Unmarked: Sean's Story (Chosen #4) (8 page)

“Really?” she asked.

“No,” I whispered. “I want you to want to tell me about you – good and bad. I think I should tell you some things about me, too.”

“We just met,” she said.

“I know.” I knew that and I hated that. It didn’t make any sense. I had known other girls for way longer and never had the need to put myself totally out there for them to criticize or get turned off. With Aoife, it was sort of immediate. I would show and tell her everything about me – good and bad and I knew without hesitation that she would not only love me but admire me even more than she did right now. Was that instant love? Was that instant anything? What did I have to lose with Aoife? I take that back – what did I have to lose besides her?

“Is it too soon to tell our secrets, Sean?” Even though she used a whispering tone, her whole body implored me for an answer,
the
answer. It was as if I knew what the rules for us were. I was fully aware that she had much depth and history to her life.

I stared at her and I wanted to plead, adamantly explain why it wasn’t too soon for us to know everything we could about each other. If there were some way to drill something into her head that would provide me with a narrative of everything she had been through I would rather have done that – perhaps in her sleep – so I didn’t have to look at the saddened fear she had as she waited for my response.

“I can’t answer that, Aoife. I want to say no because I only get you for a couple of months and then… who knows what will happen. I want to say no because you are the first girl I have ever wanted to dump all of my garbage out in front of. I trust you. I think I need to tell you everything or I won’t be doing this friendship or relationship justice. What are secrets to us anyway? What will they do to us? We already have thousands of miles up against us.”

“I will tell you what is going to happen,” she answered me with a sad smile, two tears falling out of one eye.

“Tell me,” I urged, closing in towards her and reassuring her that I was not going to run.

“You will stay in America and keep your shop going. One day, you will marry a beautiful woman and have bloody brilliant children. Oh, Sean! Those kids will be so gorgeous.” She covered her eyes again and I took her hands away.

“And you? What is going to be your life story?” I choked out because I knew it wasn’t the pretty fairy tale she had painted for me. Was she trying to convince me of a happily ever after? Didn’t she know that in that moment I was the happiest I had been in years?

A humorless laugh filled my bedroom. “I will return to Wicklow and take care of my family. I will obviously continue to go to school and to work. I will take the hour long bus ride in and out of the city every morning and every night. On those rides, I will think of the one great summer I had in America with a fucking amazing man named Sean Ford.”

“No hot Irish man to have babies with?” I tried to crack a smile but it literally hurt me to say that. I didn’t know why I felt like I was drowning because she was right. I had only just met her but the fuck of it was that I felt like I had known her, was waiting for her, was never not going to know her.

She shrugged. “I suppose there is a chance I will meet a nice man in Ireland but really it is not likely. I live in the Council Estates, my da is a drunk, and the men I have managed to date were not impressed by my social class.”

“Council Estates?” I urged but what I really wanted to know if her father, the drunk, was the one to put those massive scars on her stomach. I had seen it before.

Cutting. The woman I had dated a few years ago cut, but she did it on her legs, not her torso. Aoife’s cuts were fucking much deeper. They weren’t the same. This felt abusive not self sabotage.

“Ah. Council Estates is a place for people who don’t make enough money to have their own home. Ireland offers it to many people with disabilities and stuff like that. We moved there after my mam had died. Ireland has a long wait list now but back then, when she died, we were able to move in very quickly.”

“So it is like Section Eight living here in the States,” I pondered. “My dad died of lung cancer but he wasn’t with my mother when he died. She moved down to Rhode Island and lives in a trailer park there. She has a pretty big drug problem that I no longer will give her money for.”

That was
my secret.
No one knew about her or even where she lived. Then again, no one ever asked what happened to my mom. Lizzie knew that she was alive but she didn’t talk much about her parents when we hung out. When we were younger and mom wasn’t hooked on cocaine, Lizzie and my mother did adore each other. Lizzie would stay over at our house near Newton.

At that time, Mom was a professional and well known as one. She had been diligent and hard working, commuting into Boston every week day. She made good money back then and we had a decent, comfortable home. When she was introduced to drugs, specifically cocaine, and her life fell apart. The only thing I can be grateful for was Lizzie had already moved to Oregon. She fell apart after my friends dispersed so no one was closely watching my mom deteriorate. I put all my dreams into my apprenticeship and made a name for myself in Newburyport. I think my mother’s hard working characteristic taught me that we had to fight for what we get. It was devastating to see her throw it all away for an eight ball.

“Your mam lives in Rhode Island? Is that close?” she asked, obviously trying to turn the conversation over to me.

“Yeah,” I said, as I put a small curl behind her ear.

“Can we visit her while I am here this summer?” she urged. I squinted my eyes at her to show that I didn’t understand. Her father was a drunk. My mother was a drug addict. Did she like to hang out with those types of people? Who the fuck was this girl?

“Why?” I asked, completely puzzled now.

“I want to meet your mam. I can picture her in my head, you know? I want to see if she is what I think she looks like.” She looked at me and then looked away, smiling at the wall. I thought about her mother and what sort of relationship she might have had with her but I didn’t ask. I was so tired of the “what if’s” in life. I needed to be in action mode. I was tired of waiting for someone else to make my life happen. It was my turn to take the wheel.

I lay down on my bed and stared up to the ceiling. In the past five minutes, I learned a great deal about Aoife. I thought back to my conversation with Lizzie and wondered if I was getting in over my head. Aoife laid her body next to me and eventually she took my hand in hers. Sometime soon thereafter, we both fell asleep, on top of the covers with only our hands touching. I felt like I had lost her already as sleep took me under.

Chapter Fifteen

Sean

The next morning, I smelled coffee and looked over to the other side of the bed to find Aoife gone. I jumped out of my bed and started to walk into the kitchen when I heard her voice, urgent, worried, and of course, speaking in a different language. Gaelic. It was a beautiful language even though she sounded rip roaring pissed off.

“No, Da. I forgot. I will be sending the money tomorrow from Boston. I will make sure your bank gets it.” She changed over to English for a few short lines and I held my head just outside the door so she wouldn’t see me.

This was not okay. I was trying to learn about her through sneaking around? Why hadn’t I just called Lizzie and let her tell me the whole situation. I growled out my frustration as I threw my hands through my hair. I needed to stay focused. I went to the closet and pulled out a white tank top and threw it on. I would casually enter the kitchen as if I hadn’t heard anything.

Silence.

“Da. I know, okay? I know you aren’t feeling well, okay? I am making more money over here and we need the money right?”

Todd came up behind me and watched me watching her.

“You like this one. I don’t blame you. Her accent is hot,” he said, studying her just like I had been only seconds before.

I turned around and gave him the glare.

He held up his hands in surrender. “No worries, Sean. I won’t be asking for her number. She is all yours, but
only
if I can have that chick over from last week. She keeps coming by for you and I am about ready to tell her to fuck me or she isn’t allowed to come around anymore.”

His eyes sparkled as he waited for my answer. Damn. Girls couldn’t keep coming around. Aoife was in my life now – if only for the summer.

I laughed, a bit loud – prompting Aoife to turn her head towards us. She gave me a small wave and started speaking Gaelic again.

“Yeah, go for it, bro.
In fact
, take all the chicks in the world. I think Irish is all I am able to handle at the moment.”

Todd slapped me on the back and went for the coffee machine as Aoife clicked off my cell phone and handed it back to me.

“Sorry, did I wake you up? I had to ring my da,” she explained to me as she held up her flip phone.

“I can put my phone on international and you can call home whenever you want to. It might be cheaper than what you are paying on that. My question is how will I get in touch with you after today?”

Her face lit up. She hadn’t thought I would want to call her?

I put my arms around her and kissed her forehead. “I will be coming to your place tomorrow night to take you out for dinner. Let’s make sure we exchange numbers. Better yet, I should grab you an extra cell from the shop. It would cost a lot less to you and me with the minutes and all that shit.”

Aoife ignored my ideas for a new phone and I could tell she was tamping down her excitement for tomorrow. She was almost vibrating with brilliant anticipation. I knew exactly how she felt. I hadn’t even taken her home and I was already pumped about seeing her again. It was the most fucked up feeling. After a few moments passed, her expression changed to suspicion and her grip on me got a little tighter.

“Why are you taking me out for dinner?” she questioned slowly. Did she think I was mad at her about calling home? The scars on her stomach? Maybe she thought I was mad that she hadn’t spilled her secrets when I so freely spilled mine last night?

Yeah, I was a little upset and I felt like a bit of an idiot. I wanted to know everything about this girl but she was so fucking scared to let me in. I would work on that. I would make sure she knew I was a safe person to talk to.

“Well, Irish. You start a new job tomorrow, right?”

She nodded with a grin on her face. I could tell she was excited to get started at work. I knew in my gut that the girl worked her ass off when she needed to. I thought about the shop and how it was all I had focused on for years. Was she as hardcore at work like I was? Damn it, I would never know everything I wanted to know and didn’t that just fucking blow. I pulled my thoughts back in with a deep inhale.

“That is what we will celebrate your first day at work in America. I have tomorrow night off so I can drive in after you get home and take you out on a proper date,” I said and thought about bringing some damn furniture to her place. We had a few things in the basement we could do without for a couple of months.

“I made coffee,” she said jubilantly as she handed me a cup.

I took a hearty drink from the cup. At first, I gagged on the grounds, trying to catch them while choking down the actual water. It wasn’t just diesel fuel. It was diesel fuel with a bag of potting soil mixed in. I grabbed a paper towel from the counter and started dabbing the grounds from my tongue.

Aoife watched my incredibly embarrassing moment with shock and worry.

“Babe,” I said through the paper towel on my tongue. “How much of the coffee did you put in this?”

She worried her lip and looked at the back of the Green Mountain bag.

“Three cups per T-B-L?” She informed Todd and me as we tried not to outwardly cringe. “I
thought
it was a lot when I put it in because I nearly filled the whole top.”

“Irish…” I started and then shook my head with a smirk. “You are too damn cute for your own good, babe.” I went to the sink, poured half of the coffee out, ran hot water into it, and took another sip.

“Perfect,” I smiled at her and pointed the coffee cup at her. “I take it you don’t drink coffee?”

She shook her head.

“Tea, tea, and then more tea. Buckets of it.
You
don’t have any.” she accused me as she tried to poke my stomach. I grabbed her finger as I helplessly thought about those awful scars under her shirt again.

An odd look flashed across her face and I knew she was thinking about last night, too. We
had
to talk about it today or it would be the giant elephant in the room every time I made love to her. I planned to make love to her very soon. Her eyes pleaded with me. She didn’t want to talk about it.

Todd must have noticed the tension between Aoife and me because he jumped up and went into the pantry. The shithead came out with an old, unopened box of Lipton Tea. I could have fucking kissed him.

“Go nuts,” he muttered to Aoife, as he, too, poured half the coffee out and topped it off with milk.

She nearly squealed as she hugged the box. I smacked her butt and pulled her down on to my lap so I could kiss the back of her neck. She giggled and all the tension from minutes ago was cured by a box of Lipton Tea.

I motioned for Aoife to go fix her tea. She started the water and stood to wait. We stared at each other for long minutes, neither one of us saying anything. It was slightly uncomfortable because I needed one more tea moment so I could catch her in a rare mood. Yet I didn’t think that would matter because Aoife acted like this uncomfortable silence was part of her everyday demeanor. She hid. She hid in the big world of people and she did it on purpose.

I was the exact opposite. My tattoos made me stand out. On some level, I wanted to be seen. I did not hide. Well, that hasn’t been always true. I suppose that I didn’t expose all my cards. I kept a lot to the vest. Aoife was the person you wanted in a terrorist attack interview. The girl would
never
break under any circumstances.

“Are we going to talk about last night?” I asked. Shouldn’t we talk about this thing between us? Was this a relationship? Did we, as a couple, have a shit chance of working, even if it was just for the summer? Pile on the fact that she couldn’t come clean about her life and we were doomed for just one more day. Who was she? This wasn’t physical anymore. This was more. There was more interest, more admiration, and more physical sparks every minute that passed between us.

“I suppose we should,” she decided blandly as she brought her tea up to her lips. I watched her sip the tea, lick her lips, and place the mug ever so gently down on the table.

“Yeah, I think you should start by telling me about the scars,” I said in a hushed tone so Todd couldn’t overhear me. He was already in his bedroom and I heard music playing but I did it so she knew that I was concerned and I was trustworthy. I wasn’t interested in making her scars into a point of conversation. It was her conversation I desired.

She immediately looked around the kitchen like I had said the word “bomb” in an airport.
Fuck
– she wasn’t going to tell me anything.
Nothing
. I should have started off with something about her father and what he did for a living, but I already knew that wouldn’t be a good conversation starter. The guy was a career drinker. Maybe that was be okay in Ireland, in those Council Estates she had talked about, but that shit wasn’t cool with me personally. I had had enough drama with what my own mother had put me through.

Both sets of our parents had screwed us. I wanted to tell her what I knew. I would say,
“Aoife, you want them to love you. You give to them so they give you that one proud smile or word of praise. You rescue them from overdosing and getting arrested because you don’t want them to embarrass themselves anymore. You stopped talking about twelve step programs and detox centers a long time ago. You only pray that one day - there will be a phone call because watching your parent suffer is more painful than never getting those words or the looks of love. That person you expected so much from has killed all of your expectations in life.”

But I didn’t say any of that. I expected that Aoife discerned exactly what I was thinking. If I could say those words out loud to her, would she plead for a ride home? Would she break down and tell me what was happening to her? Would she believe in me enough to save her - because wasn’t that the crux of all of this? I felt compelled to save Aoife Flanagan from her own life.

“I don’t think we should talk about them now. Here,” she answered as she pointed her finger to the table.

“Okay,” I agreed. “When, where?”

“Let me give it to you in bits. If I tell ya everything now, you may be frightened of me or my life so far. No, that isn’t it. You may not think of me the way you do now.”

I grabbed her hand.

“I don’t give a motherfucking shit about what you do back home. I want to hold you and listen to you. I want to be your friend and your lover for as long as I can. I don’t get these feelings - they are so strong for you. I feel like if you don’t tell me, I might want to pound the shit out of something.”

“Wow,” she looked taken aback and giggled a little. “Jesus, Sean, you’re so damn intense.”

I couldn’t help it. I laughed. I
was
intense and I was scaring her off. I wasn’t that easy, chilled out guy she met two nights ago. I was Sean, the fierce protector of all things Aoife. Take it back a notch, buddy. She isn’t fleeing the scene. Not yet anyway.

“Americans don’t like to be homeless. I gathered that from the other night,” she remarked as she took another sip of her tea.

My look of confusion made her smile but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Um…no. Being homeless is probably the worst feeling for many people. I mean, I think some people don’t mind it after a while. There are a lot of homeless in Boston alone, why?” This was not what I was expecting at all. I felt like she was starting off on a totally different topic and left the one I had requested behind. I was slightly irritated by the time I had asked her why.

Aoife took a deep breath and let it out slowly through pinched, tight lips.

“Well, here’s the bit of information that I got for ya now, okay? People in Ireland, where I am from? Being homeless would be a dream compared to staying in their homes. We are the opposite, I imagine. You want to be in the home with your family. Many of us, well my generation, wish we could escape.” Her stare was dead. Serious and strained. She was telling me she would rather live on the streets than in a home with a bed?

“Is that why you are in here in Boston for the summer?” I asked, totally stunned by that revelation. That wasn’t true, it couldn’t be, but she was talking and I wasn’t going to let her stop.

“I came to Boston because the company I work for pays a lot of money and my family needs it. There aren’t many ways for us to make good money, especially while still at the College. I escaped, yes, but I know I am going back.”

“Do you want to go back?” I wondered out loud. Up until now, I had thought she was on sort of a vacation and perhaps I was the token guy that came along with that. Now, I questioned her motives all together.

She shook her head immediately. She didn’t have the look like it was because of me, either. It was as if she had answered this question a million times before she even met me.

“No. I don’t want to live there anymore but it isn’t up to me.” I could tell she was trying to tell me something by adding on the words “to live” but I couldn’t follow. I expected that she had hoped for that confusion on my part, too. It was a game. She was some sort of thoughtful game. I wasn’t following so I tried to ask everything I could to specify her desires.

“But you can’t legally stay here, right?” My chest collapsed into a pile of useless muscle. I couldn’t save Aoife. Shit, I couldn’t save my mother from
her
own private hell. I had to face
that
reality and simply enjoy Aoife for as long as I could.