Chapter 3
3
Entering on to the M1 North towards home, Maeve took a deep breath, hoping to stop the bouncing thoughts, giving her a huge tension headache. She knew no amount of Tylenol existed to ease the hammering between her eyes. The unexpected confrontation with Liam in the parking garage was the last thing she had expected, let alone planned for.
Frowning, she realized how everyone always told her there would be comfort in knowing that both young love trauma and a broken heart could heal over time–of course that was as long as you didn’t run into the person, allowing those unexpected memories and emotions to resurface when you saw the bastard. All the literary giants out there were wrong; time did not heal all wounds. You just continued to bleed, never really allowing the scar to fully heal.
Since the end of their relationship, Maeve had developed a certain amount of caution in committing her heart to any man who expressed taking things to the next level, offering that possibility of forever love. Her skittishness to commitment was just one of the huge gaping wounds in her heart where those potential unions end much sooner than later. She’d even adopted as her own personal mantra, Great White’s song ‘Once Bitten Twice Shy’ to remind herself of what happens when you commit too soon and too fast.
The ringing of Maeve’s cell phone broken into her musings as she crossed the border separated Ireland into the North and South halves. It wasn’t very hard to miss its existence as the simple sign announcing you were crossing an imaginary border that many Irish residents of the island didn’t acknowledge, even before the peace accords over twenty years ago. The national speed limit sign was painted to create the illusion of sniper bullets piercing it, resulting in bleeding holes. This, a testament, which was entertaining and brilliant in a way, representing how people felt about a divided Ireland, reinforcing Maeve’s unwavering patriotism and commitment.
“Hello, Maeve speaking.”
The voice greeting her on the line was her best mate, Oonagh. They’d been friends since primary school and through the thick and thin of each other’s lives. If there was anyone she could talk to about the ridiculous day and the situation she had walked into, it would be with Oonagh.
Maeve understood instinctively that now, after she had calmed down a bit, it wasn’t the time for her to rehash and dwell on what could have been or why things turned out the way they did. She needed a sounding board to figure out how to work with Liam in the most civil manner possible. Both the GAA and her colleagues at the Down Office wouldn’t have known her ancient history with the rising Down football star, now causing personal chaos on so many levels; but she was a professional and at this opportunity the world of Gaelic football and sports was offering would open numerous doors for her in the future; he would not ruin this for her too.
“Glad you’re calling. Are you home tonight, or do you have plans with Shane?”
“It’s the usual Friday and Saturday night ritual as the groupie girlfriend of a band God. Shane and the lads are playing a set at The Old Killowen Inn tonight. It’s the first night of the annual Fiddler’s Green Music Festival. You’re still coming, right?”
“Yes. So, looking forward to sitting back with a pint and just singing along to the usual ditties. It’s been a while since I’ve had a real old craic fest with you. Besides, I need advice.”
“Didn’t you have that meeting at the GAA this morning? How did it go? I take it the meeting wasn’t what you were expecting.”
Maeve released her breath slowly through pursed lips making a wobbling motorboat sound.
“Damn. That bad, eh?
“Well … sort of. I ran into my old football teammates from university, Aisling. She heads up their marketing and communications team. They have an event they want the Down GAA to run with them during the upcoming Wake the Giant Festival”
“And that’s bad how?”
“Well … it seems I’m tasked with providing the Down Council’s help to set up and coordinate a GAA event during the festival promoting the new Celtic Games being played and represented by our current Olympic Team hopefuls for the Summer of 2028.”
“Wow sounds brilliant! What aren’t you telling me? I don’t understand what the problem is. You deal with bureaucrats and ridiculous timelines all the time.”
Maeve didn’t respond.
“Maeve? Hello! You still there?”
“Yes. However, it is not the usual bureaucratic situation as you would think. I’m looking forward to working with Aisling and her team, but it’s the footballer they want me to work with that’s the problem. It’s a personal challenge that I’m not sure how to feel about it or how to work with it.”
“What–are they making you work with one of those usual prima-donna athletes who wants to make sure he’s getting all the headlines? Girl, you can handle anything and anyone. I don’t understand what your personal challenge is.”
Searching her brain for ideas of and the most adult and diplomatic way to tell Oonagh her predicament, she couldn’t think of anything. It was best to just pull off the latest band aide holding her fragile intelligence together. Best to just blurt it out.
“Liam McCann.”
The string of strong and colorful words erupting over the phone by Oonagh made Maeve blush, just before she started laughing at her reaction.
“What the feck! How in the hell is that two faced wanker involved?! Please tell me you followed him into the bathroom and switch blade his bollocks! I can’t even fecking believe it!”
Leave it to Oonagh to always have a very direct and colorful vocabulary to say the right words to make it known how you should always feel in these unexpected and unfortunate situations. She always gave Maeve some much needed levity to process any predicament.
“Maeve, this situation calls for more than music, and more than a couple of pints to tackle this. It requires something harder, with endless rounds of comfort snacks. Hell, since we’re just down the road from the Fairy Glen, we need to make a stop to ask for divine intervention! Wasn’t Liam’s Granny–God bless her Irish heart–a believer in the power of the fairies? I remember her Celtic History and Story hours in primary school.”
Signaling before pulling off to the side of the highway, she stopped her car, shifting it into park to avoid an accident. She couldn’t stop laughing as tears of hilarity streamed down her face. After a few moments, she hiccupped, snagging her breath, before wiping away tears from her eyes. Her self-control back, she continued her conversation with Oonagh.
“Yes, Granny McCann was a very avid believer in the fairies and all the stories in Irish Mythology; she was our favorite teacher in school. In fact, my Mum sees her regularly at church, not too far from the care home she is living in Newry. Mum says she even has a regular volunteer gig in her retirement, still working with a few primary schools to pass on the stories and Irish culture. Besides, I don’t think she would take kindly to us asking the little people to curse Liam, he was one of her favorite wee grands you know.”
“Well, it was just a suggestion, since we will be in central fairy territory. Anyway … what time do you think you can meet me at The Old Killowen?”
“8:00? I need to stop off at the office to drop off a few things before I can get home to change.”
“Works perfect. I’ll save a seat.”
Stabbing a sausage roll from one of the snack plates and placing it in her mouth to chew, Maeve still wasn’t sure how she could handle working with Liam over the next few weeks. If anything, she was more confused than ever, realizing in the last hour of commiserating to Oonagh, she had slowly started to side with her relationship nemesis. Maybe it was the two pints of Guinness and the double shot of Jamison’s she’d consumed that were making her imagine things.
“Maeve, think about it logically for a moment,” Oonagh commented, using the chip she had just dipped into ketchup as a pointer to drive her point home. “From what you’ve told me, he wants a truce. I think and feel deep down he wants to make amends. So why not hear him out–bring closure to this part of your past that’s been keeping you from moving on?”
“What are you insinuating? I’m moving, I mean have moved on.”
“Have you … really?”
“Excuse me, but this from the woman who earlier went off about how I should have followed him into the bathroom and cut his bollocks off? What suddenly has happened that you are changing your mind? What did I miss?”
“I know Liam as well as you do; hell, we were all thick as thieves growing up. I wouldn’t be surprised if neither of you ever stopped loving each other and if both of you are too stubborn to realize it.”
Picking up a crisp, Maeve threw it at Oonagh.
“Did I hit a nerve? Maeve, I love you to death, but sometimes the gobshite you spout to cover up what is really going on in your brain and heart is completely ridiculous. Liam will not put you in any kind of embarrassing situation while you’re working together. If you both allowed each other a bit of forgiveness, would that be so bad?”
Folding her arms across her chest, Maeve slumped back in her chair, giving herself a moment to let Oonagh’s words sink in.
“Maybe there is some truth to what you are saying. I can only try to hear him out if it comes up while we are working together. If anything, we both need to understand what happened. I’ll try to keep an open mind.”
“Enough, to the bar! Both Maeve and Oonagh grabbed the fresh pints and both holding them aloft. Smiling, Maeve spoke.
“Thank you for being here when I need someone most who really understands me. Where would I be without you giving me a push and a good kick in the arse when I need a reality check?”
“Having to ask your Mum for help?”
“Now we both know that would be a grand bit of sunshine …”
Laughing in unison, Maeve and Oonagh knocked their pint glasses together, shouting over the chattering pub patron singing along to the band playing Seven Drunken Nights …
“Slainte!”