Chapter Twenty-Five
The next three days blend into each other.
Mum and I go to the hospital. We hold Dad’s hand and talk about what we’ve done that day.
We watch the news: more riots across the country.
African families run out of their homes just a few kilometres from here.
Over thirty people arrested. Huge anti-racism demos take place while white politicians debate racism and ‘legitimate concerns’.
We turn off the news. We comfort each other.
Dad is now in a medically induced coma. They’re doing tests to determine if he’s suffered any brain damage.
Inconclusive.
Nanny Bet sits stiffly in the hard plastic chairs in the waiting room and refuses any offer of help from Mum or the nurses.
I still struggle to speak to her.
Meg has tried reaching out, but I’m too pissed to reply to her messages, and still a bit freaked out. She can play at witchcraft on her own. Though part of me wishes I could tell her about Paul.
We’ve seen each other a lot since that kiss. It’s kind of amazing and kind of scary. I can’t get him out of my head. We’re spending so much time together, talking and…doing other things. Like, he seems to want to be with me.
As a secret.
But he’s new to this and he deserves time. Plus, I’m having fun, and even if I’m obsessing a bit, it’s helping distract me from the visions.
Which are everywhere.
I see flashes of light on the streets, shining out of houses as we drive through the city. Entire wards in the hospital flare up as I walk the corridors. I ignore them all: the lights, the whispering voices from radios, the crows that surround our home and tap on the bedroom window as I lie in bed.
My head throbs constantly.
I’m exhausted from sleepless nights punctuated by dreams of screaming women, dead babies and bloodied limbs.
‘You OK?’ Paul is lying beside me on his bed. His top is off and he’s running a finger through the dark hair on his chest.
‘Sort of.’
He smiles. A kind smile. He pulls me towards him
I move away. ‘I should get back for dinner.’
‘No, stay with me.’
‘OK, but just for ten minutes.’
A growl of victory from Paul and he pulls me close. I sigh into his arms.
I’ve seen him every day since ‘movie night’.
If I’m not at the hospital or home, I’m here.
We hang out alone mostly, but if we’re with Cormac we have hurried kisses when he’s not in the room.
It’s stupid and exciting. And while part of me knows it’s a huge mistake and can only end in a bad way, I don’t care.
When we’re together I feel like…Well, I feel something other than sad and frightened.
‘When are your parents back?’ I ask as I come up for air.
‘Three days. Plenty of time for fun.’ He grins and I kiss him.
A slicing headache signals a vision and I’m aware of a change of light outside, but I refuse to acknowledge it. I must be frowning. Paul strokes my cheek. ‘What’s up?’
‘Nothing.’
We kiss again. The headache intensifies and I close my eyes as the light spills into Paul’s bedroom. I try to lose myself in his arms and the heat of him, but the pain is too much. I pull away, swearing under my breath.
‘Did I do something?’ Paul sits up on his bed.
My head is throbbing as I pick up my things. ‘No. I should get home.’
He shrugs. ‘No worries.’
‘See you later?’
‘Sure, maybe. Might have plans though.’
My stomach knots. I stop tying my laces. ‘Oh?’
‘Yeah.’
I want so badly not to care, but the headache is like a needle in the back of my head. ‘Who with?’ He says nothing and opens a message on his phone. The light outside pulses. ‘Is it Ellen?’
‘It’s Ellen.’
I squeeze my eyes shut.
His hand is on my arm. ‘We’re not together.’
A pain serrates the back of my head. ‘Are you talking about Ellen or me?’
He lifts his hand. ‘Well, neither. Me and you aren’t—’
‘Yeah, I’m well aware of that.’
I wait for him to say something, anything. He plays with the corner of his duvet.
‘Fuck this.’ I get up to go.
‘Sorry.’
The word stops me.
‘What for?’
‘I should’ve said about Ellen. She wants to talk and I don’t know how to say no.’
Leave!
He smiles. ‘Forgive me?’
Say no.
A crow screeches outside the window.
‘Yeah, sure. I get it.’ I run a hand through my hair.
‘If this is too much, we don’t have to…’
‘No, I don’t want to stop.’
‘But you know I can’t, like…this can’t be more? Not yet.’
The twist in the stomach is familiar, but no less painful. ‘Yeah, I know that. It’s just a bit of fun.’
He flinches. ‘That’s not fair. It’s more than that, but I’m just not ready.’
‘Yeah, Paul. I know.’
‘Promise you’ll say if you want to stop.’
‘I promise.’
‘Sweet.’ He comes over and gives me a hug. ‘I’m only meeting Ellen for a drink. We can meet after?’
I push down the ache in my stomach. ‘Sure.’
We kiss and I leave, ignoring what I know to be true. This is stupid, it’s causing me pain and I need to stop.
But I’m not sure I can.
I glance at Meg’s latest message as I leave Paul’s house.
I know what’s happening with the
M. It’s serious. Stop ignoring me
I do ignore her and head home for dinner.
It’s hard to concentrate on anything other than the tension and sadness round the table. Mum has dark rings under her eyes and she’s picking at her food. Sheila and Tommy look exhausted, but they’ve got sad, pitying smiles constantly plastered on their faces.
Even Cormac is quiet. I’ve been avoiding talking to him too so I don’t have to lie about Paul. I’m carrying so many lies.
There’s not a single person I can be honest with. I can’t stand it.
Almost as much as I can’t stand the piercing light from the street as I force some stew into my mouth.
The visions are so strong here. I don’t have to see out the window to know that ‘young’ Brigid is outside. She’s always there. Always angry at the ghostly soldiers raiding the house next door. The vision feels like it’s on a loop.
The crows never stop shrieking.
‘Those birds are doing my nut in,’ Tommy says, rubbing his temple.
I swallow at a lump in my throat.
Mum places a hand on mine ‘OK, love?’
Everyone is looking at me. ‘Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry, not feeling very hungry. Can I eat this later, Sheila?’
‘Of course, son. Tommy get a Tupperware, would ya?’
Tommy goes to open his mouth then softens. ‘Leave it there, Michael. I’ll put it away for you.’
Emotionally available Tommy seems to require a lot of effort on his part.
I know I should be more appreciative, but it’s just another lie.
Nobody is being truthful about how they feel.
They’re treating me like I can’t handle what is going on with Dad, like I can’t handle anything.
I hate being poor little sensitive Michael.
I reject a call from Meg and excuse myself. I go upstairs and lock the bathroom door. Huddled black shapes on the windowsill outside rustle their feathers and one leans forward to scrape its hooked beak down the glass.
I turn on the tap, take a towel from the hot press and scream into it.
I’m walking to the hospital the next day when Cormac calls. I let it ring out, but he dials again.
‘Hello?’
‘Cuz, what’s up?’
‘Heading to see Dad. You?
‘Oh, nothing, heading to work. Just seeing if you want to hang out later?’
My neck sweats. ‘Oh, I kinda have plans.’
The line is quiet for a second. ‘With Paul?’
Fuck.
‘Yeah, we’re just going to watch a film or something.’
‘Oh, OK.’
A high-pitched screech in the background makes me wince and I pull the phone away from my ear for a moment. ‘What was that? Sorry, would you like to join us or…’
Another screech. ‘No, no,’ says Cormac. ‘I’ll leave you two to it.’
‘Sorry, you should come and—’
‘I said it’s cool, man. Wouldn’t want to get in the way.’
I switch the phone to my other hand. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ I hear the hardness in my voice.
‘Nothing,’ he says, the noise in the background making him shout. ‘Why are you getting so defensive?’
I can’t deal with this right now. ‘If you want to say something, just fucking say it, Cormac.’
He swears under his breath. ‘Mate, you need to chill. Like I know you’re going through a lot but—’
‘Oh, just leave it. I have to go see my dad.’
‘OK, Jesus. OK. I was just—’
The line crackles and there’s another screech. ‘What the…?’
I stop. ‘What’s happening. Cormac?’
The line thuds as he walks. ‘Nothing, it’s just these fucking crows. I swear there’s like a hundred on the street here. Anyway, just do whatever you want with Paul.’
I freeze. My eye catches a movement on a lamppost above me. A crow’s eyes narrow on mine.
I grip the phone. ‘Cormac, go home.’
‘What?’ He laughs nervously.
The crow stretches its wings, eclipsing the sun. Blocking the light.
‘Cormac. I’m sorry, just trust me. Run home, now. I’m coming to talk to you.’
His breathing is heavy. ‘Michael, stop freaking out. We’re good.’
‘Run!’
The screeching down the line is sharp. Metal on metal. ‘Fuck’s sake, OK, I’ll head back now. Can you tell me—’
The crow above me screams and the pain is blinding.
‘Just get home!’
‘OK,’ says Cormac. His footsteps echo down the line as he starts to run. ‘I won’t be long. See you…Oh fuck.’
There’s what sounds like a screech of tyres on the line. ‘Cormac?’
A loud crack echoes above the screams of crows. No, not crows. A car horn.
Someone shouts as a car door slams.
‘Cormac! Cormac, are you there?’
The line goes dead.
‘Cormac!’
I run.