Where the Love Gets In

by Tara Heavey

  Fiona was looking at her. ‘Oh, I’m sorry. I’m making you uncomfortable.’

  ‘No …’

  ‘Yes, I am. I always do this. Part and parcel of being a doctor, I’m afraid. You get used to talking about physical things that most people find embarrassing in a very matter-of-fact way.’

  ‘That’s no problem, Fiona.’ Sarah felt so bad for this woman, who was clearly reaching out to her in friendship. And she had nothing to give her. She was the problem.

  The irony was that she was always the one her female friends came to in times of man trouble. And here she was, not with a well run dry but one stagnated with guilt. ‘Maybe he’s having a mid-life crisis.’

  ‘Maybe he is. Maybe I am. I don’t know. I’m not certain about anything any more. There was a time when everything seemed so clear. I had a good marriage. I loved being a mother, loved being a doctor. Now the kids have no need for me any more. And as for the medicine, I just feel so jaded by it. I used to have all the time in the world for my patients. Now I can’t get them out of the door quick enough. I’ve even found myself questioning my motives in becoming a doctor in the first place. Did I really have a calling for it, or did I just choose it because it had the highest points, because I was so driven to succeed at something – anything?’

  The doorbell rang.

  ‘I’m sorry, Fiona. I’ll have to get that.’ Sarah practically ran out to the hall. Saved by the bell. She tugged the door open.

  ‘Hello.’ There stood Aidan, soppy grin on his face. ‘I had an hour to spare between sailings. I thought I’d drop in to see if my …’ His smile failed as his wife materialized in the hall behind his mistress. ‘… if my wife had time to join me for a coffee.’

  ‘How did you know I was here?’

  ‘Tadgh Brennan told me he saw you calling in here a while ago.’

  ‘I didn’t see him.’

  ‘Ah, he must have been passing down the other end of the street.’

  ‘Must have been. Yes, I’d love to.’

  Sarah glanced at her. The smile of pure pleasure on Fiona’s face made her feel physically ill.

  ‘I’ll just go and get my jacket. It’s in the kitchen.’

  As Fiona disappeared, Aidan and Sarah looked at each other in dismay. Aidan stepped into the hall.

  ‘What –’

  ‘Not now, Aidan.’

  Her words, her tone, her demeanour, all silenced him.

  ‘Here I am.’ Fiona was back in the hall again, adjusting her jacket and her hair. ‘And look who I brought with me.’

  Maia, who had been playing in the sitting room, stepped out from behind her. Without looking at anyone in particular, she walked up to Aidan and took his hand. Aidan looked back at Sarah involuntarily as Maia led him into the house. The two women followed them into the kitchen. Maia stopped at the table and looked up into Aidan’s face. ‘Dar,’ she said.

  Sarah was on her in an instant. ‘What did you say?’

  Maia ignored her. She continued to gaze up at Aidan. ‘Dar,’ she said again. Then she looked down at the table.

  ‘There. Are you trying to say there, love?’

  ‘I think she means the drawing. She’s trying to show me the drawing.’

  ‘ “Draw” – is it “draw”, Maia?’

  ‘Is she trying to say Star?’ said Fiona, from the other side of the table.

  ‘Dar, dar, dar.’ Maia repeated the word over and over, flapping her hands in an agitated fashion, clearly excited.

  ‘It is Star! Oh, Aidan, she said “Star”.’

  Sarah descended on Maia, an all-encompassing embrace that broke the child’s connection with Aidan.

  ‘Dar,’ she said again.

  ‘Yes, darling, that’s Star – oh, well done.’ She hugged her daughter fiercely and began to cry, tears flowing thick and fast, snot unchecked. This was full-scale, ugly, don’t-care-who’s-watching crying.

  Fiona walked around to the counter, tore off a square of kitchen towel and handed it to her. Sarah took it wordlessly and, continuing to sob, balled it up in her hand.

  Maia stood motionless – emotionless – beneath her mother’s heaving body. ‘Dar,’ she said occasionally.

  Sarah eventually managed to compose herself. She dabbed her face dry and blew her nose noisily. ‘I’m sorry.’ She addressed Fiona.

  ‘Oh, no need to be. It’s perfectly understandable. Now, would you like us to stay?’

  ‘No, no. I’ll be fine. We’ll be fine. More than fine. You go.’

  ‘Okay, then. See you soon.’

  They all walked back to the front door, Aidan a few paces ahead. Fiona grabbed Sarah urgently by the arm, startling her. ‘You won’t let on to Aidan what I was saying earlier?’

  ‘Of course not.’

  ‘Thanks. Right.’ She raised her voice to a normal level. ‘We’ll be off, then.’

  Sarah watched them walk away. Fiona looked back at her and smiled. Then she linked her husband and they disappeared around the corner.

  Chapter 18

  Fiona was once again in possession of that most dangerous emotion – hope. That Aidan would deliberately seek her out to spend time with her when he didn’t have to. Part of her realized how pathetic she was, grateful for the crumbs he’d swept off the table of his affection. Nevertheless, she was still smiling next lunchtime as she browsed through the stalls at the weekly food market.

  It was new to the town – people’s desire for locally grown produce had increased. Furthermore, these markets were fashionable now. Fiona didn’t care too much about that. She was just glad it was there. Today, as she ran her eyes over the myriad shapes and colours on the fruit and vegetable stalls, and considered the vast array of weird and wonderful breads she could take home, it seemed to her that the world was once again alive with possibility and abundance. It helped that the sun was high in the sky, beaming down on the shoppers. Fiona reached out for a plaited loaf, sprinkled with poppy seeds, at exactly the same time as another hand. She laughed when she saw whose it was. ‘Tadgh Brennan! Get your hands off my loaf.’

  ‘Fiona McDaid! As I live and breathe.’

  ‘Haven’t seen you for ages, Tadgh.’

  ‘Haven’t seen you either.’

  ‘You have so. Yesterday afternoon. Aidan told me. Why didn’t you call out to me?’

  Tadgh’s eyebrows knitted and he seemed genuinely puzzled. ‘Yesterday afternoon?’

  ‘Yes. When you saw me going into Sarah Dillon’s house. You told Aidan. Remember?’

  Tadgh looked searchingly at her for a few seconds too long. ‘Oh, the actress. That’s right. I remember it now.’ He tapped his temple with two fingers. ‘Must be going doo-lally in my old age. Anyway,’ he said, with a hunted look, ‘you take the bread. I’m supposed to be laying off the carbohydrates anyway, after what you told me on my last visit.’ He patted his ample belly fondly. ‘Talk about being caught in the act. Take care, Fiona.’

  She watched as he merged with, then disappeared into the crowd. Caught in the act, indeed.

  She brought it up over dinner that night, her tone carefully casual. ‘By the way, I ran into Tadgh Brennan today.’

  ‘Oh, yes? How’s he doing?’

  ‘You should know. You spoke to him yesterday.’

  Fiona’s tone was sharp as her eyes pierced the top of her husband’s head. It remained bent over his plate, although he appeared to stop chewing for several seconds.

  ‘I did, of course. Sure, I only spoke to him for half a minute. We didn’t have an in-depth conversation.’

  ‘Nor did we. Not after it became clear he didn’t have the foggiest idea what I was talking about.’

  ‘Ah. He’s probably just losing his marbles in his old age.’

  ‘That’s what he said.’

  ‘There you go, then.’

  ‘He’s not even fifty.’

  ‘Look, Fiona.’ Aidan put down his knife and fork, as if he was defeated by his dinner, the conversation they were having and life in genera
l. ‘It really doesn’t matter any more. I’m going to bed.’

  ‘Bed! It’s barely seven.’

  ‘I just need to lie down for a while.’

  ‘Are you sick?’

  ‘Just tired.’

  Fiona sprang up, ready to prod and examine him.

  Aidan held up a hand. ‘Leave it, Fiona. I’m grand. At least, I will be. I just need to rest.’ His tone was uncharacteristically weary.

  Fiona frowned. ‘All right. I’ll see you when I come up.’

  His nod was barely perceptible. She listened to his footfalls ascending the stairs, slow and heavy, also uncharacteristic. Maybe he was coming down with something. He’d been remarkably subdued this evening. It was incredible, really. You could be married for years, think you knew your partner, when all of a sudden he presented you with a whole new set of moods to decipher. She sipped her glass of water. No answers came to her. Just more questions.

  Aidan lay on his bed, gazing up at the ceiling. He seemed to have been doing a lot of that lately. He knew every hairline crack. Every secret spider’s web. He screwed his eyes up tight. It was too bright and would be for hours. He longed to be enveloped by thick, blank darkness. Longed to sink into it. The darkness seemed softer, more forgiving. It exposed less. He shielded his eyes with his forearm, this time to block out not the light but the images, the words – the dreadful occurrence of that afternoon.

  He had gone to see Sarah. He’d known she wanted him to stay away, but he’d had to speak to her after what had happened with Fiona. She wouldn’t answer his calls and he was going out of his mind. He had known it was a mistake, but he’d gone anyhow, as if propelled by some inner self-destructive compulsion.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ she hissed. She poked her head out of the door, looked left and right, then rapidly ushered him into the hall.

  ‘I had to come. You wouldn’t answer my calls.’

  She regarded him coolly. A fist of ice gripped his heart. Wordlessly, she turned her back on him and walked into the sitting room. He followed her like a dog. She sat upright on the armchair, not inviting closeness. Her knees were pressed together and her hands were clasped tightly on her lap. It was as if she were trying to hold herself together. Maia was in her corner, playing with a toy car that Aidan had given her just a few days before, when everything was different. It was an old one of Tommy’s he’d found knocking around. Maia acted as if she hadn’t seen him. She was holding the car in the air and, with one tiny finger, spinning a back wheel repeatedly. Aidan had seen her do this before. She could keep it up indefinitely. He forced his eyes back to Sarah. He didn’t like what he saw. She was deliberately avoiding his gaze and it was clear she wanted him gone.

  ‘Sarah. What happened yesterday. It was a one-off.’

  ‘She thinks I’m her friend.’ She almost yelled it. He’d never seen her like that before. It shocked him. Sarah got up and paced the room, her composure shot to pieces. ‘I’m not doing this any more, Aidan. It’s wrong.’

  ‘But we’ve been through this before …’

  ‘I don’t care. I’m not doing it any more. Not doing it to her. It’s wrong.’

  All he could do was stare at her in desperation. It wasn’t as if he could deny that she was speaking the truth. She stopped and turned to him, her eyes unnaturally bright, her wig lopsided, her body trembling. She’d clearly worked herself into quite a state. ‘Don’t you care about your own wife? Are you really that heartless?’

  ‘Of course I care about her. It tears me up inside, the thought of causing her any pain.’

  ‘Well, you needn’t feel torn up any more because I’m ending it now.’

  ‘Sarah …’

  ‘Now, Aidan. Now.’

  Aidan cradled his head in his hands. They were quiet for a while, she hugging herself and looking out of the window. He spoke to her back. ‘This is just your guilty conscience talking.’

  She rounded on him. ‘Too right it’s my conscience and too right it’s guilty. So it should be. And so should yours.’ She let out a short, humourless laugh. ‘You know, I used to consider myself a feminist. I went on marches to support women’s rights, for fuck’s sake. What about Fiona’s rights?’

  ‘What about our right to be happy?’

  ‘Can you really build your happiness on somebody else’s misery? Because I can’t. You and Fiona were perfectly happy before I came along.’

  ‘That’s a matter of opinion.’

  ‘Well, it’s my opinion. And it’s also my opinion that you can be happy again once I’m out of the picture.’

  ‘You’re not leaving?’

  She sighed. ‘No, I’m not. Although I’ve thought about it. It would be a lot simpler if I did. But how can I leave now that Maia is making such good progress?’

  ‘And have you thought about Maia in all of this?’

  ‘What do you mean?’ She seemed unsure of herself for the first time.

  ‘You know what I mean. What about the bond she’s formed with me?’

  ‘She hasn’t –’

  ‘You know she has, Sarah. Yesterday when she took my hand – has she ever done that with anyone else?’

  ‘She –’

  ‘Apart from you?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Well, then.’

  ‘Look, it’s unfortunate. But that’s the way it’s got to be. I’m warning you, Aidan. Don’t make me take Maia away from Star. Not now.’ She locked eyes with him, her gaze challenging, her meaning clear. If he didn’t back off, she’d leave.

  Aidan felt an unfamiliar hot, prickly sensation at the back of his eyeballs. He made one last-ditch attempt. ‘And what about my feelings? Don’t they count for anything?’

  Sarah looked out of the window again.

  ‘What if I leave Fiona anyway?’

  ‘Then you’d be leaving her for nothing.’

  ‘But I love you, Sarah.’

  She turned back to him. Her features were set in stone. ‘Your love for me is irrelevant.’

  Aidan slumped back on the couch, the fight gone out of him. He couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. Couldn’t believe that Sarah was capable of such coldness. Yet she’d said it. And, by the look of her, she’d meant it. He rose to his feet. He didn’t say anything – didn’t have anything left to say: he’d exhausted every argument, gone down every avenue and each one a dead end. He left the house silently and closed the front door carefully behind him.

  Sarah watched Aidan retreat down the street. Only when he’d disappeared around the corner did she allow herself to crumple to the floor. The tears came instantly, as if a dam had burst. As she scrunched herself up in the foetal position, she was aware that she had just given the performance of her life.

  Maia crossed the room and hunkered down beside her. She put a finger to her mother’s cheek. Then she lifted it up to her own face and looked at the tear that was now wetting her own skin. Then she sucked her finger solemnly and walked back to her corner. She knelt down on the floor, picked up the car and commenced spinning the back wheel.

  Part II

  Chapter 19

  It was like some watery nightmare from which he couldn’t wake. He was out day and night in the boat, waiting for a body that the ocean wouldn’t yield. His mother’s features, stricken with grief. His sisters’ faces, looking to him. As if he and not the sea had all the answers.

  And the end of the search. The surrender to the inevitable. The simple ceremony. Flowers strewn on the waiting water. His father’s name hewn in the slab of stone, space left beneath for the ones to come. For whomsoever the sea demanded as her sacrifice.

  His name on the stone.

  For years Aidan had had this recurring dream. He would wake up saturated, his sheets twisted. It was only when he’d met Fiona that the nightmares had subsided. And now the dream was back and a gnawing sense of loss haunted his nights as well as his days.

  The night after Sarah had dumped him, Fiona had found him sitting on the edge of their bed. She switch
ed on the light as she entered the room. ‘What are you doing, sitting here alone in the dark?’

  Aidan didn’t reply. He was trying to disguise the fact that he’d been crying.

  Fiona sat down beside him. ‘What is it, Aidan?’ She peered up into his face. ‘Have you been crying?’ She was amazed. Her husband wasn’t a weepy man. His tears came hard and slow. The last time he’d cried was at his mother’s funeral. That had been more than four years ago. And before that? His father’s funeral, most probably. And Fiona had always been there to pick up the pieces, as she was now. Aidan covered his eyes with his hands, but the tears seeped out through his fingers. She hugged him with her whole body, completely encompassing him with her arms. She sat there rocking him until he’d stopped.

  ‘I don’t know what the hell’s wrong with you, Aidan, and I know you’re not going to tell me. But whatever it is, we’re going to get through it. If it’s depression we can get through it. It can be fixed. If it’s a mid-life crisis, that can be fixed too. Even if I have to buy you a shiny red sports car and watch you zooming around the town, your beard blowing in the wind.’

  This elicited a small smile. But there was no happiness behind it.

  ‘Whatever it is, we’ll get through it together. I promise. Have I ever let you down?’

  ‘No, never. You’ve never let me down, Fiona.’

  She kissed him on the cheek, laid her head on his shoulder and stroked the back of his head. Aidan’s eyes welled again, but he managed to quell the flow this time. The knowledge of how little he deserved this tender treatment nearly killed him. His wife never failed to surprise him, not least in her capacity to believe that everything could be fixed, her pragmatic approach to every problem, every ailment.

  He went about his business as best he could. Literally. He was doing four or five dolphin trips a day and Star always obliged, coming along for the ride, although the level of her interaction varied widely. Sometimes she’d barely show her blowhole. At others she’d breach full out of the water, thrilling the tourists with her giant, splashy leaps.