4.
Maggie
I was completely exhausted by the end of the day. Cleaning the Connolly house was my most labour-intensive job of the week, so I was always wrecked afterwards. It was also a Friday, which meant the bus journey home would be packed. Yay!
When I arrived at the bus stop, a group of men were being loud. They’d clearly had a few drinks, perhaps over a business dinner, and were making their presence known to everyone within hearing distance. After the encounter with the guy outside my flat the other night, it seemed I couldn’t get away from those types lately.
Hearing them make rude comments about several of the women waiting for the bus, I tried my best to stay off their radar. He wasn’t there yet, and I knew I would’ve felt less on edge about the tipsy businessmen if he were close by. There was something reassuring about his presence, like nothing bad could happen while he was near.
He arrived just as I spotted the bus approaching. I got on board, swiped my card and sat in my usual seat. The businessmen were still being loud but at least they went upstairs to the upper deck to continue their offensive banter. I noticed him watching them as they ascended, a frown marring his features. His eyes flicked to mine, and my heart raced when he gave a small nod.
Wait, did he actually just acknowledge me?
That was the most interaction I’d ever gotten from him, and it made my heart race. I managed to compose myself enough to nod back, and he moved by me to sit two rows behind as usual.
Laughter and hoots of enjoyment sounded from the top deck. There was barely a seat empty on the entire bus, and anyone I made eye contact with looked just as put out by the noise as I was. There was nothing worse than working hard all day and then having to endure loud drunks on the journey home.
We were nearing a stop when a woman came down from the top deck looking harassed and upset. She walked to the front of the bus, raked a hand through her hair, then quickly alighted once the bus came to a halt. More people got on, and I glanced momentarily behind me to see him allowing an older woman to take his seat. My heart melted just a little as I watched him take hold of the railing to balance himself.
Just like that, he was forgiven for ignoring me yesterday. People who gave up their seats for those who needed them more were becoming a rare commodity these days.
His dark eyes flicked to mine and held. I didn’t know what to do. I was locked in his stare, and I couldn’t look away until my phone vibrated in my bag, distracting me. I pulled it out and saw my little sister, Vivi, was calling.
She was only my half-sister. My mother had me young, and I’d never known who my father was. It had been just the two of us and a collection of short-term boyfriends, none of whom I’d ever warmed to. Mam had a knack for picking the worst of the worst. Then, when I was sixteen, she met Darren and fell head over heels into the kind of dysfunctional love that destroys everything around it. As soon as she became pregnant with Vivi, Darren began making noises about me moving out and getting a place of my own. I was a teenager, barely old enough to get a job, but Mam agreed and said it was time for me to make my own way in the world.
I’d cried and begged to stay. Even though the two of them drank and did drugs in ways that scarred me enough to never want a single drop of alcohol for the rest of my life, the idea of being homeless was even more terrifying.
But there was no changing their minds. Mam packed my bag and sent me on my way. I was on the streets for a few weeks before I managed to figure out how to get into a foster home, which was better in some ways and worse in others. Over the next few years, I endured a harsh and brutal early introduction to the world of adulthood while my mother and Darren went on to have four children together: Vivi, the twins Shelly and Robbie, and the youngest, Eamonn. I only got to see them on the rare occasions Mam allowed me to visit, so I never really had much of a relationship with them during the earlier part of their lives.
Then, a few years later, Mam and Darren self-destructed in a way that was surprising to nobody, and their children were placed in the foster care system. Luckily, they’d all been able to stay together. I offered to become their guardian, but I’d been twenty-three years old at the time with no money and no long-term form of accommodation. I’d been quickly deemed an unsuitable candidate. Even now, at thirty-one, I felt like I’d failed them. I didn’t earn enough to support four kids, nor would my studio flat ever be big enough to house them.
Despite that, I’d managed to maintain a friendship with Vivi, and the younger ones were always happy to see me when I visited. Vivi was fourteen and had her own mobile phone, so we could keep in touch.
“Hello,” I answered, bringing the phone to my ear.
“Hi, Maggie!” she greeted.
“Vivi, how are you?”
“I’m fine. I just …” she trailed off, and I heard the nerves in her voice. I recognised them well. She needed something but felt bad about asking.
“What is it? Do you need something? Because you know I’m happy to help,” I said, gently encouraging.
She cleared her throat. “Well, actually, um, honestly, Maggie, I hate to do this, but my class is going on a field trip to Glendalough this month, and I need twenty euros to pay for the bus and lunch. Could you loan it to me? I promise I’ll pay you back.”
My heart sank just listening to her because I knew how it felt to never have money for school trips. As far as I knew, Vivi’s foster parents didn’t ever give her or her siblings cash for incidentals.
“Of course,” I replied. “I’ll drop it over to you tomorrow, and please don’t worry about paying me back. I hope your brothers and Shelly are doing okay.”
“They’re good. Though Eamonn had a stomach bug all week and had to stay off school. Ken and Delia weren’t happy about it.”
Ken and Delia were their foster parents, and though they were decent folks, they weren’t the most generous or loving. I was pretty sure they became foster parents for the money and to have the ability to boss a bunch of kids around and make them do all the chores they were too lazy to do themselves. Still, they were far better than the foster parents I’d endured.
“Poor Eamonn. I’ll bring something nice for him tomorrow and for Robbie and Shelly, too.”
“Thanks, Maggie. They’ll appreciate that. I’ll see you then.”
“See you,” I said before ending the call.
Communicating with Vivi wasn’t what I imagined talking to a typical fourteen-year-old was like. She’d had to grow up fast, just as I had, but it was worse for her in a way because I only had myself to worry about. Vivi had three younger siblings to shelter under her wing. That was why I always went out of my way to help make her life easier in any way I could.
I’d made it clear if she needed something, she shouldn’t ever hesitate to contact me. I wasn’t rich by any stretch of the imagination, but I’d give her whatever I could manage when she needed it.
I was so wrapped up in thinking about my half-siblings I almost forgot I was still on the bus. A loud clatter sounded from the upper deck, and then the group of businessmen started filing down the steps. They were getting off now, thank goodness.
I slid my phone back in my bag just as someone shouted, “Hey, Red, can I get your number?”
Pores prickled at the back of my neck, and I just knew one of the drunks was directing his question at me. I thought the best thing to do was ignore him, but he wasn’t deterred, “Red, hello, are you listening to me?”
Blowing out a nervous breath, I turned to face them, but then saw he was making his way down the aisle. A shiver tiptoed down my spine when he moved in front of the businessmen, eyeing them coldly. He didn’t breathe a word, but his expression said it all. Leave her alone.
My pulse pounded in my ears. Was he … was he helping me?
“What the fuck do you want?” the ringleader slurred, but he remained silent. The drunk barked a cruel laugh. “Jesus fucking Christ, are you simple? Get out of my way.”
He shook his head and took a step closer, crowding the drunk guy.
“Are you seeing this prick?” he shot off to his buddies.
“Give him a few jabs, Marty. That’ll sort him,” his pal said.
“Maybe I will.”
Still, he didn’t move a muscle. I had no idea why he was getting involved. These arseholes were my problem; though, it did make my stomach flutter he’d stepped in.
I could practically feel the tension of every single passenger watching the altercation as the vehicle came to a stop. A few people hurried off the bus, including the woman who’d been sitting next to me.
“Hey! Are you lot getting off or what?” the driver called out.
“Yeah, just as soon as I put this prick in his place,” the drunk replied, straightening his shoulders.
Oh, crap. That wasn’t going to end well. Acting on instinct, I rose from my seat and managed to slide in between him and the drunk. I didn’t acknowledge the drunk, instead fixing my attention on him. I wasn’t sure what possessed me when I pressed my hand to his chest, my palm sliding against the rough fabric of his jacket. I looked at his face, but his eyes were fixated on my hand. Then he looked up, those probing eyes meeting mine as I shook my head.
“It’s not worth it,” I said and noticed how those eyes had now lowered to my mouth. “Ignore them,” I went on, my voice quiet but insistent.
“Hey, Red, never mind this prick. Come for a drink with us,” the drunk said, and I felt him touch my hair just before his hand gently went to my waist, pulling me back behind him as he glared bloody murder at the drunk for touching me. I sensed he might hit him right before the bus driver emerged from his cubicle, wielding a crowbar of all things.
“Right, that’s it. You lot,” he shouted in a thick inner-city accent, pointing the crowbar at the group of troublemakers. “Get out now before I bate the heads off the lot of yas!”
“Bloody hell, calm down,” one of them said as they huddled together and quickly fled the bus. The driver, who was probably in his fifties, had clearly experienced years of dealing with troublesome passengers. I was pretty sure his bosses would have something to say about him keeping a crowbar in the vehicle, but needs must. It was either that or let troublemakers cause mayhem and walk all over him.
He gave a satisfied nod when they were gone, then everyone on the bus started to clap and cheer. A sheepish smile tugged at his lips. He returned the crowbar to his driving cubicle before waving away the applause. “All in a day’s work,” he said. “Now, I better get you all home before your dinners go cold.”
A few people chuckled, but I was too busy focusing on how he still stood close to me. His hand was no longer on my hip, but I could still feel his touch like it was branded into my skin.
Not knowing what else to do, I glanced up at him, my expression grateful as I whispered, “Thank you,” before retaking my seat. My heart was still racing when a shadow fell over me, and I glanced to my right just in time to see him sliding into the free seat next to me. He never sat beside me. Never.
Everything within me thrummed with awareness. I turned to him, thanking him once more. “Thanks again for stepping in like that. Those guys were arseholes.”
His eyes were focused on my lips again, which made something flutter in my chest, but then he looked me in the eye, brought his hand to his throat and slowly shook his head. There was something pointed in his expression, and I frowned, not understanding. A moment later, it dawned on me. Oh … oh.
He couldn’t speak.
“You’re deaf?” I asked, but he shook his head again and touched his throat. My eyes lowered to the smooth, olive skin of his neck, startling when I saw the slim scar. I’d never seen a scar like that on someone’s throat, and I hadn’t been close enough to notice it on him until then.
Suddenly, it made sense why he hadn’t responded to me yesterday. He hadn’t been able to. And now I felt terrible because all that time I’d thought he’d ignored me.
“You’re mute?” I said, unsure if that was the correct term.
Finally, he nodded, a warmth in his gaze that made my cheeks heat. I glanced at the silvery scar again, wondering what happened to him. Was he in some kind of accident? Such injuries were rare but certainly not impossible.
“I’m Maggie,” I went on. “It’s nice to meet you.” I held out my hand, and he glanced down, hesitating a moment before he shook it. His palm slid along mine, and a spark went through me at his touch. It was even more intense now that there was nothing between us, just skin.
His hand was warm and so much larger, practically engulfing mine. For a second, I was self-conscious, hoping my hands didn’t feel too dry from wearing rubber gloves and using cleaning products all day. If he noticed, he didn’t show it, his eyes still intent on mine.
He withdrew his hand, then reached into his pocket, retrieving his phone. I watched as his screen came to life. He typed something before turning and holding the phone out to me.
Just like that, my stomach twisted and panic set in. He’d written a message for me on his phone. It was probably how he communicated with new people he met all the time. He had no idea the very sight of him typing was enough to send me into a shame spiral.
It wasn’t that I couldn’t read. I could, but my dyslexia and the fact my schooling was limited meant I took a lot longer to read things than the average person. It was why I only listened to audiobooks despite loving stories, and though I’d wanted to enrol in an adult literacy course for years, I’d never drummed up the courage to go ahead and do it.
Long story short, if I tried to read whatever he’d written, he was going to quickly learn something about me I didn’t want him to know. My pride wouldn’t allow it.
He looked at me meaningfully, motioning to his phone. I knew my cheeks were red as I stared at it like he was wielding a cup of poison. Then the bus started to slow down, and I saw we were nearing our stop.
“Oh, that’s my stop. Better get off,” I said, flustered as I jumped up from my seat like it was made from hot coals and hurried to the exit. As soon as the bus slowed to a halt, I jumped off, speedwalking in the direction of my flat. I couldn’t bring myself to look back, to see if he was looking at me rushing down the street like I couldn’t get away from him fast enough.
It was only as I reached my flat I realised how bad that must’ve come across. It looked like I’d discovered he was mute, awkwardly introduced myself, then scarpered when he tried to use his phone to communicate with me.
I’d finally interacted with him, and I’d messed it up monumentally. Possibly irrevocably.