I refresh my emails over and over again to see if there’s been anything from Minister Brasil’s office. Nothing. I go back through my sent emails: 24 June, 8 p.m. Guest speaker at 8.30 p.m. St Sylvester’s GAA. Yes, I have supplied the office with all the correct details.
Tristan joins me outside, a glass of wine in his hand. Genevieve is just inside the door, looking out at me. I feel like they’ve teamed up to check on me.
Everything okay.
Yeah. Yeah. I feel a trickle of sweat down my back.
You know, Allegra, we’ve been talking, Genevieve and I. We’re here for you.
I appreciate that. Thank you. I refresh my emails again.
If you think that she’s not coming, he says slowly, for any reason, you should probably tell somebody now. You should tell Carmencita before it’s too late. So that she can arrange something else.
My heart is pounding. I don’t think I’ve ever been so nervous. Or confused.
But she has to come, I whisper. She has to. I’ve everything riding on this.
I know. He takes my hand to comfort me.
Excuse me, a voice says loudly and Carmencita bursts out past Genevieve and into the laneway. She pulls me away, roughly, from the open fire exit so that nobody can hear her.
Hey hey, gently now, Genevieve says protectively, trying to remove Carmencita’s pinching grip from my arm.
Where is she, she practically spits in my face. Where is my special guest.
I swallow. Look down at my phone and refresh, refresh, refresh with a trembling hand.
And then I know it’s over.
She’s not coming is she, she shouts.
Tristan looks at me with a face so full of hope that I hate myself so much right now. It’s finished.
I shake my head and finally speak, my voice shaky. I just got word now. The Taoiseach has resigned and uh—
She freaks out. She pushes me against the wall, and I feel a shooting pain in my back. Tristan dives forward and tries to separate us but he doesn’t want to hurt a woman, I can see that.
Fooled me. Liar. Humiliation. Journalists. The whole village is here. Liar. I knew it.
These are the main words that I hear. I see lips. Big glossy lips. The gap in her teeth. Spitting words of hate. Eyes filled with hate. The tight hand on my arm twisting and twisting. I know I will be bruised in the morning. Another hand on my scars. The scars that link my freckles, that link me to Pops, yet I left him to be here with her and I’m still not good enough. My eyes fill as she continues.
Okay okay, Tristan says, firmly now. Him and Genevieve pull her away. You’re hurting her.
Hurting her, ha. I could pull her hair out, her eyes out, she says viciously, then mumbles at me in Spanish. Nothing good.
I’m sorry, Carmencita. I tried. I really did. I wanted you to be proud of me. I wanted you to like me.
So you lied. Like a crazy person. Why would I be proud of this.
No, I say, firmly. I never lied about anything. Let me explain. Please.
Genevieve nervously bites the skin from her nails. I look at Tristan and he nods at me encouragingly. Pull the Band-Aid off quickly. Do it. Tell her. I take a deep breath. It’s now or never. I can’t live with a life of never.
Carmencita, my name is Allegra Bird. I’m your daughter.
She freezes. Literally. She’s not moving, not blinking. I wonder if I should say it again. The first time was difficult enough. I count. One, two, three …
What did you say, she asks, her voice quiet. Not angry. Not cold. It’s encouraging.
My name, Carmencita, is Allegra … Bird. Bernard’s daughter. I moved here to find you.
Nooooooooooo.
She yells it so loudly a few heads peek out of the side exit and Genevieve closes the doors and stands there protectively. She screeches it a few more times, hands to her face, long nails, painted and polished to perfection, like she’s the Wicked Witch of the West melting.
Then she stands up straight and looks at me, dead in the eye. Not a friendly look. And she slaps me across the face. A sting that shocks me.
Hey, Tristan shouts, pulling her away from me, but she’s finished with fighting with me. She only has words left. The slap was easier.
You listen here. Finger in my face. You should never have been born. I should have gotten rid of you. When I think of you, that is all I think about now. That I should have gotten rid of you … I went to him for help, to get rid of you, and he said he would keep you. The biggest mistake I ever made. He was supposed to keep you away from me, do you understand. That was the deal.
Stop, I cry.
Okay, stop now, Tristan says, hands coming across my shoulders, pulling me in. I don’t think she needs to hear this right now.