‘It depends on the day.’ My voice was tight.
‘Is this too hard?’ he asked. ‘Should we stop?’
‘But it’s why we’re doing it – to try to make it more bearable?’ A drop of rain splashed onto my hand and I decided to ignore it. ‘Mostly I love being around kids.’
‘I love them too.’ He stared out over the water, his expression dreamy. ‘Their possibility … When I first moved to Denver I just wanted to sit in the playground and watch them on the climbing frames and the swings … But the moms called the cops on me.’
‘Seriously? God. And how are you with kids these days? Any better?’
‘Only so much healing can be done. It would be wrong to be cured. I saw a person, you know, a counsellor, in Denver. I thought if I went for long enough, that the weirdness would stop. I feel like …’ He gestured with his hands. ‘Like one of my legs is shorter than the other. Moving through life, I feel … off. I thought the counselling would make both of my legs the same length again.’
‘It didn’t?’
‘But I can still walk. The loss will always be there but these days I don’t notice as much that I’m different from everyone else. And you, Rachel? You seem okay. Quin seems like a good guy.’
‘Quin is great.’ Because Quin was great.
‘What have you done with your share of her ashes?’ Luke asked.
‘I planted a small tree in my garden.’ Another drop landed. Several dark dots were visible on the stony ground. ‘A cherry blossom.’
‘Wait, you’re a gardener now?’ Then, ‘Is it raining? It was sunny thirty seconds ago.’
‘Oh?’ Suddenly I was far too angry. ‘It doesn’t rain in Denver?’
‘Hardly ever.’
‘Well, you’re in Ireland now. Anyway, it’ll stop in a minute.’
Irritatingly, though, it didn’t. The Irish weather had decided to show me up. As the unexpectedly cold rain began to tip down in earnest, I said, ‘Let’s go.’
He turned up the collar of his coat, I slung my scarf around my hair and we began crunching back the way we’d come.
‘You know what just happened?’ he demanded. ‘I felt anxious. About your hair going frizzy in the rain.’
‘It’s not your responsibility any more.’ Technically it had never been, but back in the days when he’d loved me, my concerns had been his.
‘Shows how deep the programming goes,’ he muttered.
As we said goodbye at my car, I blurted, ‘Luke, the memories aren’t all sad. Remember us painting her nursery? We were so happy then. That was real.’
He blinked and put a hand on the crown of his head. ‘God. Just got a … déjà vu or something.’
‘I know what came after was horrific, but we need to remember the good parts as well as the rest.’
He nodded. ‘And I’m glad you’re okay now. Really glad.’ Startling me, he took my chilled hand between both of his and pressed his lips into my palm. His eyes met mine – then he stuttered, ‘Sorry.’ Letting my hand drop like a stone, he said, ‘More déjà vu. I don’t know what I was … Sorry. Thank you for today.’ He turned towards his bike, got on and roared away.
Mystified, I watched him disappear, the heat of his mouth still warming my skin. What had that been about? Maybe that was how they said goodbye in Denver? Like, obviously, though, it wasn’t.
It was all so confusing. Yesterday he’d seemed willing to accept blame but today he’d been angry. Right up until he’d done the Denver Goodbye.
Now I was exhausted. Now I was ready to fall asleep on the spot.
The moment I got home, I slid gratefully into bed and slept until 5 p.m. – and woke up to discover that an Emergency Committee Meeting had been called in response to Mum’s threats to invite Luke to the party.
55
Immediately I rang Claire. ‘She can’t do it.’ I was adamant. ‘Absolutely not.’
‘I know, babes.’
‘The thought of Luke showing up at a Walsh family party is making me feel sick. Having to stand around eating cheese-on-a-stick in a function room in a three-star hotel while sixteen of Mum’s bitchiest sisters say, “No wonder he ran away.” I can’t!’
‘Got your back, babes.’
But red-faced and bullish, Mum held the line. ‘Yesterday you went to Brian Costello’s birthday party! What’s the difference?’