man, but my heart was speaking from two sides of its mouth. One voice sounded a lot like my Mam’s. The other sounded like mine.
Some days, I felt like I could love him (Mam’s voice).
Other days, I wondered where the passion was (my voice).
I couldn’t help but wonder whether I was too fucked up beyond repair to actually give love properly and receive it. Was the part of me that died with my sister my ability to love? Or maybe I’d lost my heart, where love was supposed to live.
I loved my parents. I loved my siblings. I loved Mari.
But men? When it came time to switch the light on love, it was always a burnt-out bulb. The men I’d dated always seemed to brighten the room we were in, but not me. Shouldn’t I burn for them when they were around?
I couldn’t talk to Mari about all of this. Again, she had no clue about Roisin, and she had enough going on in her life. My twisted thoughts on love were the least of her problems. Hell, they should’ve been the least of mine, but Scott sort of fell into my life, and I’d been keeping him a secret from everyone. My parents didn’t know. Neither did my brothers. And again, I decided not to tell Mari.
Things were moving fast with him, though, and I felt utterly lost in a strange place.
If Scott was so right, why did I feel so turned around?
I tried to put the brakes on a bit, slow us down, but when he loved, he seemed to love with all he had. Yeah, love. I’d met him in May, it was December, and he had already told me he loved me. He wanted me to meet his family. He wanted to meet mine.
On paper, we worked out. He was older than me, but not too much older. He had a career, and even though it consumed his life, I could respect his drive. He treated me right and respected me. But…I always had a “but” when I thought about all of the things that were right about us.
He’s good looking, but…not my usual type.
He has a good job, but…sometimes he’s too high on his horse.
He smells good, but…sometimes his cologne gives me a headache.
His touch feels good, but…it never feels like he’s truly feeling me. Beyond skin and bone.
I never missed a visit with Roisin in December, on the day she was killed, but it had never felt so important that I go. Maybe it was because I thought Scott was going to propose soon, and I wanted to see if she was going to answer me before he did. She’d been silent all those months since I’d asked.
Apparently, she thought it was wise to send me an Irishman who sent fucking chills up my spine. He showed up and made me feel all weird inside. It was an odd mixture of excitement and fear I’d felt around him—a feeling I’d never forget, but I wasn’t sure why.
Maybe Roisin had sent him as an example of who not to fall for. It made so much more sense.
I had a hard time imagining my brothers around Scott. Around Kelly? They might tackle him at the door. The phrase “Fighting Irish” had nothing on me and mine. Though, judging by Kelly’s size, and something about the set of his face, he wasn’t a stranger to a good brawl either.
Why was I still thinking about the bastard anyway? I should’ve told him to go to hell, but something told me he’d already been there, and he had frequent flyer miles.
A knock came at my bedroom door. Before I could answer, Sierra peeked her head inside. She was my roommate, and even though we were total opposites, our rooming worked. She paid her rent on time. She minded her own business. And, the best part: she was gone eighty percent of the time.
“You have company,” she said.
I nodded, taking the picture of Roisin and me at our last birthday party together and slipping it back into the old hatbox I kept it in. Sierra usually didn’t ask questions, but who knew when she might start. If I couldn’t talk to Mari about Roisin, there was no way I’d talk to Sierra about her.
Just in time, too, because Mari replaced Sierra in the doorway. Like magic, Mari never missed seeing me on the day Roisin was killed. She had no idea, yet she seemed to sense something was off with