“You can be lonely even with the people you love.” Don’t I know it.
He just nods and the moment we get near the cottage, he gestures weakly to the falconry mews. “Padraig said you’ve taken an interest. Said ye wanted me to teach ye.”
“Only if you have the strength.”
“Bah, I’ll make the strength if it’s for the birds. I miss them ye know. The hawk, Clyde, he’s a real wanker sometimes but he’s a brilliant sight when he flies. I don’t know what will happen to him when I’m gone. Nan can’t live forever. What happens then?”
“I’ll make sure we take care of them. Which is why there’s no better time for me to learn.”
He reaches over and pats my cheek. “Yer a real angel, aren’t ye? I must say, it gives a tired, cranky old man like me some peace to know that you’ll be joining the family. We need strong women like yerself.”
He disappears inside and closes the door.
Once again, I’m torn up inside, my gut feeling like shredded paper.
I almost didn’t want his father to like me. I didn’t want him to have any emotional attachment to me and I certainly didn’t want any attachment to him.
Seems it’s too late for that now.
17
Padraig
“Padraig?”
Valerie’s soft, sweet voice infiltrates my dreams, the one thing these days that’s guaranteed to open my eyes. She makes me want to face the world when all I really want to do is crawl into my darkness and never come out.
I open my eyes and see her sitting on the side of the bed, her bed. It takes me a moment to recognize that. Fucking hell, I was too tired to even go down the stairs and have a nap in my own bedroom.
“How are you feeling?” she asks, leaning in and gently brushing her fingers across my forehead. She feels like an angel.
My mouth is parched and I have trouble swallowing. “Fine. I think I need some water.”
“Stay there,” she says, going into her en suite and bringing out a glass of water. I sit up, carefully, my head feeling heavy, and take the glass from her, nodding my thanks. “It’s the medications,” she says as I drink. “They give you dry mouth.”
She’s been reading up on them, reading up on everything related to MS ever since we got back from the doctor. So far, dry mouth is the only thing that the medications seem to give me. The anti-depressants, which isn’t only for my mood but is supposed to help a range of symptoms, won’t kick in for a few weeks and the other pills only seem to work minimally when I have pain.
It’s frustrating, but to say that is an understatement.
Even in the last few days, my fatigue has increased ten-fold. My balance issues only happen sporadically and I have yet to fall over again like I did with Hooter and my leg spasms at night have calmed a bit. But this weakness, this tiredness, it hits me like we’re in a boxing match, wears me out until I’m down for the count. You can only fight it for so long.
I think my nan knows something is wrong. She’s noticed me napping and commented several times on how tired I look and that perhaps I should take Valerie to the Mediterranean for some sun, knowing I’m not going anywhere now, not with my dad like he is.
But I don’t want to tell her yet. I will. I’ll have no choice. I just hope that until my dad goes, that I can keep up appearances.
And that’s all I’ve been doing, isn’t it? Just keeping up appearances. Pretending that Valerie is my fiancé. Trying to be a good son even though I’m anything but.
I stare at the glass of water in my hands for a moment, almost willing my hand to shake, daring it. But it remains steady. I drink the rest of it down and look at Val.
“I guess my plan of sleeping through the engagement party didn’t work?” I ask.
She laughs softly. “No. And guess what? There is no party.”
“What?”
“Well, there is but we’re the only guests. They didn’t invite anyone. They just wanted to have a fancy dinner with us to celebrate. What a relief, huh?”
“Fuck yeah it’s a relief.” Instead of having to make it through forced conversation with strangers and townsfolk, I just have to deal with my family like I’ve been doing every day.
“But,” she says, tapping her fingers along my arm.