18. Amy
Amy
Iclose my eyes and let birdsong fill my ears.
I’m relaxing in a cute little concrete pad with flowers and bushes arranged about it in Kerry’s garden, and I’m thoroughly enjoying the privacy it brings.
I think Kerry’s guards usually use it as a hang-out spot, but they stopped once the wedding preparations started, as we decided this is where we’ll host the wedding reception.
I haven’t gotten a moment alone this past month.
Not just because of Kerry, but because there’s so many contractors coming in and out of this house.
It’s been impossible to have any quiet, which is especially important for an autistic person.
Soaking in this rare instance of peace and sunshine feels like a miracle, especially since the sun seldom shows itself here in Ireland.
It’s all been a bit…much. A lot to think about.
My family took a month to settle on an “exchange date” to get me back.
God, if Kerry had treated me as badly as they believed, then who knows what could’ve happened to me in that time.
But nothing about their behavior seemed hurried.
Instead, Kerry informed me my grandfather’s been ‘causing trouble’.
He didn’t seem to want to elaborate, and I didn’t ask.
That’s what they care about. Making more money, improving their mafia business. Not me.
Obviously, the ‘exchange’ for me fell through.
Kerry went on a whole rant about them actually falling for it, and, as he put it, there’s no fecking way I’m giving you back, I’d rather peel off my own skin.
I thought that was a tad gruesome, but hey, this is Kerry we’re talking about.
When the exchange failed, they went silent.
Kerry said his men felt “birds pecking at their wires”—which I learned is not Irish slang for once but mafia talk that meant my grandfather tried seeking information on where we were.
Kerry let enough information slip for them to know I was alive, safe, and that we’re still getting married. Something about him feeling “bad for your mam”, which I can’t really argue with. I know my mother must be really stressed out about the whole ordeal.
I should be more upset that my family isn’t going to be at my wedding.
But I’m…not. There’s a part of me that’s relieved, which makes me feel guilty.
The only one I feel remotely bad for is my mother, but the thought of her trying to influence my choices and control the whole event sounds like a nightmare.
She’d be the opposite of Aunt Marjorie, who only seems to supply actually helpful advice, and lets me ultimately make each decision for myself.
Everything she says feels like it's in an effort to get to the bottom of what I want, not to influence me to choose what she wants.
I never knew there was so much to think about in a wedding. I’m sure I would’ve had way more meltdowns if it wasn’t for Marjorie.
The texts started pouring in once my family found out that we were getting married and I was safely within Kerry’s domain, mostly from my mother at first. Then my father. Then my grandmother. I even got a couple of texts from my grandfather, and I didn’t even have his phone number saved.
They started out sweet. Subtle. My mother expressing her concern for me, asking about the wedding, things like that.
I hesitated on answering, but Kerry let me decide what to do.
He said that he’d protect me and stand by me no matter what, so I ended up answering after a few days. Told her I was okay, I was happy.
She didn’t believe me. Shocker.
Then they raised the pressure. They talked about me coming home, of everyone reuniting and us all being a family again.
They tempted me with everything I ever craved back before I met Kerry.
Family vacations. Eating dinner together.
My parents were considering getting remarried.
Each text started to make me feel sick. It’s like they’ve known all along what I wanted, but only made me think that it wasn’t an option just because they didn’t want to bother.
When that didn’t work, the shaming came.
My grandmother talked about how a proper lady acts, and my behavior wasn’t it.
Abandoning her family, spreading her legs for some unknown foreign man, as if they weren’t the ones who arranged my marriage with him in the first place.
My grandfather threatened to come find me and drag me back where I belong.
Which was a bit ironic, because I never felt like I fit in with them.
But with Kerry? He acts like I’m just an extension of him, another one of his limbs that’s always meant to be there.
It’s strange, considering how out of place I felt with the whole arrangement originally. I was terrified of interacting with him. But now? It couldn’t feel more…natural. At ease. And I know this is where I’m meant to be.
Which made one of my mom’s last texts to me all the more painful.
I was okay with your marriage to this man before he started a war with your grandfather, but now choosing him? That’s a betrayal, Amy. I never knew you were capable of this. After everything we’ve done for you? After all the money your grandparents poured into you? You’re being ungrateful.
Betrayal. Such a strong word. Ungrateful, somehow an even stronger one, at least to me.
Ungrateful? I’ve never chosen myself. I only did so now because they made me feel unsafe and uncared for.
Because I finally got a way out. Telling me that feels like a slap in the face when they’ve done so much to neglect and hurt me.
But it’s more than that. My mother said she was okay with the marriage arrangement before.
But she totally freaked out when I called her about it, so why would she say that?
Which was true? Was she lying when she expressed her deep displeasure at the arrangement before?
Or was she lying now by saying she had been okay with it?
I have been trying to take time to think.
That’s all I’ve been doing the past two days since I got the text: thinking.
In between meetings with florists and bakers, I finally realized something.
I called my mother, who freaked out about the whole marriage thing over the phone, and then I didn’t hear anything.
Which is, frankly, so unlike my very nosey and clingy mother that I should’ve known something was up.
But I was so consumed with everything that was happening around me, shaken, traumatized, and overstimulated, that I didn’t have any energy to process the lack of something.
Just like I hadn’t noticed Lily’s lack of response immediately.
Yesterday, I finally messaged her back.
You knew about the marriage and were okay with it?
She took all day to respond. When she finally did, I was shaken to my core.
Well, yes. I’ve known for years that this would probably happen, you are a mafia leader’s granddaughter.
I wasn’t sure if your grandfather would actually want to go through with it, as he’s never quite trusted us, but I wasn’t surprised when he did.
They told your father and I that it would happen when you went to visit them next.
I was floored. It felt so backwards to everything I thought my mother to be.
She hated my grandparents, right? She hadn’t talked to them since she divorced my dad.
Turns out they’re quite chatty. She knew about the whole arranged marriage thing but never prepared me?
I mean, they never even bothered to outright tell me that my grandfather was a mafia leader. I had to figure it out for myself.
Why didn’t you tell me? And why did you freak out when I told you about the marriage, then?
I remember my hands were shaking when I typed that. I held my breath when I sent it. She didn’t wait to reply and lay another blow on me.
It was best if you didn’t know. I didn’t want to scare you. And…well, we decided it might be best if I did a bit of acting so that you were comforted and did as you were told.
Comforted. She wouldn’t know how to comfort me if she was given a handbook on it, that much is clear to me now.
But, it’s more than that. It’s like…I’m only deserving of comfort if it gets me to behave. As if that’s what’s really important, not me, not my feelings.
I didn’t know how to reply to that, so I didn’t.
More texts came through, my mother begging me to tell me where I am, to come home, to stop with this rebellious behavior.
I wanted to chuck my phone out the window, but I decided not to just in case Lily arranged a call with me. Instead, I just blocked them all.
That might’ve been an impulsive move, but it’s what I needed, at least for now. I can always unblock them later, but I couldn’t bear the barrage of texting anymore. Not when I feel this raw.
Tears blur my vision as I look down at the crochet hook and yarn in my hands.
Kerry asked if there was anything he could do to help, and I decided to lean on my old hobby of making cute little crocheted pets again.
Within the hour of me asking for them, he had dozens of different yarns and hooks to choose from.
I’m pretty sure Jack and Liam raided a whole craft store.
They completely redecorated one of the guest rooms to be my hobby room, with tons of storage and different places to sit and make stuff.
Mind you, this all happened in the span of like…twenty-four hours. Kerry wouldn’t have it any other way than right now. I think it’s been hard for him, watching me suffer and being unable to fix it. I can’t help but smile a bit at the thought of how sweet he is, how he always goes over and above.
I haven’t told him about my mother’s latest texts and the revelation that my parents knew all along. I just wanted to think about it for a bit. I needed time to process it without having to confess the truth that I’ve come to realize: my family has put in very little effort to care for me.