Page 236 of Dirty Padraig: Dirty Dusters

CHAPTERSEVENTY-NINE

JAINE

Jaine’s Apartment, Upper East Side, New York

It’s beena week since Eoin left for Chicago.

The kids and I went to the park this morning before I dropped them off at Roisin’s for a sleepover. We played on the swings and had a picnic. I found my gaze constantly drifting toward the empty bench. Each time I looked over, I hoped Eoin would be sitting there.

He wasn’t.

I love him. I know better than most that you can’t switch that emotion off. Or at least, I can’t. My love for him is unconditional. I will always love him, even when the day arrives that he no longer loves me. Because one day soon, he will move on. I need to prepare myself for that.

But I’m not sure how to.

We were on and off so many times. I should be used to his absence by now. But I’m not.

It’s deafening.

I miss Mr. Smug. Selfish. Pompous and Mr. Dominating. Dangerous. Deadly. I miss all three hundred and sixty fucking degrees of Eoin O’Connell.

He gave me his blessing to be with Irish. Did he give Padraig the same? I suspect he will have done. In his mind, he fucked up Padraig’s life. To absolve himself of the associated guilt, he left town to allow Irish and me to be together as we were always meant to be. Or at least that’s what I’m reading between the lines.

There should have been another way. This way feels like a death. I’ve been mourning what we had and didn’t have ever since. What we will never have again.

I can’t help but feel responsible for this outcome, but then I guess we’re all of us guilty.

Apart from Irish.

In exchange for doing nothing wrong, first he lost me and then he lost his eldest brother. He’s also been silent for a week. My phone vibrates.

Wiping the tears from my cheeks, I stare at the message.

Speak of the devil.

Padraig:Can I see you, Jaine?

Is it wrong that when I think of moving forward with him, I feel a pang of guilt? That some part of me still thinks I belong to his eldest brother? That I would be betraying Eoin or cheating on him in some way? Irish and I have kissed, but we’ve never gone beyond that in over three years.

Jaine:Where shall we meet?

Padraig:In half an hour. At St. Peter’s.

St. Peter’s Church, Upper East Side, New York

I park my hog on the same grass verge I always do before removing my helmet and staring at the church. It’s the first time I’ve witnessed the utter devastation caused by the fire.

Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath, inhaling the smell of burning that still hangs in the air, its acrid and unpleasant scent an unwelcome reminder of everything that happened before.

I know everyone says that it’s not my fault, but it is. I did this.

A container has been placed to the side of the building. I’m guessing it’s to house the workers. Their short-term contract now extended to theforeseeable future.

There’s no one to be seen.

I look once more at the church. The ancient grey stone walls are still standing, and the spire still stretches into the sky, but the imposing doors have gone, as has the roof. Does that mean the bats have too? A wave of sadness washes over me at the thought of them losing their home. I hope they survived.

I walk toward the only thing that hasn’t changed. The small graveyard with its uneven headstones. I use the time to walk around, reading as many visible inscriptions as I can. The final words spoken between the living and the dead. Some of the departed are old. Some were like Ace. Way too young to die.

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