16. Cillian #3
He considers this, face scrunching up. “What kind of business?”
“You ask a lot of questions,” I tell him, which makes him smile.
“Do you like New York?”
“I do.”
“We don’t have anything like this in Belfast,” he says, gesturing at the general concept of New York, the skyline visible over the park fence. “Everything is bigger here.”
Claire laughs softly while I study Finn. “Is that good or bad?”
He thinks about it. “Both, maybe.”
I nod. “Yeah. Both is probably right.”
He asks me if I have brothers or sisters.
He asks me if I grew up here. He asks me if I knew his mum before, like, properly, and something about the way he asks that puts me on edge.
It almost sounds…coached? I tell him yes, I knew his mother briefly, with an emphasis on briefly. He nods like he’s writing something down in his head.
Some of the questions are his. The football, the New York question, whether I like chocolate cake or vanilla cake.
Some of them aren’t; those he glances at Claire after a few of them, thinking I won’t catch them.
I do catch them, but I say nothing.
He goes back to the swings after a while and it’s me and Claire on the bench again.
She watches him for a moment before she turns to me.
“He really likes you,” she says warmly.
I shift uncomfortably on the bench. “He doesn’t know me yet,” I remind her.
“No. But he likes what he’s seen.” She smiles warmly at me. “He’s going to want to know you more. I can already tell.”
I look at Finn on the swings. He’s going high again, his tongue poking out of his lips as he tries to swing as high as possible.
“I hope your wife is feeling better,” Claire says, conversationally, like she’s thinking of something else entirely. “She seemed really upset yesterday.”
I look at her sharply, stiffening.
Either Claire can’t see that I’m not happy with where this conversation is leading or she doesn’t care.
“I told her what I told you,” she continues, “that you were just trying to protect her, that you needed time to figure out the situation before you worried her.” She shakes her head slightly, as if puzzled.
“I don’t think she heard it that way. I tried, but—” She pauses and tilts her head, sighing in sympathy.
“Pregnant women can be so emotional though, can’t they?
It’s all the hormones. I’m sure she’ll come around once she’s had some time to process. ”
On the surface, Claire’s words sound fine.
They sound concerned and kind.
But there’s something lurking beneath the surface and it’s making my instincts scream.
Claire looks at me with sympathetic, warm eyes, but her words are echoing in my head.
Pregnant women can be so emotional.
Claire is still talking. “I hope I didn’t cause too much trouble in your marriage. That was never my intention. I just—” She looks at her hands, as if embarrassed. “I had to do what was right for Finn. You understand, right?” She looks at me earnestly.
“Of course.”
“And you know, staying here longer than I planned is getting complicated. New York is so much more expensive than I expected.” She glances at me, just briefly. “Everything costs twice what it does at home. Hotels, food—” A small exhale. “It’s a lot, doing it all alone.”
I look at Finn on the swings again.
This is the third time I’ve listened to Claire Murphy describe how hard it is to manage financially.
At first I thought it was just her mentioning how expensive life is in general.
I mean, don’t most people not born into wealth?
It’s one of the first things people say after how’s it going and how’s the weather?
It’s goddamn everything is so fucking expensive.
But something doesn’t feel right about this. I think back to Finn’s questions that seemed a bit…much for an eight year old. Come to think of it, how did Claire track me down with only a first name? I never told her my last name.
I was careful not to.
I know the hotel wouldn’t have said anything because they’re known for their discretion.
Have I been reading this wrong? Have I let my guilt and my shock and my complicated feelings about a child who might be mine cloud my judgment? Have I been too overwhelmed and too focused on the wrong thing?
“I have to get going,” I say, standing up.
Claire startles before her lips purse and her eyes narrow. She’s displeased, but she quickly smooths it away. “Oh—of course. I know you’re busy. I just—” She glances at Finn and back at me. “When do you think we could do this again? Finn really does want to—”
“I’ll be in touch,” I tell her impatiently. “Before the test.”
I walk away from her before she can say anything else. Finn sees me leaving and jumps off the swings. He walks over to me, peering up at my face.
“It was good to talk to you,” I tell him. “About football.”
Finn smiles, showing off a missing tooth. “Maybe next time we can play?” he asks hopefully.
I make a noncommittal answer before I leave the park, feeling Claire’s stare boring into the back of my head. I hail another cab.
Something doesn’t feel right. I just don’t know what.