Wait… what? I sit back down onto the bed. Memories of my brother swirl in my mind. How? Could this be true? Too many imperative questions to pick out just one. Long quiet moments pass without either of us speaking. He’s keeping his distance. I focus on the present, what’s in front of me, and how I should begin. “What’s its name? The tarantula.”
His shoulders noticeably lower. “Louise,” he says a breath above a whisper.
“Thelma and Louise?” Eyes downcast; he confirms my hasty revelation with a head tilt. “You were… like, together, together?”
His body moves to the closet, pulling a shirt off the hanger ahead of advancing toward the floor to ceiling windows, toward the endless dark horizon. He’s telling me without his voice.
“Oh. Oh!” I look for something to busy my hands, finding a loose thread on the hem of my dress to fiddle with. This man makes me question how well I actually knew my brother. Through childhood we were thick as thieves, but as we grew up, he made room in his heart for others, I never considered. Was he scared to tell me? Theo meant the world to me; I would never judge him over who he chose to love. Is Eamon the secret I’m supposed to find?
“Are you a prince?” I wondered out loud, thinking back to the song my stalker played for me. I probably sound unhinged, but I suppose it’s better than telling him why I’m asking. Well… a song by Spin Doctors informed me you are in fact, not my stalker, and I was wondering if you were of noble blood? Yes… let’s avoid that.
A shy smirk works its way across his face, and I can’t help but chew on the inside of my cheek. Slowly, he makes his way to my side; his attentive glare trained on me. “I’m sure my fatherwould consider himself a king, but no, little fish, I’m no Prince Charming.” His words were hushed but spoken with conviction. I feel like even his answer has a riddle woven throughout.
The bed dips with his weight as he sits, naturally leaning me toward him. The shirt he now wears has the top few buttons undone with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows; past the ink on his skin. His large hand takes hold of mine, ceasing my ability to wind the rogue string on my outfit, around my finger.
As if he knew my plan to wrap it around, until it turns the tip of my finger white. Even now, he is tender with me. I seem to understand the dynamic better. Unable to meet his eyes, I settle on assessing the hollowed, shamrock sockets of his tattooed skull.
“You have so much to learn, little Princess. This much I can say, I wouldn’t touch a hair on your brother's head. Unless he asked me?—”
My hands shoot up to cover my face. “Oh god! Please don’t finish that sentence!” I absently feel for the flower shaped brooch, while trying to do anything but picture my brother with the man before me.
Removing his hand from mine, he stands abruptly. “Other things are at play. Everything goes far deeper than you could possibly fathom. There are people who want to hurt you, Cindel.” Each new revelation is more disturbing than the last. “Your family aren’t who you think they are.”
An unpleasant shiver works its way up my spine. “I’ve been trying to get close to you. Working up to telling you all of this… because Theo shouldn’t have left us. Now, it’s my job to protect his kid sister.”
I watch as his arms move, trying to convey his message as the word “sister” gets stuck on a loop in my brain. Hold on. That tattoo... Mairead! She has the same one on her shoulder. Mairead is Eamon’s sister! Like connecting toy bricks,everything snaps into place. Is he aware of my friendship with Mairead? Alarm bells began to sound in my ears. Everything is connected! Nothing is by chance… I need to get out of here. I try to control the tremor that quakes through my body. If not Eamon, then who wants to hurt me?
Fidgeting with the rose pin on my chest, I remind myself that I’m not alone in all this. I roll my shoulders back, mustering all the confidence I can, then stand to walk toward the bedroom door. “Fake it till you make it,” my mom would tell me. Especially whenever I was too nervous about what others would say.
The windows and low-lit room play with shadows. Eamon's silhouetted frame watches me inch toward the door, as he remains fixed in place against the dark navy sky.
Within the door frame to the hallway, I demand one more thing before I leave. “Who is my family, Mr. Murray?” I wait on bated breath with posture so rigid, it makes my neck ache.
His hands ideally find their way into his pant pockets. His gaze distant, not just physically but detached from the present conversation.
I ran my hands down the length of my dress, smoothing the wrinkles from sitting most of my time here.
He nods to himself before glancing down at the floor then back up to me. Even from across the room, his eyes appear lethal, like an invisible switch flips from my inquiry. “Look up… ‘Lombardi’ when you get home.” He pivots away from me, facing the water, as if that is my cue to leave.
I don’t waste a moment longer, I make my way to the kitchen, grab my belongings, and head for the elevator. Fortunate to find an already parked cab, I am on my way home shortly after exiting the ritzy apartment complex.
I clutch my chest, willing my heart to settle when I feel something is missing. Shit. My pin! The microphone rose broochmust have fallen off in Eamon’s room! My fingers find their way up to my mouth, as I begin to chew on the sides of my nails. A habit I commonly resorted to in my younger years; when I feel trapped or when others didn’t seem to want to accept me “as is.” Was Andrea able to hear clearly? Will she know everything that was said between Eamon and I?
Oh no… what if he finds it and knows it has a microphone? I’m not even sure what he would think. That I’m untrustworthy, a spy? At that point I realize something even more horrifying. Worse than Eamon, finding out I had a mic hidden within my flower pin. I’ve kissed my brother’s lover. I feel automatically queasy, either from not eating or partner sharing with my sibling, I can’t tell. Right before I’m about to christen the backseat of this taxi over my very own episode from the Jerry Springer show, I find a rogue mint in my bag to settle my stomach. Seriously, I couldn’t have made this shit up in my wildest dreams.
As soon as I pay the taxi driver, Andrea is bursting through the front of our building with half of her coat on, a sneaker on one foot, and a rain boot on the other.
We notice each other at the same time causing her to run the rest of the way to me. “Oh my god, I thought the worst! When I couldn’t hear you any longer, I realized it must have fallen off you… I got ready as fast as I could!”
I place my hands onto her shoulders trying to soothe her, when I’m not sure I look any less frazzled myself. “You didn’t even know where I was,” I say with a laugh.
“Of course I know,” she proclaims through labored breaths. “There’s a tracker on your phone.”
I point my finger toward her. “I knew it!”
Shortly after our interesting reunion on the street, we find ourselves back at the white board, as a frozen pizza cooks in theoven. I add a heart with a lame-looking spider between Theo and Eamon’s name.
“I didn’t hear anything after he spoke aboutnot harming a hair on your brother’s head. Was there anything else we should add to the board?”
