7. Amy
Amy
The sleek black car purrs under Kerry’s guiding hand.
It still boggles my brain that I’m in what would be the driver’s seat of an American car.
The first few minutes of driving, I flinched every time a car drove past. My brain thought we were going to have a head-on collision since we’re driving on the wrong side of the road, at least according to what I’m used to.
I don’t think Kerry noticed for a bit, but once I heard a soft, rumbling chuckle, I knew I’d been found out.
I can’t believe this is happening. I’ve never been outside of New York before, much less in another country.
The only reason I even have a passport is because my grandfather insisted on all of our family having one ready to go at all times.
It’s one of those things you don’t give much consideration to when you’re a kid.
I really thought that sort of thing was normal.
Looking back and now knowing about my grandfather’s business, it makes sense.
But now I’m in Ireland. A fact that’s both exciting and a little daunting.
Kerry’s quiet. It’s as if the return to his homeland has brought forth ghosts in his mind, all of which have something to say. Maybe his thoughts have returned to business now that he’s gotten what he needed from the States.
There’s something about being in Ireland with him, where he’s familiar and I’m not, that’s jarring.
I’m off kilter, still in shock and shaken from the week I’ve had, and now I’m in another country.
I’m self-aware enough to know that these thoughts aren’t fully my own.
I’ve had a rough week, including having a meltdown, and I’m exhausted.
My thoughts are always a little tumultuous when overstimulated.
What does Kerry expect of me now that we’re here?
What would my life look like? I don’t know.
He’d never brought any of that up. And like the fool I am, I never asked.
Maybe because I wasn’t sure if that was socially acceptable or not.
Or maybe because it never occurred to me to ask with everything happening back-to-back.
I’m exhausted. I slept a little on the plane, but not that well.
I felt safe enough in Kerry’s arms, and I trust Liam and Jack, too, but it’s really hard for me to calm down in an unfamiliar environment like that.
I didn’t know what to expect, I didn’t know how long the flight would be, and that kept me from any sort of real rest.
The car suddenly feels claustrophobic. I glance over at Kerry.
He hasn’t said anything since he instructed Jack and Liam to go in a separate car with all of our luggage.
He’s given no indication that he’s upset with me, but my old habit of frantically scanning the environment for turbulent emotions still has me in its grip.
It feels like the first act of rebellion I’ve allowed myself is to choose to trust my intuition here. To trust him.
What a hell of a way to break into that radical act of self-confidence. Not just throwing myself into the deep end, but into a boiling vat of deep water, hoping I can swim and tolerate the heat.
I’m brought out of my thoughts when I feel a hand on my thigh.
I glance over at Kerry, who still wears that serious expression, but this time there’s a gentle adoration in his eyes, too.
“It’ll be all right, leannán. We’re in this together, you aren’t alone.
I know this is new and frightening for you, but this is my home. I’ll make sure it welcomes you warmly.”
I bite my lip as I think over his words and how it relates to my feelings.
“I guess I’m feeling a bit silly for trusting a dangerous man that I’ve only known for a short amount of time over my own family.
” The words blurt out of me before I can even think twice about them, another sign I’m probably overstimulated.
We’ve already dealt with this topic, but my exhaustion is feeding into the problem anew.
Kerry’s hand tightens on my thigh, but his gaze shows the softness of understanding that my grandparents would’ve believed him incapable of.
Ironic, considering that they never seemed to even bother trying to understand me, or anyone, for that matter.
“I understand, leannán. It’s a testament to how much you resent your grandparents’ poor treatment of you that you’ve chosen to trust me.
But I like to think I deserve credit, too, for showing you that I’m trustworthy. ”
“I think you do deserve that much,” I say softly. I turn in my seat slightly to look at him. “No one’s ever treated me like you have.” Which is why I’m so suspicious of it.
Kerry’s brows pinch slightly together as he considers my words, his eyes not leaving the road. “I know you haven’t been treated right, leannán. But what do you mean in particular?”
I sigh and lean my head back against the headrest, feeling the smooth leather beneath me.
“Somehow you manage to take care of me without making me feel like a child or like you’re patronizing me.
You notice when I’m going nonverbal and handle the conversation—like in the restaurant with my grandparents—but you never speak over me, and you’ve handled when I’ve corrected you with complete understanding and a willingness to learn.
My friends are either uncomfortable with my diagnosis or they’re also autistic.
My family is still in denial about it. They resent the fact that they might have to learn anything new and accommodate me. ”
The deep, resounding sigh that leaves Kerry’s lips is a testament to his disdain for my family.
I know it is. But part of me still feels like they’re a reflection of me and that he’s disappointed in me, even as my logical brain knows that makes little sense.
He saved me from them for a reason. If the Irish Demon didn’t want me around, then he wouldn’t be doing any of this.
He would’ve sent me back to my grandparents without batting an eye.
“People rarely like being held accountable for their lack of thoughtfulness. Your diagnosis simply holds up a mirror to that. Anyone who is already being considerate of you wouldn’t be bothered by a further clarification of what you need from them.
” His low, rumbling tone seems to fill the interior of the car, somehow making the rumble of the engine and the noisy streets outside muffled in comparison, despite the fact that he’s not speaking loudly.
“I like having the direction to know how to care for you. It’s simply guidance to what I was planning on doing already.
It never feels like you’re trying to manipulate me.
Anyone who feels like it’s a list of demands never intended to be thoughtful of you in the first place.
Being given direction on something they’re sorely lacking in probably makes them feel guilty.
Especially when it comes to your family, when they know they’re supposed to be the most considerate and attentive to you. ”
Kerry’s words stick out with a force of such clarity that my thoughts come to a screeching halt.
It’s like having really blurry vision your whole life and then suddenly getting glasses.
Reviewing my life and relationships through the lens of his insight makes everything look sharper, more pronounced.
"I never thought about it like that before.” My voice is quiet, and I rub my arm in a soothing motion. Seeing my whole life flash before me in the context of neglect is jarring.
His thumb rubs little circles on the outside of my knee.
“I know.” His voice matches mine in volume.
It’s deep and rough, but oh so quiet, like he thought I’d be startled by anything louder.
Or maybe that he’d be startled by it. Like the premise of what he said was loud enough on its own to make our ears ring.
We’re quiet for the rest of the way to his home.
I’m lost in my thoughts, watching the city thin out as we leave the heart of Dublin.
We arrive at beautiful wrought iron gates, which Kerry stops at.
He rolls down his window to press a code into a keypad, and the gates swing open.
I’m struck by the parallels of the last time I was driven out of a city.
I’d been so frightened with my grandfather.
I was expected to be silent unless spoken to, my bodily needs unmet, and we went to a run-down place where horrors took place.
But this? This is so different that it didn’t even occur to me to be worried.
Kerry always prioritizes me, he never makes me feel like a piece of trash he has to drag around.
Everything about him reeks of luxury and wealth, nothing cheap like my grandfather gravitates towards, despite being so rich.
Kerry is calm and collected, whereas my grandfather always has this wrathful energy brewing underneath the surface, like he’s always on the brink of being angry.
As we drive down the curving driveway, surrounded by lush grass and curated gardens, I register that this is far from a run-down diner.
It’s quite literally a world away from it.
I don’t know what Kerry has in store for me, but I know that, one way or another, this is a new chapter. A new beginning. My decision to trust Kerry, to come here with him, will have lasting consequences and send me on a new path entirely.
I don’t know if it’ll be a good one or not yet. But I’m hopeful.