Tearing my gaze away from Ethan, I made myself smile. “Yeah, it was okay.”
***
I brought the bag up to my room and then headed back out to my car. Once I confirmed that there was nobody around, I made my way to the spot where the birds had been. I expected to see a raccoon or opossum lying dead in the woods, but other than scattered leaves and twigs, there was no sign that the birds had even been there. The entire backyard was clear, not even a squirrel in sight.
I walked all the way around the perimeter of the yard until I was satisfied that I was just worrying over nothing. Of course nothing was out here. I rubbed my hands over my face. I couldn’t help wondering if this was how it had started for my mother—paranoid over every little sound, every strange happening.
I walked past the fence to Nicole’s yard and froze when I heard a hushed conversation on the other side.
“Obviously he wants to get with Allison because she’s like, no-man’s land. Once he gets in her pants, he’ll lose interest.” Rachel said my name like it was acid on her tongue.
“Give me a break, Rach,” Nicole replied. I could just imagine her dramatic eye roll.
“What? Isn’t she still, like, a virgin or something?” Rachel said, snickering. “She’s probably a lesbian anyway.”
“I think you need to back off my cousin.” Nicole’s voice hardened. “Got it?”
When I realized what I was doing, I hurried inside. I did not need to hear any more of that conversation. Time to take a quick shower and read for awhile. That would sort me out.
My mother was perched in her usual spot on the couch as I entered the living room, with Gram and Pop in their seats. The television was on, but when I glanced at my mother, I noticed she wasn’t watching it. She was looking out the window. Her expression was blank, but there was a tear trickling down her cheek.
***
My mother walks through an endless stretch of green forest. There is a man by her side, with big, blue eyes and wavy, caramel hair. She beams up at him. His hand gently rests on her back, steadying her as she steps over fallen branches and stones. His eyes are constantly moving, restless.
Black birds surround them. One swoops down at my mother, and its red eyes glare at her as it drags its talons across her chest. As quickly as it came, it flies off with the rest, leaving her shirt torn and streaked with blood. The man’s eyes are wild, searching the forest. He's yelling words I don’t understand as he pulls my mother toward him.
I jolted awake, my pajamas soaked in sweat, my breaths coming fast. But it was just another dream. Yet, muffled sobs came from my mother’s bedroom across the hall. I climbed out of my bed and hurried to my mother’s room.
Her bed was empty, and my chest seized. But when I spun around I saw her in her window seat, staring out at the woods. Relief flooded through me.
“Mom,” I whispered, but she didn’t move. “Mom, please look at me,” I tried again, sitting down on the seat beside her. She turned to face me then. Tears lined her cheeks like silver rivers down her moonlit face.
“Allison,” she murmured. I shivered at the clarity in her voice. I hadn’t heard her say my name since I was six years old.
“It’s okay, Mom.” I wiped her tears away with a tissue from the nightstand. Her eyes shone brighter than I’d ever seen them, and they burned holes into mine.
“You look...so much like him.” She didn’t have to say who she meant. I knew she was thinking about my father.
“I’m sorry if that hurts you,” I said, trying to hang onto the moment of lucidity.
“No,” she whispered, staring back into my eyes. “Your father was beautiful, just like you.”
“Did he hurt you?” I immediately regretted my words—I knew how easy it was to push her over the edge.
My mother shuddered, and just like that, she was gone. Her eyes glazed over, completely void of recognition. She turned her head slowly and stared back out at the woods.
Chapter 3
Sunday morning, I sat at the kitchen table after my run, picking through the newspaper that Pop had already dissected. My mother sat across from me, threading and unthreading her fingers. I picked up my coffee cup and grimaced when I took a sip to find it unexpectedly cold. I walked over to get a warm-up and the doorbell rang.
I glanced around, Gram was out in the garden, and Pop had taken a ride down to the hardware store to do paperwork. I set the coffee pot aside to answer the door. A young man stood on the other side, looking off into the woods. I didn’t think I’d ever seen him before, but there was something familiar about him.
“Hello. I’m looking for Beth O’Malley, please,” he said with a heavy Irish accent.
“Beth?” Nobody ever came over asking for Beth O’Malley. Then his eyes met mine.
Just like in a movie, when the camera zooms into someone’s face and everything else ceases to exist for that moment, my world stopped.
Because I had seen those eyes before.
They had gazed affectionately at my mother in my dreams.
His light golden-brown hair was short, but I could tell that if he grew it out a few inches, it would be wavy just like mine. He looked exactly like the photos I had in my room.
“She can’t come to the door.” The words tumbled out, my heart thrumming in my chest like a thousand butterfly wings. “I’m her daughter, Allison. Can I help you with something?”
“Oh, I see.” His brow furrowed, like he didn’t actually understand at all. “No. Thank you, Allison. Good day.” He turned toward the stairs.
“Wait!” I shouted. “Liam?”
He cleared his throat, froze, and spoke over his shoulder. “Yes. Has she told you about me then?”
“Not really, no.”
It was true. I only ever heard his name during her episodes. When I was little, she would sit in her room sometimes holding a piece of paper in her hands and cry. One day I snuck into her bedroom while she was playing her violin and stole the paper—what turned out to be pictures of her and Liam. I thought that if I took away the thing that made her cry, she would be happy with just me.
I shook my head. “She mentioned the name to my grandmother, after she came back from Ireland.”
“Right.” He turned back to face me again. “Do you suppose I might be able to speak with your mother later?”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “You haven’t spoken to her in the past twenty-two years, obviously.”
“I beg your pardon?” Liam cleared his throat again.
“I said it’s obvious you haven’t talked to my mother since she came back from Ireland twenty-two years ago.”
“Please, you must understand—”
“Oh, I think I understand perfectly. You knocked my mother up and sent her back to the US, and now . . . what? You’re in the neighborhood so you thought you’d drop by to say hello?”
“I don’t know what you’ve been told. But”—he paused, swallowing hard—“I assure you, I knew nothing of a child.”
I stepped out onto the porch, quietly shutting the door behind me. I tried to keep my expression calm and indifferent.
I noticed his jaw muscles clenching. Something else we had in common, I guess.
“I don’t know what to say,” he whispered as he passed a hand through his hair. “I didn’t know you existed, yet... here you are.”
“Here I am,” I laughed, without humor. “I guess you’re wondering why I won’t let you see my mother?”
“I suppose I am. But I might have a bit of an idea,” he said. His blue eyes looked sad and far older than I’d originally thought.
“You think so?” I snapped. “And why might that be?”
“Oh, Allison. I daresay I know far more than I wish to.” He sighed and ran his hands through his hair again.
“So, you know that my mother is crazy? That she can’t even leave the house without being sedated? Do you know that most days she doesn’t say more than ten words? And on those off days, she rants and screams your name?
” I took a deep breath, my chest heaving with emotion. I had been going for cool and indifferent, but, his innocent act set me off. I couldn’t even look at him. “Is that what you wish you didn’t know?”
“Won’t you let me see her?” he pleaded, his fingers still laced in his hair. “I have loved your mother all these years. I know this is my fault, believe me. There was nothing I could do, but I would have done anything...” His voice trailed off, and there was a faraway look in his eyes.
I was at a complete loss. How could he just show up twenty-two years after tearing my mother’s heart apart? How could he stand here, claiming to love her in one breath, and yet say he was helpless to do anything about it in the next?
“Let me guess—you were married, with a kid or two already. I bet the American student and her illegitimate baby didn’t fit well in the family portrait, right?” My hands clenched into fists.
Liam laughed then, but it was a cold, terrible laugh. His face clouded over, and for a moment I regretted speaking to him so harshly. I didn’t know this guy. I had no idea what he was capable of.
For what must have been the longest two minutes of my life, he didn’t say anything. He didn’t even look at me, just stared off into space. His eyes were hard and shiny, like marbles, glistening with unshed tears.
“No, I was never married,” he finally answered. “I wish it were so simple.”
He looked directly into my eyes then, and for a moment I couldn’t think of a single thing to say. Questions tumbled through my mind, but there were so many that I had no way of knowing where to begin. I opened my mouth to ask what he meant, but he spoke first.
“I will find a way to undo what has been done, or I will die trying.” He took two steps back. “I understand your anger. You’re completely justified. But know this—you will see me again.” He nodded curtly and strode down the front walk. Just like that.
***
I didn’t have to work on Sunday, but I almost wished I had, if only for the distraction. The sky was bright blue as I stepped back out onto the front porch, and I could hear the chords from “Drowsy Maggie” floating out from the den. My mother hadn’t played such a peppy tune on her violin in years. I sat on the top step with an ice-cold glass of lemonade, tapping my foot to the melody. Uncle David had mowed that morning, too, so the smell of freshly cut grass added to the illusion of a perfect summer day. Puffy clouds moved swiftly through the sky, matching the speed of the thoughts passing through my mind.
I couldn’t bring myself to tell Gram and Pop about Liam showing up. Every time I considered it, I pictured Liam’s face—he was so . . . young. Something about him didn’t sit right. It wasn’t just that he spoke in riddles. It was that his face hadn’t changed a bit from the photo strips my mom clung to when I just was five years old.
No. I did the right thing, I encouraged myself. They had enough to deal with, and something told me I should keep his arrival to myself.
I took a sip of my lemonade and looked around the yard. There were no signs of the fighting black birds, at least. It was actually a peaceful day. It was warm but not as hot as it had been the past week. I stretched my legs out and leaned back on my hands, letting the sun warm my face.
My mother’s music danced through my head. When I was a very little girl, she would let me choose the music she’d play. I always loved the fast tunes like “Drowsy Maggie.” I would watch her bite her bottom lip in concentration as she moved through each piece. She withdrew completely when I was around seven years old, though, and I missed turning the sheet music for her and dancing along to the reels.
I opened my eyes, and lights sparkled across my vision. I looked down, letting my eyes adjust. Once I could see normally I stood, figuring I should probably do a load of laundry before Gram had a chance to do it for me. But to my left, I saw a twinkling silver light. I turned to walk up the stairs, and sure enough, the same light caught my eye, even when I faced the house.
I remembered Gram would sometimes hang aluminum pie plates near her vegetable garden to keep the birds away. I must have not been paying attention when I walked past her gardens—surely she had put some out.
The rumbling of an engine announced Jeff’s arrival next door and jerked me away from my thoughts. I looked over to see Nicole bouncing down the driveway. She glanced over at me, her face all lit up.
“There you are! I’ve been texting you all morning.” She signaled to Jeff that she’d be just a minute and made her way over to me.
I sighed, knowing what was going to happen before she was even in front of me. Once again, I had no believable excuses.
“I’m going to a cookout at Jeff’s parents’ house. Wanna come?” No matter how many times I’d turned down her invitations in the past, she never lost hope that I would one day be happy to tag along with her and her friends.
“I have laundry to do, Nic,” I mumbled as I walked into the house, wincing when I heard her follow behind me. She would never give up so easily.
“And, it will be here tomorrow, won’t it?”
My mother was still playing her violin in the den. Her talent never faded, no matter how ill she became. As I walked past, I could see Gram coming in through the sliding door. She was wearing her gardening hat and gloves, the knees of her pants caked with soil.
“Hello, girls.” Gram smiled at us as she pulled the gloves off, wiping her brow.
“Hey, Gram,” Nicole said, grinning. “Aunt Beth is doing okay, isn’t she?”
Gram looked between the two of us, a knowing smile forming on her face. She licked her lips and laughed.
“Aunt Beth is just fine, why do you ask?”
I widened my eyes at Gram. She usually helped me fend off Nicole’s endless invitations.
“Great, so you can come, Al!”
“Are you sure I’m even invited?” I knew I was just putting off the inevitable. But I had to put up a little bit of a fight. I couldn’t let Nicole get complacent.
She glanced at me and frowned. “I just invited you.”
I breathed deeply. “If I come, will you leave me alone for the rest of the week?”
Her dismissive expression made me laugh. “Yeah, sure. Let’s go. This will be so much fun,” she said, sounding much more excited than I felt.
I made a “how could you?” face at Gram and followed after my cousin. I would never let Nicole know, but the idea of being surrounded by mindless conversation might actually be the only way I could make it through this day.
***
The Magliaro family never had small get-togethers. They were a huge Italian family with plenty of relatives and friends constantly stopping by unannounced. A cookout there meant three times as many people around as there usually were. Luckily, their house was enormous.
It stood a mile back from the road, and I sat in the back of Jeff’s Jeep, bumping and bouncing all the way up the long, snaking driveway. Half a dozen cars were already there when we arrived. Jeff pulled right onto the front lawn and secured the parking brake.
I followed them into the house, smiling at relatives I’d met before, even if I couldn’t remember their names. The air was thick with the smell of spicy Italian cooking. Two booming male voices were having a friendly argument about which Patriots tight end should be starting in the fall, and little kids were running around, darting under our feet.
“Eli, what did I tell you about running inside Auntie Joanne’s house?” Jeff mock-scolded a dark-haired boy as he ran by. The boy grinned up at him, showing several missing teeth, and scooted out the front door.
In the kitchen, Joanne was putting chips into bowls and chatting with an older woman. The second she saw me and Nicole, her eyes lit up, and she excused herself before rushing for us.
“Hello, girls! So glad to see you,” she said before turning to Jeff. “Did you offer them anything to drink Jeff?”
“Uh, not yet, Ma. We just got here.”
Joanne made shooing motions to her son, and he threw up his arms before going off in
search of drinks.
She leveled me with her eyes. “How’s your mom, honey?”
“You know . . . same old.” I put on my best polite smile.
Joanne nodded, her face showing that she saw right through me. “Well, I’m sorry I haven’t stopped by in a few days. I’ll come by soon, I promise.”
I nodded. I knew she would.
She gave my arm a gentle pat and then excused herself as Jeff came back with two bottles of water. I took one from him and caught sight of Ethan across the family room. My smile faltered a bit—he was leaning against the back of the sofa, whispering into the ear of a redhead who looked vaguely familiar.
Nicole cleared her throat. “Whatcha looking at, Al?”
I scowled at her as my cheeks heated up. “I’m not looking at anything,” I said, looking down at my flip flops.
I snuck a peek back at Ethan, who was laughing and standing inappropriately close to the girl. Then I remembered: she went to high school with us.
“Hey, man.” Sean came up, clapping his hand on Jeff’s shoulder. Behind him, Rachel stood watching Ethan talk to the redhead, too.
“Hey. We still on for some Home Run Derby?” Jeff asked, curling his arm around Nicole’s waist.
I glanced back at Ethan. Lisa, that was her name.
Sean grinned. “Of course I am. Let’s do this!”
“Hey, Ethan,” Jeff hollered across the room. “Get your hands out of Lisa’s pants, and let’s go play ball!”
Nicole smacked him and Joanne shot him a look, but Jeff and Sean just cracked up. They weren’t the least bit sorry.
Ethan separated himself from Lisa and walked over to where we all stood, his smile wicked. Sean punched him in the shoulder.
“What? We were just catching up.” Ethan’s teeth gleamed against his deep tan as he laughed. I stared back down at my feet again, wishing I were home doing laundry.
“Hey, Al.” Ethan said, turning his grin on me. I attempted to make my face completely unreadable.
Dammit. Why did I always have to react to him?
“Hey,” I said, trying for indifference but only achieving awkwardness.
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