Page 32 of Troubles

“I know. I think maybe…I wasn’t ready for the excitement part? I don’t want to be sad about such an amazing gift, but…it’s bittersweet, yeah? And I’m surrounded by him, but he’s not here. It’s…I don’t know. Maybe I need to move.”

She is surrounded by him. I tried to help her clear some of his things away after the funeral, but it was too soon. I didn’t make it a week before leaving Dublin. Trying to run from the grief.

“You need a holiday, maybe. Go shopping in London. Spend a few days at the beach. Visit a spa. Is that kind of thing okay for you to do?”

Finally, she lets out a laugh. It’s small and sad, but it’s a move in the right direction. “Yeah. I can do those things. I just feel like I should save every penny—I don’t know. And alone? That kind of thing’s not fun alone, Aidan.”

“Don’t worry about the money. I’ll send it to you. Take a girlfriend. Take one of our sisters—Christ, there’s enough of them to choose from.”

We were both from big families, but Lorna and I had been close. Close in age, growing up together we were always running about. At their wedding, I was both the best man and the man of honor.

The last of my whiskey slides down my throat as my thoughts turn to my niece or nephew. “Will you find out whether it’s a boy or a girl?”

“I will. Next month, I think. You could…you could go with me? I miss you, Aidan. Are…are you coming home soon?”

No. Maybe.

Her question asks for answers that I can’t give her right now.

“I don’t know. I’m doing well here. I’m settled.” Torn. I’m absolutely torn. I ran away from Dublin and now—now there’s a reason for me to stay here. “I’ll send you some money. Go somewhere—take care of you and we’ll talk soon, yeah?”

Fucking hell.

I log on to my bank account and send a good chunk of money to Lorna. Enough for a holiday and some extra to help ease the expense of setting up for a baby—or to help ease my conscience. I want to stay. I want to see what this is with Lisbeth. I want a chance at the happiness my brother and Lorna had—just no tragic ending.

Jimmy eases out the door and joins me with the bottle of whiskey resting at his side. “Was that Lorna, then?” He pours a good measure for each of us. “She tell you, finally?”

“She did.”

The street light illuminates the amber liquid as I swirl it around my glass. Legs stretched out in front of me, I lean my head back against the side of the building and close my eyes. Jimmy lowers himself down next to me and waits. Patiently. He nods and sips his whiskey as I fill him in on all that Lorna and I talked about.

“What are you goin’ to do?” He shifts his eyes from the faint smattering of stars barely visible above us to my face. Gaging where my head is. “Are you leaving? Goin’ back home?”

The question sucks just as bad the second time I’m asked it tonight. “I don’t know.”

Aidan

“Aidan, I’m…I’m pregnant.” Even knowing the words are coming doesn’t prepare me for the level of devastation in her voice. “I’m… I don’t know what to do.” Lorna’s words are nearly drowned out by her tears.

“Lorna, love, shhh…it’s okay.” It’s okay. It’s good, really.

Weaving through people, I make my way back to my car and lean up against the side, clinging to the hope that I can sort this quickly and get back to Lis.

“It’s not, Aidan. I can’t do this alone. This was supposed to happen with Michael, not by myself. I’m all alone.” She’s sobbing, now. Unable to catch her breath, she hiccups through the miles and my heart breaks all over again.

Resigning myself to the fact that I’m not spending my time with Lis tonight, I get in the car and head home, hoping the flat is empty or at least quiet. It might be time to think about getting my own place.

“Lorna, you’re not alone. You’ve your parents and mine. You’ve family and people who love you within arm’s reach. And now—now you have a piece of Mick too. This is what you wanted. What you both hoped and prayed for. Shhh…you’re alright.” Hearing her devastation through the phone and not being there to make her a cup of tea, hold her hand while she cries, is so much harder than I thought it would be.

We’d spent the two weeks from Michael’s diagnosis to his death in a shocked version of that. Holding on while letting go. I’d been scheduled to leave on assignment when he’d called and asked me to come over. The whole thing was unreal. Cancer sucks.

“Lorna…Lorna,” Not sure she can even hear me through her tears, I call to her softly, trying to soothe her, trying to calm her. It’s late in Dublin. There’s a good possibility she’ll end up crying herself to sleep. And then what? Christ.

I’d needed the space, distance, from his death to get over the shock. To grieve. But I’d not thought or planned for this. This may well be too much to talk through on the phone.

Heading straight through the flat to the kitchen, I pause to stare out the window. The neighbor’s kids play in their garden. Heart heavy in my chest, I reach for a beer, opt for a whiskey, and go sit out on the deck. The warm humid air even feels sad wrapped around me.

“Will you talk to me? I need you to talk to me, just like before, like we did a couple months ago. Teacht anois.” Come now.

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