Chapter 16
The whole thing is a mess and over the next few weeks all the progress I made with Luke goes right back to zero as he starts avoiding me again.
It’s like our happy day at the beach never happened, and as Rory goes and another round of job rejections come in, April turns to May and it’s like nothing’s changed at all.
The only thing that has gotten a little better is my relationship with Louise.
While we still can’t go a day without snapping at each other, it’s easier now there are no more lies between us.
I no longer have to skirt around her questions and she drops some of her act as well, our dinner eaten in front of the television rather than at the table and I’m finally allowed to help around the house, so I feel less like a guest with each passing day.
One Sunday morning she even grants me the greatest olive branch of all, a chance to accompany her on the weekly “big” shop since Tomasz is sleeping off a late shift.
This involves us driving to the nearest superstore, where I trail her around the aisles as she uses a little self-scanner to keep track of everything she puts in the cart.
It’s the most excitement I’ve had in weeks.
After that is the pharmacy, where she buys pain killers, hay fever tablets and six more pregnancy tests, which I pretend aren’t a big deal and instead act very interested in their two-for-one body cream display.
We don’t argue once. Not when I make a bad parking space suggestion.
Not even when I forget to remind her to pick up some parmesan.
It should have been a nice morning out, a little sisterly bonding session, except on the way back to Clonard she gets a phone call that wipes out our fragile peace in a matter of seconds.
“It’s insulting is what it is,” she tells me now as we speed home.
I brace a hand against the dashboard as the car almost flies over the bridge.
“They seriously think we’re just going to lie down and let them take it.”
“I think the reason they’re pushing so hard is because they know you won’t,” I tell her. “It’s really a compliment if you ask me.”
“I didn’t.”
Noted.
The auction of Castlebay beach is not going well. Or rather the problem is it’s going well for the developers of Ireland’s newest five-star hotel. For Louise, it’s a nightmare. A nightmare come true since the formal complaint she lodged was officially thrown out this morning.
“Can’t the council just buy it off them?” I ask.
“The council is useless ,” she fumes as we turn onto our street. “They should never have let it go to auction in the first place. Do you know how much wildlife is on that stretch of coast?”
“Lots?”
“Abby.”
“It was a serious guess!”
“They’re just going to bulldoze over it,” she mutters. “Like they do everything in this country and it’s not like the politicians are doing anything about it. Once again it’s up to us to— Who the hell is that?”
“Huh?”
I follow her gaze toward the house, where a sleek black BMW is parked outside. It might not look so odd anywhere else, but considering the last time someone got a new car in Clonard it was 1997, it does seem a little suspicious.
“Maybe it’s the developers,” I say. “With an offer you can’t refuse.”
“Abby, I swear I’ll—”
“Sorry. Is Tomasz friends with any rich doctors?”
“Not that I know of. Unless… oh my God.” Louise slows to a stop a few doors down, turning to me in horror. “Is this to do with MacFarlane?”
“What?”
“Is it the FBI?”
“Louise! No!”
“If you were in deeper than you said you were, I need you to tell me right now.”
“It’s not the FBI,” I snap even as I start to panic. What if it is the FBI? “I was an associate. There were hundreds of us.”
“But you fled the country.”
“I didn’t flee the— Oh no.” I still as someone leans out of the driver’s window.
Oh no .
“What?” Louise looks back toward the car. “Who is that?”
Jess peers down the street, one hand to her forehead as she blocks out the sun.
“A friend,” I say, clearing my throat. “I think she might be coming to stay for a few days.”
“She’s doing what ?”
“Guess who!” The shout is accompanied by a very loud honk of the horn and I immediately think of poor Tomasz in the house, trying to sleep. Jess steps out, waving enthusiastically, as Louise pulls into the drive.
“She’s staying here?” Louise asks.
“Probably.”
“We don’t have any clean sheets.”
“I’ll clean them.”
“Or spare towels.”
“I’ll spare them.”
“Abby!”
“Yell at me later,” I hiss, unbuckling my seat belt. “And this is not my fault. I told her not to come.” I get out as Jess runs toward me, moving like she’s in a pair of Nikes rather than her heeled boots.
“Jessica?”
Her arms fly out. “ Surpriiise! ”
“Yes, it is,” I sing through clenched teeth. “What are you doing here?”
She wraps an arm around my shoulders, both of us still smiling as we talk in low voices. “I knew if I told you I was coming, you’d think of an excuse. It’s much better to put people on the spot when you want things to go your way.”
“Hilarious. I’m going to kill you.”
“Like I haven’t heard that before. You must be Louise!”
Jess pushes me to the side as Louise joins us, pulling my sister in for a hug.
“We talked on the phone, remember? Your hair is even prettier in person. Hi! Tomasz, right?”
The three of us turn toward the porch where a bewildered, and still a little sleepy, Tomasz gapes at her.
It’s not that I don’t understand. Even in jeans and a T-shirt, Jess looks like a movie star who’s just stepped off set.
In Clonard she sticks out like a sore thumb.
And while other people might feel self-conscious about that, I know Jess would only thrive.
“I brought gifts!” she announces with a luminous smile, staring at me until I sigh.
We head into the house as Jess doles out the expensive wine and boxes of chocolate, barely letting us get a word in as she chats endlessly about “what a lovely home” Louise has and how she “hoped she wouldn’t be too much trouble.”
There’s an obligatory cup of coffee in the kitchen, where she tells us about her flight and her drive down and then, like a child bringing home a friend after school, I shepherd her up the stairs and into my bedroom so I can yell at her for not giving me a heads-up.
As soon as she stepped out of the car, I knew why I was so against her coming.
I don’t want Jess here. I want her in a cocktail bar overlooking the Manhattan skyline.
I want her in some bougie thrift store looking for vintage dresses.
I need her there. I need something in my life to remain unchanged.
Her presence only makes everything here seem duller. Grayer. And that includes me.
And I’m furious that she still doesn’t get that.
“I know,” she says as soon I shut the door. “And I’m sorry but I’m also not sorry.”
“You couldn’t have at least given me an hour’s notice? Louise’s patience with me is thin enough as it is.”
“She’ll get over it.”
“That’s not the point,” I snap. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“To see you! Shit, Abby, sorry for wanting to see my friend. And lest we forget, I’m not the one who ran away without saying goodbye. If anyone, I’m the person who should be mad in this situation.”
“But you didn’t think I might—”
“Oh, save the tantrum, okay? You’re talking to the queen of them.”
She dumps her purse on the bed and stalks the two steps to the window, sliding it open.
“It’s stuffy in here,” she mutters. She stays like that, her back to me in her “I’m upset now” pose and my initial anger starts to fade. She’s right. I did run away. And I suppose it’s not the best welcome for someone who flew across an ocean to see you.
“I’m sorry,” I say when she doesn’t move. “Jess? I mean it.”
She turns back around, crossing her arms as rests against the windowsill. “I’m sorry too. I should have told you I was coming.”
“You shouldn’t have come at all.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s weird,” I say, gathering up the clothes strewn over the back of the chair.
“You know, from the way you spoke about this place I thought a horse and cart was going to pick me up. Some red-faced farmer in a tweed jacket who I couldn’t understand a word of.”
“I’ll make sure you get the authentic experience for your flight out.
” I drop to the floor, sitting cross-legged in front of the mirror.
Makeup will help. I haven’t been wearing any the last few weeks, a little fearful that if I ran out I couldn’t afford replacements, but now I’m determined to feel a little more normal.
Abandoning the window, Jess joins me on the carpet, her long legs stretched before her, crossed at the ankles.
“Bring your brush up,” she says when I start on my bronzer. “You’re lucky enough to have cheekbones, Abby. You might as well highlight them.”
“I can’t do it if you watch me.”
“Then I’ll do it.” She snatches the brush from me, her fingers warm and dry as they pinch my chin, turning my face toward her. There’s a burning behind my eyes that won’t go away and I try not to blink as she examines me. “Are you still mad?” she asks.
“No.”
“Good. Because I got you some foundation.” Her attention is on my temples as she blends. “It’s your present but we might need to check the shade. You’ve gotten paler.”
“Oh, thanks.”
“I didn’t say it was a bad thing.” She abandons the brush, reaching for some highlighter. “Remember when we first met and I used to do this?”
“You said it relaxed you.”
“It does. And you were the only person who let me do it. No one else trusted me not to make them look bad. But you used to do whatever I told you to.” Her thumb wipes away a tear I didn’t even know had fallen. “When did you stop doing that?”
“I don’t know,” I say, my voice breaking. “I feel like I don’t know anything anymore.”
“Yes, you do. Hey. Hey. ” She shushes me, drawing me in for a hug, and despite my half-finished face, she doesn’t stop me as I bury my head in her shoulder and do what I haven’t done since the day I lost my job. I cry.