Running Back nyl-2

by Allison Parr

  Thirty-one teams didn’t win the Super Bowl every year. And the next season, they all went out and tried again.

  My heart would ache if I never found Ivernis. But even if I never found it, even if my heart hurt, I would still come back here if it meant I was with Mike.

  Because that was really all there was to it. I loved Mike. I couldn’t promise that I would love him in two years, or seven, or twenty. But right now, I loved him more than my lost city.

  And I knew that by the time it ended, we might be so entwined that I wouldn’t be able to separate from him completely, and I would just have to cut off a whole part of myself, and that I would bleed when that happened. But right now I just didn’t care. Because I agreed with the poets, that it was better to have loved...

  I kept shoveling. The sun moved; the mist came and went. We ate and laughed and napped. Pete told me about the calf born that morning. MacCarthy admitted he was considering moving to Dublin. Three-thirty came and went, and people started to get antsy. I considered calling the day early. Mike was only here two more days. Might as well spend every last second I could with him.

  Or maybe I’d go home with him.

  “Natalie!”

  Across the field, Simon Daly waved frantically, jumping up and down and shouting my name. “Come look!”

  I dropped my shovel and started to run.

  His unit was a massive ten by five, and they’d shoveled about two feet down. Most of the workers stood along of the edges of the unit, but I jumped right in with Simon. Mike and Jeremy weren’t far behind me. “What’d you find?”

  Simon moved aside and gestured. “Practically broke my shovel. It’s rock. Big, solid rock, but I don’t think its bedrock yet, because look here, I hit the edge and it curves real nice.”

  I looked at the other corners of the unit, which didn’t show a hint of stone. “I don’t think it’s bedrock, either. But the survey didn’t pick up anything here—oh, of course.” We were in the north-west quadrant of the site, where the soil make-up had been moist enough that the radar had only penetrated a few centimeters. “It wouldn’t have. All right. It might just be a boulder. Still—Colin, get a whiteboard and write down the time and date and longitude and latitude and add an arrow north. Anna, get the camera.” I arranged the whiteboard with trembling fingers and then stepped back and took several snapshots.

  I took one of white-faced Jeremy for good measure.

  And then I jumped into the unit and started digging, and so did Jeremy, and then came Grace and Duncan. And slowly, slowly, the dirt vanished and a capstone appeared, and then, layer by layer, more stones, backstones, purposefully placed to hold the first, a subsurface burial tomb.

  I met Mike’s eyes.

  And then I sat down and started to laugh and cry.

  * * *

  That night the rain hammered down like the seventh Chapter of Genesis. But our floral room was cozy. The lamps cast warm pools of light and the room smelled like Earl Grey and bergamot.

  Mike and I stayed warm and cozy under the blankets. I leaned against him and let out a content sigh. “I’m so happy. We’ll have funding, we’ll have things to excavate...” It shocked me, how much the weight disappeared. Now we didn’t even need the reporter’s article—we’d saved ourselves. “And thank God, because everyone kept talking to me about all their plans—about catering business, and Eileen about expanding the inn, and O’Malley wants to get a set dinner done, and Tim’s brother, the carpenter, wants to build protective structures.” I laughed. “I’d tried to resign myself to finding nothing—I’d pretty much done it—but now I feel like the whole world has realigned and everything is right again.”

  “And you know what the best part is?” Mike murmured.

  “That we found Ivernis?”

  He pulled me closer. “That if you’re not out searching for other sites that might be Ivernis, you’ll be able to come back to New York in the off-season.”

  My chest fluttered. He wanted me with him. I wanted to be with him. “Hey.” I propped myself up on my elbow and looked down at Mike. “Something I want to tell you.”

  He traced my brows, my cheeks, my lips, his forefinger brushing lightly over sensitive skin. I caught my breath and he smiled. “What?”

  I pressed a kiss to his finger, then to the skin behind his ear. With my hand resting on his chest, I could feel the shudder that ran through him, and I smiled and drew back.

  An arm’s length away, my phone buzzed. I glanced at it, hesitated, and then sighed. “It’s my mom.”

  “Resist.”

  “No, I should see what it is.”

  And the odd note in Mom’s voice made me glad I’d picked up, as did her almost timidity when she asked if I had time to talk. “Of course. Just—” I glanced at Mike, and then grabbed at my sweatshirt, making an apologetic moue. He waved his hand and gathered his things instead, and quietly shut the door behind him. “Okay, tell me what’s wrong.”

  She led up to it with all the little lines about how irritating Dad was, lines that I thought meant nothing, and finished with, “So I’m moving out.”

  The entire world blanked. I forgot how to breathe or see, and then I wanted to babble in overtime to make up for the seconds I’d lost. “Are you sure? When did you decide?”

  “About ten years ago. Honey—I know this is going to be hard for you—”

  I tried not to let her hear me hyperventilating. “Me? No. I’m an adult. Are you okay?” Of course she wasn’t okay.

  Oh my God, I couldn’t believe Mom would leave Dad.

  She sounded like she doubted my adulthood. “I know, but it’s still hard for children—even grown ones—to handle divorce.”

  Divorce? Whoa, I’d been thinking separation. “Have you—have you tried couple’s therapy?”

  “Yes. Honey—this has been a long time coming.”

  I knew that. I just didn’t think it would ever actually arrive. “But why didn’t you do it years ago?”

  She sounded like her heart was breaking. My heart was breaking. “I don’t know. I didn’t want to until you were out of the house. Until you’d found your feet. And—maybe I’d forgotten about being happy.”

  “And—what. No. Mom. Paris? That’s just rose-colored glasses. I mean, it was Paris. And you were eighteen. Of course it’s beautiful in hindsight.”

  “Well, I want it back. I think I deserve it.”

  Shit, I was a crap daughter. “Of course you do. You do.” I swallowed. “Will you be okay?”

  “Of course! I’ll be fine. Cheryl’s letting me stay with her while I look for a place.”

  My eyes widened. “Wait, when are you leaving?”

  “That’s why I wanted to call you. This weekend.”

  I went silent for long enough that she had to say my name. I took a breath and forced out the question. “Did you ever think this would happen? In the beginning?”

  Her silence almost rivaled mine. “Never.”

  I watched the rain.

  “Because you loved him.”

  “So, so much. Don’t doubt that, Natalya. I loved him with every part of my soul.”

  * * *

  Mike knocked and walked back in while I sat curled in the window seat, staring out at the drizzle. “What’s wrong?”

  I looked up, but it took a moment for Mike to come into focus. “My mom’s moving out.”

  He stopped. “Wow.”

  I stared at the murky green mess. “It’s surreal. I guess since they were unhappy forever—it was the status quo. I didn’t think it would ever change.”

  “Then I guess it’s brave of her.”

  “Yeah.” I straightened. “Oh my God. How is she going to survive? She’s always had someone to take care of her.”

  “Well, she is an adult.”

  “Yeah, I know.” My gaze went back to the rain and then I sighed.

  “What had you wanted to tell me earlier?”

  The rain was no longer friendly; the lights no longer warm. Or at l
east I couldn’t feel it. “I don’t know.”

  “I thought—I thought maybe you wanted to talk about afterward. Since I’m going home on Sunday.”

  No, Mike. Not now. I didn’t want to talk about afterward because there was no afterward. Because things ended. They ended, and they were buried, and they were lost forever. That was the only forever.

  I heard him take a step closer to me, and the ghost of his reflection showed in the darkened window. “I wanted to tell you something too.”

  I shook my head, my arms holding my knees against my chest.

  His hand curved over my shoulder. “Natalie, look at me.”

  I closed my eyes.

  “I’m leaving tomorrow. Training camp starts soon.”

  “I know.”

  “Natalie.”

  Slowly, I turned and looked at him. He knelt before me and took my hands between his. His eyes were warm and bright and steady, just like they were every time he looked at me. I felt muddled—my heart felt so full, but like tight vines constricted it, and I couldn’t breathe.

  He traced the counters of my cheek and jaw. His mouth crooked up in my favorite smile. “Natalie. I love you.”

  My chest felt like it exploded, like there were shards of metal and air and everything was dizzy and messy. I kept my eyes on his like they anchored me, like I’d spin away if I let go, carried off until I vanished from existence.

  He loved me.

  And I loved him. I loved him with every part of me, just like my mother had loved my father.

  My breathing came faster, and Mike must have known something was wrong by the furrow of his brows. “Natalie?”

  The words broke out of me, the wrong ones. “But it doesn’t last.”

  The furrows increased. “What?”

  I clutched his hands, desperately trying to make him understand. “Love doesn’t work. It just never works.”

  I could feel him draw away. His face shuttered, the mask I hadn’t seen in so long falling back in place. He shifted his balance so his whole body leaned away from mine. “So you don’t love me.”

  “No, Mike, I—” My throat convulsed and I had to pause and work back tears. “Mike—nothing lasts forever.”

  He stood slowly. “I should finish packing.”

  I followed him to the door, still unable to make any words come out. I couldn’t process. I couldn’t think. This was going too fast. I needed to make him understand that I did love him. But my throat wouldn’t work and my lips wouldn’t move, and when they finally did, nothing useful came out. “Mike, stop. I’m not saying—we’re still—This isn’t it, right?”

  He stopped, his shoulders ram rod straight, and then he turned. The smile had vanished, and his eyes were so bright I almost believed it came from a sheen of tears. “I don’t think you get it. I didn’t want to date you. I wanted... Forever. Which you don’t believe in.” He took my face in his hands, and pressed his lips to mine. He tasted like salt and wind. Mine.

  Then he walked out the door.

  And I slumped to the ground and said to the wall, over and over, I love you. I love you. I love you.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  It’s not exactly easy to say goodbye to someone you’re utterly, madly in love with, especially after they’ve given up on you.

  I went with the O’Connors to the airport, except for Anna, who was staying to work on the dig. Kate was very sweet, and Lauren left me with strict instructions. “Don’t let Eileen’s granddaughter hook up with Paul. Or if it happens, don’t tell me. And tell him that I’m leading a wonderful, happy, fulfilled life.”

  Mike and I lingered off to the side for a moment. I cleared my throat and smiled. This wasn’t supposed to be tearful or heartfelt. I leaned up on my toes and kissed him.

  It was supposed to be a quick goodbye, but his hands slid around my back, around my head, holding me to him as he deepened the kiss. His tongue swept into my mouth. He was hungry and demanding. His hands clenched my body. I clutched him back, gasping, pressing ever inch of my body against his, wanting everything. Wanting him.

  And then he stepped back. “So.”

  I didn’t want him to leave me. “So.”

  He started to say something twice. And then he stopped, and gave me the real smile, my crooked smile, and then he left.

  * * *

  For the next two weeks, I drowned out my negative emotions by surrounding myself with the euphoria of success. Each day brought a new discovery. A bronze box with carbonized human remains. Dozens of beads. A kiln. Everything was carefully photographed and washed and categorized, while we sent off samples for radiocarbon dating. If we were lucky, they’d come back with dates around the turn of the millennia.

  So for two weeks, it was like I had imagined this summer would be. Digging and discovery, joking with the crew, soccer games and visiting small towns on the weekends, nights at the pub with Jeremy.

  It was all less than it had been when Mike was here.

  When the rain came in full force, and school started back up, we covered up the units with tarps and filled them in and closed up the site for the school year. We took all of our carefully collected objects and sent them off to the university and labs.

  And we worked on our paper.

  * * *

  Back at home, football season began. Anna left Ireland for her senior year of high school I dragged Paul into Cork to watch the games with me, because it was too pitiful to have the local pub put on the channel just for me. That inevitably meant everyone would come ask how we were and why hadn’t Mike proposed and I didn’t want to smile all the time. At least Paul would just sit there and drink his black pint and let me wallow in peace.

  Grace and Duncan went back to their university, from which they could work remotely. Grace, to my shock, drew me aside before leaving. “You should know that just in case Jeremy leaves, we aren’t. We’ll work here as long as there are things to find and funding to find them. Duncan and I want to work here as long as we have funding. Which shouldn’t be a problem. But just know that you can come back if you want.”

  So that was kind of nice.

  The reason she’d said it was less nice.

  We’d found so much. I was so thrilled. But we hadn’t found anything to support Ivernis. And I didn’t think we were going to.

  Especially after we got the radiocarbon dates back.

  I found Jeremy alone in his room on the first Friday in September, studying photos and papers. I closed the door quietly behind me, and he looked up with the frown that seemed to be engraved on his face these days. He slid a packet across the table.

  I swallowed, reading the results in his eyes. Still, I took the papers out.

  500 CE.

  My gut clenched. My words came out as a whisper. “What are we going to do?”

  He didn’t meet my gaze, just kept looking between his papers, pen occasionally trailing ink. “We’re going to keep looking.”

  “Here?” I shook my head slowly. “I don’t know.”

  “Not here.

  But what about this site? I thought of Maggie, and Anna, of the Wójcik siblings, of Simon Daly. Of the tourists they hoped to bring, the jobs they wanted to create. I thought about the lay of Ireland in 500 CE, of the Gaelic period and the transition to Christianity and the warring kingdoms that stretched across the island. “There’s still something here.”

  Now he finally raised his head. “We’re not looking for something. We’re looking for Ivernis. We’re looking for real, tangible proof of the connection between Rome and Ireland. I thought that was what you wanted too.”

  Of course it was. “So what are we going to do?”

  He sighed. “Try again.”

  But what about the people here? Could I leave them for a dream, no matter how vivid? What about the site, the box, the beads?

  But what about Ivernis?

  “Jeremy—don’t you feel—There’s still a site here. There’re still people who want to work on it.”

  H
e stood. “Then they can work on it themselves. Find another archaeologist who will lead them in another season. We have more important things to find.”

  I sat back uncertainly. “I don’t know. Don’t you think we should stay here another season or two?”

  “Natalie.” He sat down beside me, and placed his hands on my arms. “You can’t give up your dream just because you’re afraid of hurting people. So they’ll be upset for a minute. Then they’ll get over it. You can’t let a week of discomfort stop you from what you really want to do in your life.”

  “But—Jeremy, I’m not sure what I want anymore.”

  He frowned. “You’ve known what you wanted since you were seventeen years old. You’re just—confused right now. You had a complicated relationship with O’Connor. Don’t stay here just because you’re trying to hold on to him somehow.

  That made sense. “But...”

  “Natalie. You’re thinking too emotionally. Just take some time to reflect. Make sure you’re thinking about your dreams.”

  But I’d always thought with my heart. My heart had always said to look for Ivernis, while everything logical sent me elsewhere. “I’ll think.”

  He hugged me when he left. “You’ll make the right decision. I know you will.”

  I smiled a little sadly. Because to him, the right decision was clearly marked by Roman writing, and to me, that might no longer be so.

  * * *

  The week was ugly.

  I didn’t know what to do.

  If I didn’t go with Jeremy, was I giving up? Or was going tantamount to chasing rainbows? Were the only people who found pots of gold those who sat by a river for months on end and mined it?

  I wanted to talk to Mike about it.

  I wanted to badly enough that my heart ached, that my head spun, that I picked up the phone a dozen times and wondered and worked myself into a fit. I talked to Cam, of course, but she just wanted me to do what would make me happy, and I had no idea what that was. I couldn’t talk to Jeremy and I wasn’t close enough to any of my other professors.

  But I didn’t talk to Mike, because I already knew what I wanted to hear from him. I wanted a reason not to go with Jeremy, because if I wasn’t canvassing Ireland looking for a site, it would be much easier for me to go to New York and stay there until the next field season. And if I was in New York, maybe I could see Mike. Because even if we couldn’t be together because he needed someone who didn’t only see the end of things—he deserved someone who didn’t only see the end—maybe we could be friends.