5.
Shay
Maggie.
Her name was Maggie.
I stood by the bus shelter, a light trickle of rain beginning to fall as I watched her hurry away from me. Frowning at her departure, I slid my phone into my pocket, buttoned my jacket higher to defend against the rain, then turned in the direction of home.
I was confused and disappointed. Why had she reacted so strangely when I tried to show her a message on my phone? All it said was, Hello Maggie, I’m Shay.
For some bizarre reason, she hadn’t wanted to look at it. There was panic and fear in her eyes, and it baffled me. Finally, after so many months riding the bus together, we’d officially met, but something about me scared her off.
Was it the obvious? Was she freaked out by my mutism?
I’d been unable to speak almost my entire life, and sometimes, people reacted poorly when they found out. I’d experienced the gamut of reactions. Some people were cool, others emotional and pitying, a few were dismissive or mean, but no one had ever reacted like her. She’d seemed surprised but understanding at first. Then I’d offered her my phone, and she fled. It didn’t make any sense.
Perhaps she was still on edge because of that dickhead hassling her.
My temper rose just thinking about him.
I dealt with pricks like him on occasion at work. You’d be amazed the amount of people who stayed at five-star hotels who proceeded to get belligerently drunk and had to be removed from the hotel’s bar or restaurant and escorted back to their rooms. That was my job, to be the muscle. I’d been unemployed for a few months before my cousin, Rhys, offered me a place on his security team at The Balfe Hotel. My last job hadn’t ended well. I had to leave because of a bad situation, and I’d sank into a depression for a while after I put in my notice. Rhys was the one who encouraged me to try again.
The very first day waiting for the bus, I saw her. Maggie. It had been raining heavily, and her freckled cheeks were flushed as she shook out her umbrella and smiled at me as we waited under the shelter. Sometimes, women smiled at me. They liked how I looked, my height and athletic physique, but often, they were weirded out when they discovered I was mute.
Was that the case with Maggie?
I hated to think it because her smile seemed different that first day. She wasn’t checking me out. It was a kind smile, one free of anything other than simple pleasantry between two strangers.
Her dark red hair had been plastered to her forehead, and my gaze had drifted to her chest as she’d unzipped the top half of her coat and tried to dry out the T-shirt she had on underneath. As she fiddled with the neckline, I’d caught a glimpse of her bra, and a bolt of arousal had shot through me. But it wasn’t merely that glimpse that snagged me. There was something about her. Something unique.
She was pretty, yes, but that wasn’t what held me so captivated. It was the layers of emotion in her eyes. I’d never seen eyes like hers. They held multitudes.
I saw her most days after that, and the more I saw her, the more invested I became. She was an unusual person, moving through the world like she was invisible, but she was far from invisible to me.
I reached my childhood home, where I still lived with my dad, and slotted my key in the door. It was a quiet life with just the two of us. On Sundays, my brother, Ross, his family, my cousin, Rhys, and my best friend, Nigel, came over for dinner. Dad cooked a roast each week for all of us. It was something Mam used to do when she was alive, and Dad refused to break the tradition. I was glad for it because my family were the only people I was comfortable enough being myself around. They all knew sign language, so I could communicate freely. I didn’t need to explain myself or wait for people to understand that yes, I could hear perfectly fine, but no, I couldn’t speak.
No, I wasn’t just pretending.
You’d be surprised the amount of people who thought it was some kind of trick I was playing on the world. Some clever way of getting attention.
The simple truth was that when I was six years old, I had a tumour on my vocal cords that had to be removed. There were complications during surgery that resulted in permanent damage.
Ever since then, I’ve been quiet in a world full of sound.
It’s not the most debilitating thing to have to deal with, but it does make life difficult in various ways. For instance, I rarely eat out alone. It’s too awkward trying to communicate with servers to tell them what I want to order. Also, telephone calls are out; though, luckily, these days most people prefer texts. Still, I hate that when we need a plumber or an electrician, I have to rely on my dad to call them.
I’ve also never really socialized in the usual ways, like going out to pubs and clubs. I tried for a little while when I was in my early twenties, but I always felt so peripheral, like I was standing on the outside looking in. A little bit invisible, and I soon gave up.
Perhaps that was why I was so drawn to Maggie. We were two people the world rarely looked at, and we moved through it like ghosts. Sometimes, it amazed me how no one else noticed her as I did. There was this beautiful, unassuming, intriguing woman, and I was the only one who could really see her.
Thinking of her brought back the uncomfortable feeling in my chest. I’ve wanted to know her for so long, and our first interaction certainly could’ve gone better.
I remembered her face the other day as we waited for the bus. She’d clearly been crying, and I wanted to know so badly who’d upset her. I wanted to fix whatever was wrong. But I had no way to ask, and even if I could’ve spoken to her, it wasn’t like she’d tell a virtual stranger about her problems.
Our eight-year-old black retriever, Daniel, was sitting on the stairs and gave a bark when I stepped into the house. I smiled at my dog, his tongue lolling as he dove forward and insisted on licking my face while I gave him ear scratches.
“Shay, is that you?” Dad called from the living room where I could hear the evening news playing. Daniel hurried in to Dad while I took off my coat and boots, then walked into the room and signed at him, Hi, Dad.
“Good day at work?”
It was fine.
He nodded at me, then glanced out the window. “Miserable weather out there. I suppose it’ll only get worse as we head into winter. There’s some chicken and spuds in the oven if you’re hungry.”
Again, I nodded and went into the kitchen to eat, starving after my long shift at the hotel. I set the plate down on the table, then heard the familiar clip of Daniel’s paws as he came and sat down dutifully on the floor beside me, staring up with pleading brown eyes.
Get a dog, and you’ll never eat another meal alone.
I chuckled, rubbed his head and made sure to keep a bite of chicken for him at the end.
***
On Monday morning, I woke at my usual time, turning off my alarm clock as I headed for the shower. Dad was still asleep. He was retired, so he normally slept until about eight or nine. Before I started working at the hotel, I’d gotten into the bad habit of sleeping until noon, which only seemed to worsen my depression.
I’d always be grateful to Rhys for dragging me out of it and forcing me back into the land of the living.
A little while later, I headed for the bus, eager to see Maggie. I wanted another chance at interacting with her. Sometimes, my being mute could be uncomfortable for people to get their heads around. But Maggie didn’t seem like the kind of person who would think less of me because I couldn’t speak. Then again, I’d built her up in my head to be this kind, non-judgemental person, and she might not be how I imagined her at all.
I did, after all, have a track record of putting my faith in the wrong people. Well, the wrong person. My last relationship ended poorly. My girlfriend, Emer, confessed she’d cheated on me while out drinking with her friends one night. She’d gone home with a random man she’d picked up and had kept it a secret for several weeks. Then the guilt got to her, and she’d finally told me. I’d been heartbroken, and though she’d begged for us to work through it and stay together, I just couldn’t.
Everything between us changed, and I couldn’t look at her the same way. The feelings I’d had for her vanished, like a puff of dust. It just didn’t make sense how she could throw away our two-year relationship on a random hookup. It was out of character for her, and I still sometimes found myself wondering why she did it. I never got a straight answer, and I probably never would.
Still, maybe I didn’t need one. I didn’t love Emer anymore. Her betrayal destroyed that. Maybe if I were a more forgiving person, we could’ve made it work, but I wasn’t. If she could ruin our relationship on something as frivolous as a one-night stand, on a fleeting bit of excitement and pleasure, then we weren’t meant to be.
I reached the bus stop, but Maggie hadn’t arrived yet. It was a cold morning, and there were several other people waiting. When the bus approached, Maggie still hadn’t appeared. In all the months I’d been taking the bus to work, she’d never failed to show. It was possible she was sick, but it seemed unlikely. She was always there. Gut twisting, I climbed on and scanned my card. I took my seat and peered out the window. Maybe she was running late.
The bus pulled away, but there was still no sign of her. The pain in my gut increased. I needed to know if something about me, besides the obvious, freaked her out so much she had to rush off so swiftly on Friday. That she’d decided to skip work today or perhaps take a different bus.
My thoughts went in circles, and by the time I’d arrived at the hotel, I was in a bad mood. I walked through the staff entrance, my face twisted into a glower as I headed for the security office. Rhys was already there, watching the monitors when I arrived.
My cousin was a big man. He’d been chubby as a kid, but all the baby fat had transformed into muscle and brawn as he got older. I wasn’t a small bloke either, but Rhys was even bigger than I was. It was no wonder he was so suited to his job as Head of Security because he was the sort of man you took one look at and thought yeah, I’m not going to push my luck with him.
“Morning, Shay,” he said.
Hi, Rhys, I signed. Any trouble yet this morning?
He shook his head. “It’s been quiet so far.” His eyes went to my jacket as I took it off and shook out some of the rain. “Christ man, are you still taking the bus? I thought you might’ve saved enough for a car by now.”
Not yet, I replied, though that wasn’t technically true. I had enough savings for a modest second-hand car, but I hadn’t looked into buying one because that meant I wouldn’t need to take the bus anymore. And as established, I had my reasons for taking the bus.
My dad also had an old Volkswagen I could’ve used to drive to work, but I preferred him to have access to it while I was away in case of an emergency. He also liked to drive to the beach in the mornings, so Daniel could go for a run, and he couldn’t do that if I took the car to work with me.
“Guess you can say you’re doing your bit for the environment, eh,” Rhys went on, and I shrugged as he stood from the chair he’d been sitting in and clapped me on the shoulders.
“You watch the monitors for a while. Page me if you need me. Carl will be in at twelve to take over, then you can hang around reception after lunch. There’s a big group checking in from the States later, so it’ll be busy out front.”
Okay, I signed, and he left to go to his office. All members of the security team carried small pagers to enable me to communicate with them easily. Rhys had arranged it when he hired me, and thankfully, everyone seemed fine with carrying them. My cousin split his time between that Balfe Hotel and the other one out by the coast. Both were owned by the wealthy Balfe family, who Rhys had grown up with, though I knew he had a bit of a hard time being the only one in his friend group who didn’t come from money. Still, the Balfes loved him. So much so he might as well have been another member of the family.
I focused my attention on the monitors, but my mind kept wandering back to Maggie, wondering where she’d been that morning. I tried to quit fixating. She was probably just late. And besides, I didn’t even know her. It was none of my business where she was.
About an hour into my shift, I got up to grab some coffee. Another of the security staff, Jean, had arrived and was sitting at the monitors with me. Jean was a quiet woman in her forties, and we didn’t interact much because she didn’t know sign language, but I still liked her because she was decent and respectful towards me. She didn’t act put out by the fact she couldn’t communicate with me in the usual ways.
I typed out a quick message and showed it to her.
Cup of coffee?
Jean glanced at the screen, then nodded gratefully. “Yes, love. Thank you.”
I typed some more.
Milk, two sugars?
Jean smiled. “It’s three sugars, and you know it. Quit trying to get me to be healthier, ya cheeky fecker.”
I grinned and went to get the coffees. The staff break room wasn’t too far from the security office, and there were a few workers in there when I entered. I didn’t really interact with the staff who weren’t on the security team, and they tended to view me as a bit of an oddity, but that was always the way. No matter where I worked, there were going to be people who viewed me as strange.
As I hit the button on the coffee machine, I heard a familiar pair of high heels clip into the room. Stephanie Moran was the hotel’s PR Manager. She was also Rhys’ fiancée. The first time he introduced us, she’d asked me how I liked working there. When Rhys explained why I wasn’t responding, she’d paled and looked incredibly embarrassed.
Later, I heard her scolding Rhys for not warning her about me and how humiliating the interaction had been. I felt bad for causing a fight between them and had tried to slip Stephanie a note saying I wasn’t offended, but she avoided me like the plague. I could never tell if it was because she was still embarrassed about our first meeting or if she simply didn’t think I was someone worth making an effort to get to know.
There were people who discounted me simply because of how I was, but I tried to give Stephanie the benefit of the doubt because she was getting married to my cousin.
I turned, holding the two paper coffee cups for me and Jean, when Stephanie’s gaze landed on me. I gave her a nod, and her eyes flared in panic like she was anxious I was going to try and have a conversation with her in sign language or something. I didn’t stop and continued on my way to the office.
Glancing back when I reached the door, I saw her shoulders slump in relief.
Maybe something about me made her nervous. It happened. People often thought someone so silent wasn’t to be trusted. Like not being able to speak meant I was keeping secrets, hiding a dark side. Ridiculous, yes, but you never could tell what crazy ideas people would concoct.
And to be honest, a small part of me was a little bit bothered by her avoidance. Rhys and I were family. We were close, and given my mutism, there were very few people in my life whose companionship I valued. Rhys was one of those people. We spent a lot of time together, and if his life partner was intent on pretending I didn’t exist, then I worried it might cause Rhys to become distant with me over time, eventually favouring her over me.
It was a selfish instinct, something I wasn’t proud of, but I couldn’t deny how I felt.
When I finished my shift at the end of the day, I was eager to see if Maggie was waiting at the bus stop. I practically speedwalked all the way there, but again, there was no sign of her. Disappointment filled me, and the thought of never seeing her again was almost painful.
Why was I so attached to this woman whom I didn’t even know?
The rest of the week went the same way. Every time I reached the bus stop, I hoped to see her, but she’d disappeared, turned into the ghost I sometimes imagined her to be.
The thought she was avoiding me, just like Stephanie avoided me, gave me a sick feeling. I’d allowed myself to have ideas about her, to get my hopes up, especially when she finally spoke to me that day when it was just the two of us at the bus stop. I, of course, hated that I couldn’t respond, that I’d had to let her believe I was simply ignoring her. But I’d taken courage from the fact she’d talked to me. I’d let myself believe she wanted to know me.
Now, after a week without seeing her at all, I didn’t know what to believe.
On Saturday, I took Dad out for our usual routine. We attended mid-morning mass at St. Peter’s Church, then we went for tea and scones at a nearby café, finishing it off with a quick visit to the supermarket for some groceries before heading home for a quiet evening watching television. Well, Dad watched television while I sat at my desk by the window doing my pencil sketches.
We’d just left mass and were heading for the café when I saw her. It was like time slowed down as Maggie stepped out of a charity shop carrying a brown paper bag. Our eyes met. She looked so pretty, her cheeks flushed and her hair down. I didn’t think I’d ever seen her with her hair down before. It was always tied up or tucked away under a woolly hat. The sight of her caused some of the tension that had built in my chest during her absence to ease. The tightness in my lungs eased, too, and I felt like I could breathe again.
She blinked, looking startled to see me, and I just stood there, frozen in place like she was some kind of apparition.
“What is it?” Dad asked, looking back at me and clearly wondering why I’d stopped walking. Then his attention went to Maggie. “Do you know this young woman, son?” he asked. Her eyes flickered back and forth between the two of us, putting it together that he was my dad.
Yes, I signed. Her name is Maggie. I know her from the bus to work.
“Ah, I see,” Dad said before returning his attention to the woman I’d been obsessed with for months. I couldn’t believe she was standing in front of me. All week, I’d been convinced she’d fallen off the face of the planet. “My son tells me you’re Maggie, and he knows you from the bus?”
“Y-yes,” she replied, clearly nervous. “That’s correct, hello.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you. Any friend of Shay’s is a friend of mine,” he said, and her eyes flared hearing my name for the first time. Something hot burned in my chest because I’d wanted her to know my name for ages, and now, thanks to Dad, she did. “I’m Eugene,” he continued. “We were just about to go for tea and scones. Would you care to join us?”
My eyes bugged as I signed, What are you doing?
She seems nice, he replied with a knowing smile. Sometimes, I hated how well my dad could read me. He knew when I liked someone.
Maggie glanced at me and worried her lip before returning her attention to Dad. “Oh, no, I wouldn’t want to intrude.”
“Not at all!” Dad replied. “We’d love the company.”
Her eyes flicked to mine once more, and I softened my gaze, hoping my expression told her she wouldn’t be intruding. I wanted her to join us. I’d missed seeing her on the bus.
“Oh,” Maggie breathed, again glancing at me nervously as she tucked some hair behind her ear. “Well, I was planning on grabbing a bite to eat, so sure. I’ll join you.”
“Fantastic,” Dad exclaimed. “I hope Mary still has some of her raspberry scones left. They always sell out fast.”
Maggie turned and fell into step with us, and it almost felt surreal. I couldn’t believe it was happening. Dad chatted with her all the way to the café, which was just down the street. Her eyes found mine occasionally, and my chest burned every single time. I caught a faint waft of her flowery shampoo, and my fingers itched to touch her. She wore a navy fleece jacket with a cream jumper underneath and jeans. A small bit of mascara painted her lashes and highlighted the vibrant blue of her eyes. My attention wandered to her lips. I couldn’t stop looking at her, and I sensed it was making her self-conscious, so I tried to stop.
When we reached the café and Maggie was busy taking off her jacket, Dad turned to me and signed, How come you never told me about her?
I sent him a confused look. What do you mean? There’s nothing to tell.
You like her. I can see it in the way you look at her.
I barely know her.
Dad smiled. But you want to. I bet you’re glad I invited her for tea.
I was glad, but Dad was looking so pleased with himself I refused to admit it. So, I just shrugged and went to sit at our usual table by the window. Eyes meeting mine as though asking permission, Maggie motioned to the seat next to me. I nodded for her to sit while Dad stood by the counter chatting with the café owner, Mary.
Then everything else faded away when her cool, soft hand touched mine. I stared at it, unable to take my eyes off her delicate fingers. “I’m so sorry for rushing off like I did last week. I don’t know what came over me,” she said in a quiet voice, and I lifted my gaze from her hand.
I stared at her questioningly, wanting to ask why. Why had she rushed off? And where had she been all week? She withdrew her hand and turned to pick up the menu, her brows drawing together as she stared at it. I thought maybe she did it so she didn’t need to explain further why she’d been absent, but then something about her niggled at me. Something I couldn’t quite put my finger on. She seemed strangely nervous as she studied the list of cakes and sandwiches, her shoulders tensing.
Dad appeared then, distracting me from Maggie. “Great news,” he declared. “There are three raspberry scones left, and Mary’s put them aside for us. You do like scones, don’t you, Maggie?”
“What? Oh, yes,” she replied, some kind of relief on her face. “I love scones. I’ll eat anything really.”
I shot Dad a frown and signed, Let her make her own choice.
But the scones are the best thing on the menu, he signed back.
Doesn’t matter. She might prefer something else.
“Um, is everything okay?” Maggie asked, drawing our attention.
“Everything’s fine, love. My son just wanted me to tell you how pretty you look today. Isn’t that right, Shay?”
I swear my answering glare could’ve scorched him alive. You’re an arsehole, I signed.
And you think she looks pretty. Don’t deny it, he signed back.
I glanced at Maggie and found her blushing while she tucked some hair behind her ear. Her eyes flicked to mine as she whispered, “Oh, that’s, um, very kind.”
I wanted to tell her my dad was meddling, but there was no easy way. I didn’t want to pull my phone out again to write a message because that hadn’t gone well the last time. It seemed I was just going to have to let it slide. Besides, I liked how the compliment made her cheeks flush.
Mary appeared with a large pot of tea, three cups and a scone for each of us, as well as plenty of cream and jam. Dad and Maggie thanked her, and then she left. I quietly poured everyone’s tea while Dad asked, “So, have you lived in the area long, Maggie?”
“Yes, I’ve lived in Phibsborough for almost ten years now, and I grew up not too far away in Finglas.”
“Do you live with family?”
She shook her head. “No, I rent a small flat on my own. I have some half-siblings who live in Glasnevin, so I go to visit them when I can. They’re much younger than me.” She motioned to the shopping bag at her feet. “I was actually just shopping for them, grabbing a few things. I’ll go out to see them when we’re finished here.”
“Ah, that’s nice. It’s always good to keep in touch with family.”
Maggie nodded but didn’t reply, shooting me a small look of thanks for pouring her tea. One good thing about my dad was how chatty he was. When he met a new person, he always asked lots of questions, which allowed me to learn things about Maggie I never would’ve learned otherwise.
“And your parents? Are they in Glasnevin, too?”
“No, they’re not, um …” She seemed upset answering the question, and Dad’s voice gentled.
“Oh, they’ve passed? I’m so sorry, love. My Claire passed away a little over eight years ago now.”
His mentioning Mam gave me a small, mournful pang in my gut. I missed my mother a lot. Some days were worse than others, and it often gave me a very specific feeling of sadness when Dad mentioned her. I wondered if Maggie felt the same sadness. She’d lost not one but two parents. That had to be painful and probably lonely, too. Compassion wrapped itself around my heart.
Maggie’s eyes gentled as she gazed at Dad. “My condolences, Eugene,” she said softly.
“Breast cancer,” said Dad. “Horrible illness. I miss her the same today as the first day she left us.”
A second painful pang echoed within me to be reminded of the day my mother died. She’d been the light in our family, the glue that held us together, and with her gone, it wasn’t the same. It never could be, but we forged ahead—or at least we tried to.
When my older brother, Ross, married his wife, Dawn, and they had their kids, Ryan and Shauna, things got a little better. We started to feel like a family again, but it would be so much better if Mam were still around. I knew that.
“What do you do for work?” Dad continued, and my attention returned to the conversation.
“Oh, I clean houses over in Ballsbridge,” Maggie replied, and I soaked in her response. I’d often wondered what she did for a living, and even though being a cleaner might seem mundane to a lot of people, it wasn’t mundane to me. Everything about Maggie was fascinating as far as I was concerned.
“I suppose it’s a lot of rich folks you work for, then?” Dad replied. “I bet that’s interesting.”
Maggie nodded. “Yes, my clients are wealthy, but it’s not that interesting. I’m just there to clean.” She took a sip of tea, then glanced at me, her voice soft when she continued, “What about you, Shay?”
God, I loved the sound of my name on her lips, loved her gentle, silky voice. “Shay works at the Balfe Hotel,” Dad replied for me while my eyes remained locked on her. “He’s a security guard.”
“Ah, yes, I can see that,” Maggie said, her eyes wandering over my shoulders and down my torso before she looked away and took a bite from her scone. She seemed embarrassed suddenly. Had she been … checking me out? I’d imagined it, surely.
Dad chuckled. “Shay’s always been a big lad. Those posh types staying at the hotel quit making trouble quick sharpish when they see him coming. Don’t they, son?”
I nodded, and Maggie’s gaze flicked to me once again. I wanted her to keep looking at me forever, couldn’t get enough of being seen by her. “Do they make a lot of trouble? The hotel guests?” she asked.
Sometimes, I signed, and Dad translated for her, “Sometimes they do, yes.”
“That must be stressful,” she went on, still studying me, eyes searching. She looked at me in a way that made me feel like she could read my mind, and it made me feel electrified somehow.
“Shay’s well able to handle himself. He goes to the gym twice a week with his cousin, Rhys,” Dad put in. “You should see the two of them together, like a pair of those bodyguards that follow the American president around.”
“The Secret Service?” Maggie asked, a hint of a smile tugging at her lips.
“That’s the one. Shay got his height from his mother’s side. A lot of big men in the Doyle family. Us Riordans are the short ones.”
“Is that so?” Maggie said, her smile growing as she took another sip of tea. I was glad my father was such a charming fellow. Women always warmed to him. But even after my mother passed away, he was never interested in anyone else. He’d said that part of his life was over, but often, I wondered if he were lonely. If he longed for companionship but avoided bringing anyone new into his life for fear of losing them like he lost Mam.
Too soon, we finished our tea, and I wished to prolong it by getting Dad to order more food, but I knew that would come across too eager. With disappointment, I watched as Maggie took the final bite of her scone, then dabbed her lips with a napkin. She buttoned up her fleece, clearly getting ready to leave.
“I better get going,” she said. “I need to catch the bus to visit my brothers and sisters. Thank you so much for inviting me for tea. I had a lovely time.” Her gaze went from me to Dad, then back to me. I smiled at her and watched her cheeks redden slightly.
“The pleasure was all ours,” Dad replied. “By the way, Maggie, if you’re not busy tomorrow you should drop over to our house for dinner. I make a roast every Sunday, and you’re more than welcome to join us.”
Maggie appeared surprised. Then she looked at me, as though trying to decipher if I condoned the invite, which of course, I did. Any excuse to spend more time with her. Some people might’ve hated the idea of having their parent invite a beautiful woman for dinner at their house right off the bat. In fact, I was certain most would prefer to get to know someone in a more public setting, like a bar or a restaurant. But I wasn’t most people. Being mute made a lot of public settings a minefield for me. So, to be able to get to know Maggie in my home, the place I was most comfortable, was far preferable to anything else. I wouldn’t have to worry about all the ways things could go wrong. I could just relax.
I nodded at her, and she flushed again. Over her shoulder, Dad shot me a wink. He was playing matchmaker, though I could hardly be mad at him for it.
“I’m not sure. I’ll have to see,” she replied shyly.
“Well, the address is number 10 Adam’s Row if you do decide to come. Shay, why don’t you walk Maggie to the bus stop? I want to have a chat with Mary before we go.”
Okay, so maybe Dad was getting a little too comfortable meddling. I glanced at Maggie, sending her a questioning look. To my surprise, she nodded. “That would be nice.”
Dad smiled happily before heading over to chat with Mary, leaving us alone. Maggie was digging in her bag, pulling out some cash, clearly intending to pay for herself. Because I couldn’t tell her it was on me, I reached out and touched her hand. She sucked in a breath, her eyelashes fluttering at the contact. I gently shook my head, then patted my chest to let her know I was paying.
“No, you don’t have to. I’m happy to pay,” she said, flustered, but I just held her gaze, not backing down.
“Oh, all right,” she finally allowed. “But next time, I’m buying.”
I smiled then because that meant she wanted to see me again. I hoped she planned to come for dinner tomorrow. The idea of her meeting my family, being in my house, appealed to me in a way I didn’t entirely understand. Inviting someone to your family home was something people did after weeks of dating or even months. Not that we were dating. Still, a part of me was eager to skip forward to a time where she knew my family and was comfortable coming to see me at my house.
She seemed to realise the meaning in what she just said and flushed further. I wanted to kiss her at that moment so badly because, although we didn’t know each other very well at all, I’d spent over half a year watching her. I felt like I knew her, and because I couldn’t use words to express how I felt, the instinct to touch her was stronger than normal.
I left some cash on the table, then motioned for her to lead the way. We left the café and headed in the direction of the nearest bus stop. A few moments of quiet passed before she said, “Your dad is a very nice man. You live with him?”
I met her gaze and nodded.
“Is it just the two of you?” she asked, and I nodded again.
“It must be nice,” she went on, almost to herself. “To have someone around.”
I remembered her telling dad she rented a flat on her own. I’d never lived alone, so I had no idea what that was like. We reached the bus stop, and the monitor said it was four minutes until the next one arrived. Only four minutes left with her. It wasn’t enough time.
She sat on the bench, and I followed suit, leaving a small gap between us.
I wanted to ask if she was going to come to dinner tomorrow, my fingers edging towards the phone in my pocket. I’d thought typing out the message was what made her flee on Friday, but maybe it was something else. Maybe she’d remembered she left something plugged in at home and had to rush back to make sure her flat hadn’t burned to the ground. Well, there was only one way to test the theory.
I pulled out my phone and began typing. Her attention was on the road, so she didn’t see what I was doing until I tapped her shoulder, and she turned. I held out my phone. On the screen it read, Will you come to dinner tomorrow?
Her eyes widened, her face turning pale, and my gut sank. My initial instinct had been right. For some reason, she appeared almost frightened to read my message. I didn’t understand, watching her throat move as she swallowed, then hesitantly she reached out to take the phone. She held it in her small, delicate hands, her brow scrunching as she stared at the screen.
She didn’t say anything for a long moment, and I honestly felt like I was missing something until it finally dawned on me. The memory of her sitting in Mary’s café, her brows scrunched as she stared at the menu, then her relief when Dad appeared and announced he’d ordered for her.
She couldn’t read.
No, that wasn’t it, I realised as I watched her study the screen. It wasn’t that she couldn’t read because she was clearly trying to, but she definitely had some kind of difficulty with it.
I was such a fucking idiot sometimes. Why hadn’t I realised sooner?
It was obvious now as I watched her try to decipher what I’d written, and something burned at my chest. I hated myself at that moment because she was trying to concentrate so hard, and her face was red like she was incredibly embarrassed.
At long last, she looked up and said, “You want to know if I’m coming to dinner?”
I bobbed my head, my expression apologetic. Her expression fell when she realised I knew she had trouble reading. I hated myself even more when shame clouded her face. She handed the phone back to me and wouldn’t meet my gaze. Again, her throat moved as she swallowed thickly.
“I’m sorry, I don’t think I can,” she whispered, then stood and held her hand out for the approaching bus. “Goodbye, Shay,” she said, still not looking at me as she turned away and climbed on the bus.
I remained sitting there as it drove away.