figured out.I renovated my home to be exactly what I wanted it to be: somewhere comfortable and quiet, a safe haven, a place I’m proud to call my own.Is it a little lonely sometimes?Sure.Do I occasionally feel like I’m being haunted by the past?Yes.But it’s mine, and the people I love seem to enjoy being here.Rex even has his own room, decorated to his exact specifications.
I’ve created a life I’m content with.Besides the renovations on this house, Liam and I built a business from the ground up and have expanded it into something beyond our wildest dreams.I haven’t allowed myself much time or space to think of anything beyond that, especially after Murph got his diagnosis last year.I haven’t examined the thread of discontent that’s woven its way into my life since Fiona came home last December and we slept together.
My lapse in judgement highlighted the things I’ve been missing in my life.The physical side of a relationship, yes, but the intimate side too.The connection with another person.It reminded me I’ve never had a bond with anyone like the one I shared with Fiona, and made me wonder—not for the first time—if I ever would.
Since she’s been home, that thread of discontent has been tugging harder.Staying away from her didn’t work.Holding onto old resentments didn’t work.Letting her in…well, if tonight is any indication, that’s painful too, although for entirely different reasons.No matter what I do, I feel like I’m fucked.
“Yeah, I’ll go to Ireland,” I say suddenly.Fiona’s eyebrows arch, but she schools her face quickly.“Maybe this summer I could go for a couple of weeks.I wouldn’t feel right about leaving Mae yet.”
“I’m here,” she points out.
But for how long?The unspoken words hang in the air between us.My spacious living room suddenly feels like a shoebox.The last hour has been a rollercoaster of emotions, and I’m wrung out.
Fiona unfolds her legs from beneath her and slides to sit on the edge of the couch.“If you need any help planning your trip, I’m your girl.I can find you cheap flights and organize your transportation to the cottage.”Her voice is steady now with a briskness to it.She’s returning to solid ground by taking the emotion out of things and switching to her area of expertise.“I could even create a whole itinerary for you if you wanted to see more of Ireland.Dad would love for you to explore more of his homeland.”
