Chapter 31 An Experiment in Poking the BearAn Experiment in NOT Getting Poked
“Okay, I’m not one hundred percent sure of the dynamics of a composting toilet, but I think I’m going to change my clothes in here.”
There wasn’t much room, but there was a bit of space on either side of the bed.
I definitely didn’t want to change into my fluffy Princess Donut pajamas in front of Tadhg, but I also didn’t like the idea of changing in what I imagined was an ice-cold glorified portapotty.
How would I keep everything from touching the toilet? No. I refused to find out.
Just as I was eyeballing the ceiling and carefully considering the logistics of hanging a curtain down the middle of the tent, there was an explosion! My heart followed suit and exploded in tandem. “What the fucks?”
Tadhg was standing there, closer than I realized, looking very serious, or as serious as one can look when they’re hunched over because they don’t fit under a yurt roof and are trying very hard to avoid hitting their face on a Moroccan lantern.
He was holding the bottle of champagne at his waist, cork in the other hand, and its foamy contents were gushing out onto the rug.
It was the most over-the-top unintentionally erotic thing I’ve ever seen in my life.
Worse even than sports announcers talking about tight ends, gobblers, and big holes.
“Oh!” was all I could say. Because what I wanted to say was something about making him foam his pants. But then I remembered the protocol.
“This is the one and only good thing to have come from all of this mess my stupid father made, and the two of us are going to fucking drink it.” He stretched an arm over the bed and shoved the bottle at me.
“Are there no glasses?”
“They were outside by the bottle, but I found a slug in one and bird shit in the other.”
I nodded and lifted the heavy thing up to swig. Bubbles that might have been dainty, if poured into a glass, exploded into my mouth, and I scrunched my face up. “Mmm.” I swallowed. “Nice, actually. Perfectly chilled.”
“That’s because this place is a goddamn refrigerator.”
I passed the bottle back, and he took a long swig as I watched all too closely his throat bob in the fake candlelight.
“You’re right. It’s freezing in here. Okay, can you please turn around so I can put my pajamas on?
” I shrugged. “They’re fuzzy and synthetic, so they’re warm as hell.
Probably also a massive fire hazard, so thank God for the fake candles. ”
“Sure.” He handed the bottle back.
“Then I’ll turn around so you can get changed.”
“I don’t have pajamas.”
I spat a little champagne down my front.
I checked over my shoulder, but his back was turned, so he hadn’t seen me dribble on myself. Thank you, universe. I owe you one!
“Ah. Of course you don’t. That’s . . . just fine.
” Does he sleep naked? “You can wear . . .” Is he going to sleep NAKED?
My face burned as I wriggled quickly into my decidedly unsexy pajamas.
“I mean, don’t worry. I’m cool. Whatever.
” Flustered! FLUSTERED! You’re losing it!
“It’s not like I’m gonna reach over and .
. .” You idiot! Do not finish that sentence!
“Hey, maybe you should be a little nicer to your dad.” Whew!
Safe topic. Okay. Calm down. Make it normal.
“Like, at first I thought you were just a complete and total asshole to everyone.” I laughed, realizing that he hadn’t responded, feeling the pinch of awkwardness start to return in the silence.
“But now that I’m getting to know you a little better, I think you’re probably only about sixty-six percent asshole. ” It was true—I had run the figures.
I finished buttoning up the rhinestone buttons on my pajama top. “I mean, I love your dad, and you should totally—”
When I turned around, my jaw dropped. He was radiating such pure, unfettered anger that I could feel the heat of it zapping me from across the bed we were about to share.
“No. Don’t stop now.” He sounded as if he’d like to choke me.
“Go ahead, Maya. Please continue to tell me how I should speak to my own father.” He stood at the edge of the bed, looked down at me, and drank a swig of champagne violently, which I did not know, until that moment, was a thing that it was possible to do.
“Well, I . . .” I blinked. “You know what? Maybe this isn’t the best time.”
“Oh, it’s absolutely the best time for you to put your nose into my business. Because this is exactly what I need to end this perfect day with. Maybe afterward I’ll go take a cold plunge in the composting toilet, just to really round it off.”
“All right. I hear you. You’re right.” I stopped. It was a good time to stop. It was a good time to close my mouth and shut the hell entirely up. Forever. “It’s just that your dad is such a sweet man. He’s like a little sugar-lump person. It just seems like—”
“My dad? You want to talk about my dad?” He scoffed. “You only just met the man a few days ago, and now you’re going to tell me all about him, are you?”
“But I’ve never heard you say a nice word to him ever. Or even just a calm, regular, venom-free word. He’s so tenderhearted. I know he must feel it. I have a really close relationship with my dad. I guess I can’t help but want the same for you two.”
“So you think I’m an arsehole for no reason? There couldn’t possibly be any reason at all that I might have to be angry with him?”
I crossed my arms and rubbed my hands against my sleeves, trying to warm up. “Like?”
“Like he meddles with everyone he loves. We’re just puppets to him. We’re fucking sleeping in a tent with fucking rose petals, Maya. Dammit! This is what he does. He doesn’t listen to what we want, he doesn’t ask permission, he just does whatever he thinks is best.”
I walked over and grabbed the champagne off the bedside table.
“You . . . want to talk about it?”
“No. I’m not the type that likes to whine about his feelings, in case you hadn’t noticed, Maya.” He was getting angrier, but I felt like I was picking at a scab, and I couldn’t stop. I wanted it off. I wanted to see what was underneath.
“Come on.”
“I said I don’t want to talk about it. And you wouldn’t want to hear it.”
“I would want to hear it. I want to understand.”
“No!” I passed him the bottle, and he took a long pull from it. “Fuck. You just think he’s all adorable and harmless.”
“But how much harm can there really be in wanting your loved ones to be happy?”
“I’ll tell you how much. Because I fell for his shit before, because the great, world-renowned matchmaker couldn’t possibly ever be wrong, could he?
I listened to his nonsense and ended up marrying a girl who wasn’t a good match for me.
And we tried to build a life together, and I took the rough, rocky bit of useless land that she had, and I built my dreams on that farm, on us.
Sweat and blood, every day for six fucking years.
And when she left, she took the farm with her.
And now I’m left with nothing. No wife. No farm.
No sheep. Just my dog, who has no sheep to herd, and the never-ending humiliation of being the subject of the hottest gossip for a bored little village who has nothing better to talk about.
If he’d just left me alone to make up my own fucking mind about my life, maybe things would have turned out differently.
But he pushed me. He convinced me it was the right thing.
You don’t do that to people you’re supposed to love.
You don’t mess with their lives. But that’s who my dad is.
Every day. And if it’s not love and marriage, it’s something else.
What kind of soap you should be washing your dishes with, what fucking socks you should be wearing.
Everything! Always meddling. Always giving you advice you didn’t ask for. ” He stopped and drank again.
“Okay. I didn’t know that.”
“No, of course you didn’t. Because it’s none of your damn business.”
“Well, yeah, all right. That’s true. But also, he didn’t exactly force you to get married, right? That was your decision. And it sounds like he was doing it out of love.”
“How do I even know what are my decisions or his decisions anymore? He’s been doing this since the day I was born. He changed the course of my life! How can you not get that?”
“But your divorce was years ago. Surely you can’t just be mad at him forever. Maybe it’s time to forgive him.”
“Forgive him for something he’ll never stop doing? Look around you, Maya! There’s a fucking rose-petal heart on the bed! That he had the fucking balls to say was a nice touch!”
“I mean. I’m not sure this is meddling. You know he loves a discount. He bought three party-sized bags of toffee popcorn while I was there just because they were on sale.”
He sneered. He needed sleep. He didn’t need this. “Don’t pretend to be stupid, Maya.”
I softened my voice. “Either way, all I’m saying is that whatever he is or isn’t, he’s your dad. And he loves you. And in the long run, that’s what’s important. When he’s gone, are you going to be proud that you treated him like crap all these years?”
I had tried to stop myself, but it just tumbled out. His eyes flashed, and he put his hand on the headboard and leaned across it, narrowing the space between us. Crap. Wrong move.
His voice was quieter but angrier. “I don’t remember asking for your damn opinion on my life. What would make you think that you have the right to comment on any of this? You just stepped off the fucking plane, and you feel the need to judge me?”
I shrugged. “I mean, everyone is judging everyone else all the time, it’s just that I usually come out and say what I’m thinking instead of hiding everything.”
“Well, I guess I should be grateful, then! I’d forgotten you were the authority on how people should be treated.
You’re making a living out of going on fake dates and making fun of strangers for your audience to laugh at.
And then you’ve come here for what? Because we’re your next joke?
Poor old Ned with that toupee, and me on that dating game, my father—I guess we’re all just fodder for your next episode, your next joke. ”
I started shivering. I could see his breath in the air between us. Had the temperature dropped that quickly? Maybe it was the ice in his words. He’d aimed them perfectly.
“It’s not like that, Tadhg. That’s not fair.
If you listened to it, you would see for yourself.
I’m the joke. The podcast makes fun of me.
Because I’m weird and awkward and because I don’t get it.
Because apparently, I’m less human than everyone else on the planet.
An anomaly. So I make fun of myself, and I make fun of all this crazy modern dating stuff, but I’m not making fun of my dates. I’m the problem. Not them.”
I grabbed the bottle and took a drink and tried to calm myself.
I took a sip, and then another, and finally chose to follow my own advice.
“Look. I’m sorry. Never mind. I don’t know why I brought all this up.
I was feeling awkward and I was trying to distract myself, and it just sort of slipped out.
It’s my fault. I’m protective of your father.
And I think maybe you can understand that, because I think you’re a protective person too. ”
He scanned me with narrowed eyes but didn’t say anything. Is there something else I’m supposed to say? What is it? How do I fix this? Can I ask him that, or will that make it feel fake?
“I’m sorry. Can we just . . . you know . . . forget about it? Finish the bottle. Go to sleep.” I held the bottle out to him.
For a long second, I was trapped in his gaze. This was such a stupid thing to do. To pick a fight when we were both so tired and he was already angry. I just never knew how to filter my thoughts. Never knew how to keep things in. Tonight I hated myself for it.
Then he scoffed. “Fine. Sure. Whatever you want.”
He drank, in one go, half of what was left, then he shoved the rest at me.
I thought about it for a second, and then I tipped the bottle back and did the same.
“Get under the fucking covers. You’re shaking like a goddamn leaf.” Even this concern for my welfare was angry. And it was not a request.
I put on my fuzzy socks and did as he said. But when I sat down, the whole mattress moved and let out a rubbery whine.
Tadhg, who was unbuttoning his shirt, spun around with a scowl that could melt the ice caps.
“No! You have got to be joking!” His eyes were wild. Insanity gripped him. “Is that a fucking AIR MATTRESS?”