The Half of It

Chapter Fifteen

Aidan

“How many straws does he think we need?” Mam huffs, sounding utterly defeated. She sits in the middle of the stockroom, and only the top of her ponytail is visible as I enter. “We’ve at least a year’s supply, and then some.”

“I may be partly to blame for that.”

“You ordered all these?” She peers over the battalion of boxes surrounding her, all of them stuffed with red straws.

“No, but Da’s been asking me to help with inventory and I, uh, I hadn’t made the time. Didn’t realize it was because our entire stock is now straws.”

“Ah.” I pick up on her irritation. She’d scold me for not helping, but she’s not in the position to, since this is still her responsibility. Not only does she do inventory more efficiently than anyone else, but for as long as I can remember, she insisted on doing the weekly stock checks herself. Da and I put this off because we hoped one day she’d be ready to come back to the pub. And in the meantime, he did his best—which left much to be desired.

But Mam’s here, so that’s a good sign. I take a couple of steps toward her and hold up the colorful bouquet for her to see. “For you.”

“Oh, Danny. You—you didn’t have to get these.” She uses the boxes as support to stand up, and she takes the flowers. “What’re these for?”

“For missing brunch.”

“Thank you. They’re beauties.”

“June helped me pick them out.” I recall standing in the flower shop with her at my hip and can’t help but grin. “Not peonies, but close. Dahlias, she said.”

Mam inhales the fragrance and gives me a weak smile before reaching over the stack of cardboard boxes between us and pulling me into a one-armed embrace. Sometimes I get the sense that she can’t handle physical contact—almost like a hug from me reminds her that she can’t wrap her arms around Michael. I wonder if I cause her pain by just existing, like I’m a living reminder of her other son.

I fetch her a pint glass of water to arrange them in until she goes home. She pats the petals and gives the bouquet one last sniff before returning to her spot in the supply room. Today must be a better day for her.

“Need help in here?” I ask.

“No. Usual tasks, that’s all. Been a little behind, what with visiting Bri and all.”

Aunt Brianna has needed more support with her ever-growing collection of farm animals, so Mam’s gone up to assist. The trips have given her a break from the black hole of all-consuming grief.

“How’s Cara?” my mam asks. “Bundle of nerves? Or you keeping her sane?”

“Both, I’m sure. This week’s about as smooth as she and Yaz could’ve asked for. Some stressful moments, but manageable.” It’s June who came out of nowhere, who truly pulled my focus. “You’re, erm, you’re still planning on this Saturday, are you?”

“’Course!”

“Cara’ll love to hear that. Da’s going too?”

“He is,” she says, her voice tighter, like she’s holding onto something. “We wouldn’t miss her day.”

“Danny!” Da appears at the entrance. The bags under his eyes sag, and his hair could use a comb. “D’you work today?”

“Not back until after the wedding. I stopped by the house for Mam but found her here instead.”

“Since you’re here, perhaps—”

“Oh, stop with that.” My mam bats at the air, chasing away his words. “It’s his time off, let ’im have that much.”

“Well.” Da speaks that single word with exasperation, leading me to believe this isn’t their first disagreement of the day. “We need him in here at some point.”

“Are you blind to this? We should make other plans. What we need is someone to handle this when I’m gone.”

“You can talk to me. I’m right here,” I say, my voice blade-sharp. But what she said drains the fight out of me. “What d’you mean, when you’re gone? Gone where?”

She and Da look at each other and then apart, both avoiding my question. The worst-case scenario punches me in the gut. “What’s going on? Are you sick?”

“No, it’s not that, Danny,” she says, abandoning her post at the straws and wiping some hair from her face. “We’ve discussed it, and this…oh, love, this really isn’t how I intended us to tell you.”

“Tell me what ?”

“This,” my dad clears his throat. “This might not come as a surprise, but we…we’ve agreed we need some time apart.”

I shrug at this non-news. “You’ve been up with Aunt Bri almost every other week. You two’ve been apart.”

“We wanted to see how that time away from each other would feel.” My mother fiddles with her rings, twisting her wedding band around and around. “And we think that’s the way forward.”

“So…you’re divorcing?” The room shrinks around me, becoming too small for the three of us.

Mam shakes her head, and Da steps in. “Separating. For now.”

“And when were you planning on telling me?” I whip my head to Da, who has both hands hidden in his jeans pockets. “How long would you let me go on believing this was all working out? Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“We’re telling you now.”

My parents’ marriage hasn’t been perfect, but all along, I thought Mam was trying to process what she’d lost and make peace with the universe. Turns out, the time up at Brianna’s was a test run for her new life. Mam needed a break. From the pub, from the reminders of Michael. From me.

“It’s for the best.” Mam sounds like she’s reading lines from a poorly rehearsed play. “For everyone.”

“It’s certainly the easy thing to do.”

“Aidan McCarthy.” Da saying my name in that threatening tone makes me bite back any harsher response.

“Nothing about this is easy, love.” Mam’s voice shakes like a skinny blade of grass in furious winds. “Your da and I have fought for each other, and the most loving action we can take is to step away.” Her eyes well up and the tears cascade down her face, which rips me in two. “I’m working to be better for you, Danny, I am. But we need to do what’s right. For us both.”

The air’s become thick, almost impossible to breathe. Mam excuses herself to the bathroom while Da remains stock-still at the door.

“You should’ve told me,” I say. Him not mentioning this until now is a betrayal of our fragile trust in each other.

“I wanted to.” His raw honesty shakes me, like he knows how much this hurts. “But the decision comes down to me and your mam and no one else.”

With an exhale, I grab my coat. He calls out, “There’s nothing more you could’ve done, son,” but I’m out and already tearing through the front door.

Somewhere along the way, from when Michael died to now, I’ve failed. There’s no number of picnics together or amount of willingness to learn inventory or bouquets of pink and orange flowers that can change how my parents feel. This whole time, I’ve lied to myself.

I’ll never be Michael. I can’t go back in time to take his place in that car. And I’ll never be able to return us to the life we lived together before he died.

I slam my front door shut behind me, shocking June as much as myself.

“Sorry,” I mutter. “Didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“No worries.”

She closes her laptop as I stalk into the kitchen for a drink of water. I almost don’t have the energy to admire how adorable she looks, sitting cross-legged with a pair of tie-dyed socks decorated in cat drawings. I down half a glass and wipe my chin with my hand.

“You okay?” she asks.

“Not really.”

June studies me with a neutral expression. She doesn’t press for more information, but she creates the space for me to share, if I’d like. I’ve never met someone who has a sixth sense the way she does—who doesn’t force what she wants or needs on anyone. She just lets them exist with her and open up on their own time. She did it with me on the way to Dublin after the interview, and she’s doing it now.

“My, uh, my parents told me they’re separating. I…” I scratch the back of my neck, remembering how awfully the conversation in the stock room ended, with Mam in tears and me storming out on Da. “They just told me, and I didn’t—I handled it poorly.”

“Well, yeah, that’s understandable.” She pushes her computer off her lap and hugs her knees. It’s heartachingly cute. “I’m really sorry. That must be so hard.”

I nod and redirect my attention back to my glass.

“Do you want me to go?” she asks. “I can give you some space.”

“No. I mean, do what you like. I won’t stop you. But it’s grand, you bein’ here.” I clear my throat and process my thoughts out loud. “I thought I was doing everything right,” I say to myself. “Doing everything I could.”

“You are.”

“Not enough, though.”

“It’s their relationship. It’s…” June sinks deeper into the sofa, still balled up, but looser, relaxed. “You have to recognize that other people’s bullshit often has nothing to do with you. It sucks, but you can do and be everything for your parents, and it still might not matter.” I catch the earnestness in her voice—a sincere understanding behind every word she’s saying. “Wanna go for a walk? Get some fresh air and clear your head? Four walls can suffocate you if you’re not careful.” She watches me and shrugs. “We don’t have to. Just a thought.”

I’ve a million things going on in my brain that I don’t fully appreciate the gracious invite and how she’s looking out for me. I gesture to her computer. “Don’t you have to work?”

“I could use a break. Just salvaging this assignment if I can.”

“How d’you mean?”

“Oh, it’s boring.” She waves her hand at her laptop, dismissing it. “Dealing with my editor, deadlines. Don’t worry about it. A walk would be nice.”

Once I grab my camera, I take us to one of my favorite spots to catch the sunset. A late afternoon drive together doesn’t mean anything, no matter how much heat floods my chest when we pull into the driveway of a familiar sky-blue cottage. The paint’s peeling more than I recall. I step on each cobblestone leading into the gated yard, which is protected by worn fencing and shrubbery. The ceiling of gray clouds makes the day feel later than it actually is, but I checked the forecast, and we should still have a solid hour to explore.

Mr. Flynn opens the door and passes me the key with a grunt. He juts his thumb toward the back of the house, as if I haven’t visited his property before, and I thank him.

“Who’s that guy?” June asks as we make our way down the hill. Before I can answer, she squints and points across the field. “Is that a castle?”

“That man runs the estate, and you need a key to get in.”

“We’re going to a castle ?”

June looks like a child on Christmas morning, and her excitement gives me something positive to focus on. That we have to dodge piles of manure and mud holes on the route through the pasture doesn’t lessen her joy in the least.

She pulls out her phone and begins typing with deft thumbs.

“Bored already?”

“Taking notes,” she says.

“Thought you didn’t want to talk about work.”

“I don’t. And I’m not. This is different. Maybe it’ll find its way into another article one day, but for now I want to write memos so I remember.”

When we arrive, she wanders around the property, trailing her fingertips against the stone structure. The dilapidated crest on the north side of the exterior stops her in her tracks, and every nook and cranny seems to fill her with a new wonder. Watching her, I almost forget why I wanted—needed—to come here. Room. Space. Time to think behind the lens.

“You’re in some of my photos. Is that okay?”

“Sure. Let me know if I need to get out of the way. Don’t want to ruin your pics.”

“You don’t. Look.” I walk over, scroll through the photographs on my SD card, and hold one up for her. Her chestnut hair waves in the wind while one of her hands stretches out, reaching for the castle walls. June’s face tilts upward, taking in the behemoth of ruins in front of her.

“That school’s probably typing up that acceptance letter as we speak.”

“You’re talking like my brother.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“He was the first person to encourage me to apply for the program. If not for him, I might never have envisioned any other life for myself other than what’s at the pub. I almost feel like if I don’t get back in, somehow I’m letting him down.”

“He’s kind of the reason you’re sticking around too, isn’t he?”

The breath in my lungs whooshes out of me. I’ve been lost, wandering with what I think Michael would want from me and what I imagine he would do in my position—two opposing forces—as my compass.

“He’d want you to be happy,” June goes on, her voice cautious, like she can sense I’m processing something deep. “He knew how much you loved photography, but pursuing that can look a million different ways, not only through a degree. You’ve got the gear, you’ve got the eye. No one needs to give you permission to do what you love except you.”

Her words hit me somewhere unknown, shaking my core. “I wish someone could just tell me what to do sometimes. Figuring it out alone is…” I hiss out a breath.

“Yeah.” Her steps look heavier, like she’s carrying a load on her shoulders. “I know what you mean.”

We approach one of the ground-floor windows, which looks out over waves of grass. The cool gray tones of the stone contrast with the pastoral hills.

“We work with some freelance photographers at The Edge .” She traces her finger along the edge of the weathered rock. “I could connect you to them, see if they can help point you in the right direction. If you set up a site and email some editors, I’m sure they’d love to have someone like you on their roster.”

I chuckle and stuff one hand in my pocket.

“What?” she asks.

“Nothing. You have a way of…I guess, making me feel like anything’s possible,” I say as a smile inches across my face. “Thank you for suggesting I get outside. Some room to breathe is nice.”

“Good.” June leans into a window and smiles at the landscape. “This place is amazing. I’ve got a layer of mud on my boots, the weather’s awful, and it smells like cow shit, but I’m having a great time.”

“You’ll have to come back to visit.”

“Here?”

“No. Yes. I mean, Ireland.”

“We’ll see.” She runs her bottom lip through her teeth. “I’ve liked getting away. Traveling. Wish I could do it more. You’ve been an outstanding tour guide.”

My heart is a string, and the way that June turns and beams at me, dazzling and purely happy, ties me into a knot. Her gaze flashes down to my lips, and I swallow.

“I’d take you anywhere to see you smile like that,” I say, barely loud enough to hear over the breeze.

What would you do if you had one of those moments coming up where you knew, you just knew, your life was about to change?

I don’t want to live always wondering what if? but I really shouldn’t do this. June must pick up on my hesitation, because she closes most of the space between us and lifts her chin up like she’s giving me permission. I’m hit with the sweet smell of her hair and a hint of mint on her breath.

If I want to have no regrets, now’s my chance.

We lean in, and our mouths meet in a curious, tentative greeting. Her lips on mine, so soft and warm, make half of me dissolve into the ground and the other half soar into the sky—all from the tiniest touch. I want to bury myself in this moment. With one hand, I cup her jaw, stroking her cheek with my thumb.

I’ve found heaven.

She pushes into me with intensity, and a delicious moan rises in her throat. I’d like nothing more than to coax every pleasurable sound possible out of her. She tugs on my jacket so our bodies fuse together, and our mouths melt into each other.

When we pause, separating the smallest amount, the air between us crackles with energy. Our breathing is in sync, and I press my forehead to hers.

“That was…” I swallow. “Unexpected.”

“Good-unexpected?”

She’s Cara’s sister. She’s not a relationship kind of woman. She doesn’t even live here.

“Complicated-unexpected.”

“Oh.” She takes a step back. “Did I read things wrong?”

“No, I just…I’ve thought about us. This.”

“Okay.”

“I just haven’t thought far ahead enough about what Cara might think about this.”

“Cara?”

“I don’t want her to feel odd about us getting involved. She’s my closest friend and your sister.”

“Right.” June’s expression changes, like a cloud going over her face, and she retreats another step. “If she and I weren’t related, you wouldn’t care?”

“Suppose not.” I feel like she’s asking a trick question, but I don’t know why. “You wouldn’t be here, though, would you? We wouldn’t even be having this conversation.”

She looks like I’ve just slapped her across the face. “You know, we should go.”

“June, I just don’t want to rush something—”

“No, you’re totally right. We shouldn’t have done that. Bad idea. I’d like to go now, please.”

“We just need to make sure we consider…everything.”

“I agree.” She zips her jacket up higher, closing herself off to me. “And after considering everything, I want to go.”

Somehow, I had the most perfect chance with the most perfect girl and obliterated it. I know June deserves someone dashing, daring—someone who’ll take a real chance and not let thoughts get in the way. I wish that could be me.

We walk back to the Flynns, return the key, and without another word, we head home, where June goes straight to her room. Confusion eclipses the elation of our moment together, her face pressed to mine. If only I could talk to Cara about this, but she wouldn’t appreciate me hitting on her half sister, I’m sure. That’s got to be part of why June pulled away and established stronger defenses, and honestly, I should thank her for it. She made the right choice for both of us.

That’s what I tell myself, over and over, before drifting off to sleep.