Chapter 23 Declan
DECLAN
Iscuff my foot and almost stagger. Perhaps Maggie is upset because I’ve forgotten my manners—I guess I’m used to women fawning over me and my wealth.
Clearing my throat, I say, “Welcome aboard. Please, make yourself comfortable. The flight attendant can provide any beverages or food you may like. There is cake.”
She tilts her head and narrows her eyes as though that was the wrong thing to say.
“Did you forget something? Did I?” I ask at a loss. “Is there something I can get for you?”
She lets out a sigh as she plunks into the leather seat.
The interior is cream and gold, everything shiny and polished.
“You wanted to come with me, right?”
“I didn’t know we’d be using such ostentatious means of travel.” She snorts.
I can count on one hand the times Maggie and I have fought. Usually, it was over something stupid and resolved in less than five minutes. But this is different. She seems genuinely upset or disappointed in me.
“You know that I like to make an entrance. Not going to lie, I like the luxuries my life affords me. I’ve worked for it and didn’t grow up some privileged, entitled goldie.
” I snort. Goldie had been Keefe’s expression, meaning those who lived a charmed life.
Will he catch word that I’m back? Likely.
The two of us could sniff each other out in the dark.
But we haven’t spoken since I left Dublin and Keefe went to jail.
“A goldie? Ironic.” Maggie likely remembers me using the term when we’d privately tease the entitled students senior year who’d been born with gold spoons in their mouths, never mind silver ones.
Maggie gazes out the window, locking me out and leaving me to walk back in time. Memories flood my mind as the plane hurtles past a golden sunset that stands in contrast to our darkening moods.
When I lived in Dublin, my reputation was right up there with the roughest of the street toughs. No one would mess with me. But inside, I was soft. Weak. Vulnerable. But I kept it hidden.
Right now, I feel like I’m balancing on the knife-edge of being tough and tender as memories slice through my mind like the clouds whispering by outside the oval window of the jet.
I left Dublin years ago. A pause button had been pressed, preserving all of my emotions like baggage left behind. They’re frozen in time, cryogenically stored in well-worn luggage. Now, with the prospect of returning, I’m afraid they’ll all come rushing back and spill out.
More than anything, I don’t want Maggie to see the other side of me—the guy that isn’t the fun-loving goofball jokester.
The side that I’d left on the streets. Any dangerous behavior that managed to tag along with me abroad to the US, I’d beaten out of myself during my training as a mixed martial artist. And let’s be honest, there were countless times when I had to check my ego at the door and take a big bite of humility.
When the lights of Dublin city come into view, stretching in every direction and then ending abruptly where it meets the sea, I sense a pair of hazel eyes flit to me and remain fixed there.
My stomach lurches and it’s not because of turbulence.
Before we touch down, I have to make this right.
“Mag-ookie, I’m sorry if this is too flashy.
I figured you’d like it rather than having a kid kicking the back of your seat the entire commercial flight or the attendant forgetting to bring you water or a broken vent blasting lavatory air at you the whole time. ”
“It’s just so posh.”
“What’s wrong with living large? Wouldn’t you if you had the chance?”
“I did, Declan,” she says, almost in a whisper.
It takes me a moment to follow. “Oh. I didn’t know.” Maggie’s expression is closed as I try to peel back the layers of understanding.
“Growing up, I was wealthy. I had everything except—it doesn’t matter. I’ve since made my own way and don’t take handouts. Unless it’s a cupcake. Won’t say no to one of those.”
I nod slowly. “Sort of makes sense now. You’re a minimalist, renouncing all your worldly belongings, including Bagwick Wiggletop.”
Her stony expression cracks. “I did once consider becoming a religious sister.”
We both laugh, not because there is anything funny about nuns. No, I respect them deeply. Rather, this whole situation, and how Maggie and I can go from serious and somber to silly in two seconds.
There’s no one else like her. But now is not the time to probe her about the past. Mostly because I don’t want to discuss mine. After all, we have an unspoken agreement.
“Ordinarily, the school arranges for our accommodations, but because we left so abruptly, we’ll have to find a place to stay, unless you’re heading home,” she says.
“I haven’t been home in years.” Where would I even call home? A park bench? The encampment under one of the bridges that run over the River Liffey?
She looks at me expectantly as though waiting for the address.
“Don’t be silly. I’ve already made arrangements,” I say.
“You didn’t have to go through the trouble.”
“It wasn’t any trouble.”
Outside the cocoon of the airplane, the air is damp, the memories stark, and my energy as viscous as blood. I move slowly, as though stepping through time. Forward or backward, I’m not sure.
Another luxury sedan waits for us. Its headlights glow in the light fog.
In the short walk from the plane across the tarmac, Maggie shivers.
I long to drape my arm over her shoulder, drawing her closer.
I want to assure her it’s okay. No, I want her to do that for me.
But is it? Right now, I need an anchor, something to tether me to the life I made for myself beyond these shores.
With my hand planted on her low back, I open the car door and she gets inside.
Maggie gazes out the window as if trying to connect our surroundings to me. We never officially declared our pasts private, but there’s a gap in our knowledge of each other and it only starts when we met in high school.
The thing is, I don’t particularly want to fill in the blanks, or be reminded of the guy I was. Maggie is better off not knowing, but I’m afraid that my worlds will soon collide. If I’m not careful, everything I’ve worked hard for, including this friendship, could get sucked into a black hole.
Since leaving Blancbourg, a heavy curtain seems to have dropped between us. It’s as though we both have something to say, but stick to our unspoken pact not to discuss our pasts. I know what I’m keeping from her, and for good reason, but why is she acting distant and cold?
I’m tempted to slide across the hood of the car, action movie star style, but I’m afraid if I turn my back, she’ll bolt and I’ll lose her to this city forever.
It’s happened before.
But I can’t let the past tackle me. As if dodging a linebacker blitz, I waver slightly on my feet.
Maggie ducks her head out the window as if sensing my hesitation. She says, “Remember who holds the lantern lighting your path, Declan. Trust Him. It’s going to be okay.”
A memory of a Bible study my aunt made me join tumbles toward me. There, I met Christ and my life changed after that. One Psalm, in particular, illuminates my mind.
But being back here reminds me so much of Siobhan. Never mind a cold headache from ice cream, my chest hurts. But instead of her, Maggie is here comforting me, saying and doing the right things.