Off Course

by Sawyer Bennett

  "Fucking bitch," was all he said as I pushed the door all the way open and climbed out. I didn't even look behind me as I ran up to my apartment.

  I knock again on Cillian's door and glance at my watch. It's 10:00AM and I have no clue if he's home.

  I have no clue because he hasn't returned my calls. I started immediately trying to reach him after I turned the lock on my flat door last night. I had no intention of telling him what I had found out over the phone. I just wanted an update as to what was going on. I can only hope he's not been answering because he took Maeve back to Dublin Mind Wellness or some other insane asylum where they would hopefully lock her up and throw away the key.

  I'm sort of surprised over the viciousness of my anger against her. Most of the sympathy I've had for her has been eroded away and I know it's time to put my foot down where she's concerned.

  When I got up this morning, I tried to reach him again, but no answer. I didn't hesitate before I got showered and made my way to his flat.

  Just as I'm starting to turn away from his door, convinced he's not home, it opens and Cillian is standing there. He looks like shit. His eyes are red and he's wearing last night's wrinkled clothes.

  "Hey," he says wearily and steps aside so I can come in.

  "Why haven't you answered your phone?" I ask, trying to keep my voice level.

  He looks at me in surprise and reaches into his pocket. He pushes the button and nothing happens. "Battery's dead, I guess."

  For some reason, that just pisses me off. It certainly explains why he didn't answer the phone, but it doesn't explain why he didn't once think of calling to check on me. He had no clue if I even made it home safe last night, and that just causes my blood to boil.

  "Well, as you can see, I made it home in one piece last night." My voice is sarcastic as I hold my arms out.

  He blinks in surprise but doesn't say anything. Now lava is flowing through my veins.

  "Yeah... I'm in one piece. A little bruised," I say as I pull my shirtsleeve up so he can see the bruises Brady left on my arm last night when he grabbed me, "but still in one piece."

  I get a small measure of satisfaction when his face goes green. "What the fuck did he do to you?" His voice is low and aggressive, and despite how mad I am at him, I don't want to get derailed from the more important conversation we need to have.

  "Nothing. He just got a little grabby with me. I'm fine."

  "I'm going to kill that mother-fucker," he says, looking around wildly. "Where are my fucking car keys?"

  I reach out and lay my hand on his arm. "Stop, Cillian. I'm fine, and besides, you don't even know where to find him. Plus... we need to talk."

  He looks down at my hand on his arm and then back up at me. His eyes are hard for just a second, and then he starts to reach a hand toward my face. I anticipate the warmth of his fingertips, wait for what seems like forever for him to touch me. I need it... crave it. It is reassurance to me. But just before he touches my cheek, I hear, "What's she doing here, Cillian?"

  I spin around and Maeve is standing ten feet away. She's wearing one of his t-shirts, which hits the top of her thigh. I'm stunned speechless as I look at her in a near-naked state, in my boyfriend's apartment. After she had a supposed mental meltdown last night, causing him to ditch me and leave with her.

  I glance at Cillian and he has his fingers on the bridge of his nose, apparently trying to rub away a tension headache. I look back to Maeve and she shoots me a sweet smile.

  Turning my back on her, I take a step closer to Cillian and I say quietly, "You're an asshole."

  That seems to break him out of his stupor and he says, "Wait? What?" He looks bewildered as to why I would call him that.

  "Figure it out. You're a smart guy."

  I spin toward the door and haul it open, trying to slam it behind me on the way out. But his hand shoots out and he grabs it, throwing it open. He stalks out after me and catches up to me just before I reach the lift. He grabs my hand as I reach out to jab the button.

  "What are you doing, Renner? Why am I an asshole?"

  "You have a half-naked, certifiably psychotic woman in your apartment... one that I thought you might be taking to a hospital last night. You don't call me, you don't even give a shit what happened to me, and you wonder why I call you an asshole? Hmmm... let's see. I amend my former statement. You're a stupid asshole."

  I make another jab at the button but he grabs my shoulders and turns me to him. "Renner... I'm so sorry about last night. I wasn't thinking straight and I'm an idiot for leaving you with that gobshite. I could kick myself for that. But nothing happened between Maeve and I. She slept in my bed and I slept on the couch."

  I grit my teeth tight, probably in an effort not to let loose a scream of frustration. "Why? Why did she stay here? Why didn't you take her somewhere for help...Dublin Mind Wellness, a hospital... fuck, I don't care... why didn't you dump her back at her flat?"

  "Renner," he chides. "She needs help. I couldn't just dump her at her apartment. And... she refused to go to Dublin Mind Wellness. She tried to jump out of the car when I suggested it. So I brought her back here, hoping to talk some sense into her. I think I can get through, but I just need some time."

  I give him a huge eye roll, and then level my eyes on his.

  It's do or die now. "She's using you, Cillian. She's playing you, and using you. It's a game to her."

  His hands fall from my shoulders and he takes a step back. "That's not fair, Renner. How could you be so cold about all of this."

  I close my eyes and take a deep breath. Should I tell him all of the dirty details of Maeve's little game? Should I let him know exactly how rotten his so-called friend is?

  But then it hits me.

  None of that should matter. When it boils right down to it, no matter what Maeve's problems, no matter what tragedy has befallen her to make her the way she is, it's not Cillian's place to correct it. Sometime in the last few weeks, he's been sucked into a different role. He's gone from being the supportive friend, to being her crutch, to now being her savior. It's a role he shouldn't have to fill, and in my heart of hearts, I know it will only lead to failure.

  No... I need to set a boundary in our relationship and he has to make the choice between Maeve and me. But he needs to do it without my dirty secrets about Maeve influencing his decision. He needs to make it clear to me what is really important.

  "I can't do this anymore, Cillian."

  "What do you mean?" he asks carefully.

  "I can't continue to have a relationship with someone that isn't fully invested in it. Maeve has issues, but it is not your place to fix them."

  "I'm not trying to fix them," he says angrily. "I'm just trying to help."

  "No, you are being a slave to her whims."

  "So you just want me to turn my back on her? Is that it? You want me to ignore the problem, just like I did with my da? Would that make you feel better? Well, how do you think it would make me feel if I did that and she offed herself? Would you feel all warm and fuzzy in our relationship then?" His words are harsh and filled with frustration and fury. This is devolving fast and suddenly, I'm just very tired of the situation.

  "No," I say quietly. "Of course, I don't want that. You have to know that. But I can't keep being pushed to the side every time she crooks her finger at you. It's not fair to me."

  "So you want me to choose? You want me to cater to your needs and forget about hers? Is that what you're saying?"

  I hate to do this to him, I hate to give him this ultimatum, but I know I'm right about this. "Yes. I'm asking you to choose."

  Cillian brings his hands to his face and covers it for a brief moment, then rubs at his eyes with his fingertips. When he pulls them away, he looks at me sadly. "I'm sorry then. I don't like ultimatums but if you're sure you want to give it, I choose Maeve. Her needs are just a bit more important than yours right now."

  My heart cracks at those words...splits right down the middle with a pain so intens
e, I bring my knuckles up to rub against the center of my chest. I just stare at him, disbelieving that he would say that. Part of me is on the verge of panic and I almost blurt out all of Maeve's lies and manipulations, just so he'll know how very wrong he is.

  But then understanding washes over me, and I realize that Cillian was never really mine to lose. If he was...the choice would have been a no brainer in the other direction. If he loved me, the way I love him, he would have taken me in his arms and said, "Of course, I choose you, Renner. There is no other choice."

  I wait just a moment more, my eyes beseeching his...silently begging him to change his mind. He just returns a level stare at me and his message is clear.

  Ball is in my court.

  Turning to my left, I walk to the stairwell door and open it. His voice halts me though. "Are you sure this is what you want?"

  Tears spring to my eyes but I keep my back to him. "No, Cillian... this is what you want."

  I walk through the door and let it close softly behind me.

  CHAPTER 24

  Cillian

  I bang on Cady's door, not even bothering with her doorbell. I'm too fucking pissed.

  No, pissed isn't right. I'm in a near blown panic.

  I've been calling Renner for almost two days straight. The first day, I figured she was just too angry to answer the phone, and I get that. But I was hoping I could talk some sense into her and convince her there was a common ground we could reach if we just tried. So I figured maybe she just needed some space.

  By the second day without her answering, I decided to blitz her at The Hibernian. After all, I had plenty of experience stalking her there. I'd give her no choice but to talk to me. When I got there, Keefe knocked me figuratively on my ass.

  When I had stepped inside, I immediately saw him standing behind the bar. He looked up as I approached, and his look was not friendly.

  "I need to talk to Renner, Keefe. Can you spare her for a few minutes?"

  "No can do, boy-o."

  "Come on, Keefe. We've had a spat. I want to fix it."

  His look then turned to one of sorrow and it caused my stomach to knot up.

  "She's not here," he said quietly.

  Sighing in frustration, I asked, "Well, just tell me where she is so I can fix this mess."

  He glanced at his watch. "I expect she's in New Jersey about now."

  I felt like I'd been hit with a frying pan. "What?"

  "You heard me. She's gone back to the States. And if you didn't have such a kicked-puppy look about you right now, I'd box your ears for hurting her."

  I sank back onto a bar stool and just stared blankly at the bar.

  She left? Without telling me? Without giving us a chance? I couldn't fathom it.

  "I don't understand," I said lamely.

  "Neither do I, Cillian. She didn't tell me anything. But Cady saw her before she left, and based on the number of curses I heard come out of her mouth in relation to your name, I'm sure she knows the whole sordid story." He polished a glass and then set it down. "It's probably best I don't know, because I'd hate to think it would come between us."

  His words were hard and as I looked into his eyes, guilt flooded my entire system. "I didn't mean to. It wasn't my intention."

  "Yet you did it all the same." His words were soft but they felt like acid poured onto my skin.

  I didn't even look back his way as I walked out of The Hibernian.

  I bang on Cady's door again. I know she's on the other side, staring at me through the peephole. "Come on, Cady. Open up. I'm not leaving until you talk to me."

  "Go away, you ass."

  I bang even louder. "Better call the Garda to arrest me then, because I'm not leaving," I tell her, pounding the wood with every word.

  The door flies open and I almost pound Cady on the face but I'm able to draw my hand back just in time. She's glaring at me.

  "What do you want?" she asks.

  I push my way past her and spin around as she closes the door behind me. "You know what I want. Where is she and when did she leave?"

  "What do you care?" she asks blasely. "You made your choice, live with it."

  I wince, because that's exactly what I did. I turned my back on Renner in a fit of anger and guilt. "Because I love her, damn it, so get over your pique and help me out here."

  "Oh, fine words coming from a man that turned his back on the so-called woman he loves... for another fucking woman."

  "It wasn't like that," I grit out. "You weren't there."

  "I didn't need to be there, you prick. I saw the damage you left behind."

  Ouch, that fucking stings, knowing that I hurt Renner that badly. Taking a deep breath, I tell her, "I want to fix this, Cady. Please help me."

  "I don't think it can be fixed, Cillian. You chose poorly. It's done."

  "No!" I say adamantly, refusing to believe that all is lost. "There has to be some common ground. Ultimatums should not have been given. She backed me into a corner and I reacted in anger, but there has to be a way we can make this work."

  "Let me ask you this. Where's Maeve right now?"

  "She's at my apartment. Why?"

  "Gah, you're daft. How in the fuck do you think it can work with Renner when you're harboring a known psychopath--who walks around half-naked from what I understand--in your home?"

  "Cady," I admonish. "That's harsh. I know you're sticking up for your cousin, but have a care. Maeve has serious problems I'm trying to help her with."

  Cady then surprises me when she starts laughing. She can't stop herself and actually bends over, holding her stomach while she just laughs, and laughs, and laughs. I want to strangle her.

  "What the fuck, Cady? None of this is funny. It's serious."

  "Oh, you're funny, all right," she says, still chuckling. "You're also a moron that you can't even see that you're being played."

  I throw my hands up in the air. "Why is everyone saying that? Renner told me the same thing. What the fuck am I missing?"

  "What you're missing is that Maeve is playing a sick game to try to get you back. And you're so stuck in your own guilt and misery, you don't even see it."

  "No way," I say. "Not possible."

  "Not only possible, not only probable... definitely. She's playing you."

  Massaging my temples, I walk to Cady's couch and sit down. She follows me and sits on a chair opposite. I take a deep breath and try to sound calm. "Okay, how about you tell me your side. Tell me why you think I'm being played."

  "Did you know that Maeve lied to you about her parents?"

  "What?"

  She nods. "She never knew her father and her mother died when she was little. She was raised by a kindly aunt in Galway. That freak you had take Renner home--which by the way was a complete asshole move on your part to do that to her--told her all the details about Maeve's life."

  My mouth drops open and I shake my head, needing to disbelieve.

  "No," I whisper.

  Deny, deny, deny is what my conscience is telling me.

  "Yes, Cillian." Her voice is a bit softer. "And I know you didn't know this, but Maeve confronted Renner the night you played at The Hibernian. She told her that she intended to get you back and that she would play dirty to do it."

  Oh, God, I groan inwardly, leaning my head back on her couch.

  "Please tell me you're joking," I implore.

  My insides are swimming with nausea, when I think of all those times that I thought I was helping Maeve. But the truth is, she was helping herself... to me. To my attention. To my kindness. My sympathy.

  She took everything I had to offer her, and she used it. And every time I gave something to her, it meant I was taking something away from Renner. Because every time I gave to Maeve, I took the time from Renner.

  Lifting my head, I look to Cady. "Why didn't she tell me? It would have made a difference the other day!"

  Cady shakes her head sadly at me. "She shouldn't have had to lay that before you to get you to m
ake the right choice. You should have chosen her no matter what."

  I don't want to hear that because I think the guilt will destroy me. I try to argue against it. "But I thought I was helping Maeve. I thought I could get her through this."

  "No, Cillian... I hate to say it, but you were also just helping yourself. You were using that situation to make up for whatever guilt you're carrying around over your parents. Now, I don't know the details, because you've never shared them with me... but I don't have to be fucking Freud to see that."

  She's right... I'm sure of it. But I'm not ready to admit defeat yet. Because that defeat will have me swimming in a sea of pity and guilt that will swallow me whole. "But I couldn't turn my back on her." It's lame and I know it.

  "No, you didn't have to turn your back on her. But maybe the way you should have handled it was by insisting that she go to rehab."

  "But I did--"

  "No! You didn't. You let her walk out of there and didn't provide one consequence to her for her rash actions. Sometimes you have to play the tough love card. I don't mean to sound harsh, but you should have set a boundary with her and if she crossed it, you should have cut her out."

  It's harsh, what she's saying, but I know it's true. I should have done every fucking thing Cady just said, but I was too caught up in some hero-complex to even notice the obvious answer staring me in the face.

  "When did she leave?" My voice is defeated and my energy is sapped.

  "The morning after you made your choice. I went and helped her get packed that day. She sobbed her eyes out the entire time."

  Funny... I feel like sobbing my eyes out right now, I feel so helpless.

  "Where is she?"

  "Back home... in New Jersey."

  I stand up from the couch and make my way to the door. I feel like I'm in a daze. When I reach for the doorknob, Cady says, "Are you going to be okay?"

  The sympathy in her voice threatens to tear me apart and it's a vicious reminder that my life is suddenly very empty. But I'm not one to roll over. I don't accept mediocrity and I always go after what I want. I feel my spine stiffen with strength and a desire to get what's mine.

  "I will be once I get Renner back." I stalk out the door, intent on putting into motion all the things that need to be done so I can be with my beautiful girl again.