Where We Belong

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Where We Belong Page 26

by Fox Brison


  And it would give me time to think about what I was going to say when I found her.

  ***

  “I thought you’d be you here.” It was still light enough, just, to see her silhouetted by the side of the lough; her posture was the embodiment of hopelessness.

  “I didn’t know where else to go, I left so quickly I forgot the car keys,” she whispered.

  “Twins. It’s where I come when I want a quiet space to think.” She flinched. “I’m sorry I invited your parents over, Brianna. I should have talked it over with you.” I touched her arm, intending to pull her into a hug. She snatched it away and nearly fell into the water.

  “I’m… I’m… I’m going back to Leo.” It was said as if she’d simply plucked it from thin air, but it tore my heart out of my chest and stomped it into the mud

  “You’re going back to a man you haven’t had sex with for over a year?” I asked disbelievingly. My self-control was swept away by a torrent of grief. I could not believe her complete disregard for my feelings, nor her complete abrogation of our love. “Bull fucking shit!” I snarled.

  “It’s better this way,” she said, detached. She had turned into a robot whose sole aim was to destroy my life.

  “Better? You breaking my heart is better? Going back to a man who couldn’t give you an orgasm in three years is better?”

  “At least when I’m with Leo it’s normal.”

  “What do you mean normal?”

  “You know perfectly well what I mean,” she said indifferently.

  “So you lied? I was an experiment and now things have grown a little real you revert back to form and take the easy way out?”

  “Easy? You think this is easy for me?”

  “Then stay!” I pleaded. “I want us to build a life together, grow old together, and raise our kids-”

  She cut me dead. “Stop talking, Leesh, please just stop.”

  “Give me one good reason,” I argued, sure she couldn’t.

  “I found out today that Bridget and Patrick are my grandparents, is that a good enough reason for you?” She snapped, as if this excused her behaviour. It didn’t, it simply made it all the more perplexing.

  “Hang on… I thought Maggie May died as a baby?”

  “Seventeen isn’t exactly ancient.”

  “I guess not…but, babe, that’s wonderful news!” I said excitedly. Now there was even more reason for her to stay. “Come here and let me hold you.”

  Another step back. “Ann Doran was in love with your dad,” she exploded the information out of her mouth and into the air between us, which was suddenly incredibly taut.

  “That must be why Pat hates him,” I said. The shocks kept on coming one after another. First the Dorans had a daughter, and now said daughter had loved my father. What that had to do with me and Brianna, however? “I still don’t-”

  “You’re my sister!” she cried.

  I collapsed onto the rock by the side of the lough. Brianna was a few steps away but she may as well have been on the dark side of the moon. Those three words had built a wall between us, a wall so high it would never be breached, should never be breached. I couldn’t bring myself to say the word.

  Sister. Fuck.

  “Are you sure?” I whispered.

  “I… I heard Bi… Bid… Biddy and your father arguing,” she sobbed. I sat rigid. I couldn’t look at her. For the first time, I didn’t want to see her eyes.

  Because like a reflection on the lake, mine would be fixed in the same image – anguished despair.

  “Brianna, I’m lost.” I said quietly.

  “Me too.”

  We remained in silence. The darkness enveloped us but neither of us left because we both realised once we did, that would be it. I didn’t want it to be over, even though it had to be.

  Soul mates torn asunder at birth? Twisted fucking fairy tale.

  “I didn’t want to tell you.” Brianna’s voice cracked as she broke the quiet. She cleared her throat and spoke with determination. “I wanted to leave with you hating me so that you would never know this. I’m sorry, Elisha. If I hadn’t come here you wouldn’t feel this…” she paused. “There’s not a lot left to do on site. Dom is more than capable-”

  “I don’t give a flying fuck about the site,” I cried. This time I bolted – there must have been a mistake!

  ***

  I spent the walk to my Dad’s house in pure torment. I had no energy left, and the spark of vitality, which had been running through my veins since meeting Brianna, was gone. Empty was the only way I could describe it. The cold dark evening seeped in through my skin and shrouded my soul in indescribable misery. I was wrathful because... despite everything I still… Jesus. I raked my hands though my hair. How the fuck could I learn to unlove her?

  “What are doing here?” Isabella spat acerbically.

  “Where’s Daddy?” I answered her brusque question with one of my own.

  “I haven’t a clue. I came home from picking the girls up from school and he was gone.”

  “Right.” I brought the conversation to a swift conclusion. She was the last person I wanted to speak to.

  And strike three…

  “No Brianna? You two have been practically joined at the hip these past few months. You can’t even spend time with your nieces and nephew without her hovering. I guess it’s true what they say about lesbians.”

  “Not now, Bella,” I said coldly.

  “Elisha,” my Dad came in through the back door. “What are you-”

  “Is it true?” I interrupted.

  “Is what true?” Isabella asked.

  “You know how much you hate me? Well it turns out Da had an affair. And another daughter. We have a sister.”

  “A sister?”

  “Oh yes and guess what? She’s gay too!” I did this fake bright voice and cheerleader smile.

  “What?” she exclaimed. Her head snapped back to our father. “Da? What’s she going on about?”

  When my father remained silent, I answered for him. “Brianna is our sister.”

  Isabella hardly batted an eyelid before rubbing my nose in it. “Serves you both right! I told you it was against God and nature. You’re reaping what you sowed and He’s teaching you perverts a lesson!” Her tone was an unpleasant mix of jubilation and sanctimony. Bitch.

  “Enough!” my dad roared and Isabella and I both jumped. “Enough, Isabella. I’m telling you now if you ever speak to your sister like that again, it’s not God you’ll have to worry about, it’s me.”

  I stared, shocked. Me falling in love with my half-sister had apparently given my father a backbone.

  “We’ll be the talk of the town, again,” Isabella bawled angrily and stormed out.

  “How?” he asked, his voice grief-stricken.

  “Brianna overheard you and Bridget talking earlier.”

  “I didn’t know, Elisha, I swear I didn’t know.” I wasn’t the only one hurting; he looked like a broken man.

  “What happened, Da?”

  “We were young, Leesh. Ann was fifteen when we began courting and I was seventeen. After a few years together… It’s no excuse, but your grandfather had just died and I was running this place. Pat and Biddy had all these dreams of combining the farms, building an Irish Dynasty and I began to feel trapped. One night I went to a dance in Roosky with the lads and your mam was there, and, well, she was a beauty, turned heads, including mine.” He halted, his breathing laboured.

  “Dad?” I asked, placing my hand on his arm.

  “I’m fine. The next thing I know I have your mammy telling me she’s pregnant with you. I’m going to be honest, Leesh, the only reason I married her was because she was carrying you.”

  “I understand it wasn’t love.” That hadn’t been a state secret.

  “I loved Ann and regretted breaking her heart, but that’s all I regret because I have you and Bella.”

  “Brianna’s leaving and I’m…” this was a Shakespearean tragedy that made
Romeo and Juliet look like a rom com. “I…”

  “You need to rest, Leesh. Take my room, I’ll sleep on the sofa tonight.”

  “Thanks.” I took him up on his offer, but not to sleep. I needed time alone, a condition I was going to have to get used to.

  Because after Brianna? No one else could even come close.

  Chapter 50

  Brianna

  When I arrived back the hissed conversation my parents were having stopped abruptly. I poured myself a drink and sat by the fire. I was so damned cold.

  “Are you okay?” mum asked.

  “I. No.” And I never would be.

  “What’s going on?” She took my hand and, “Jaysus, you’re freezing. Noel, throw another shovel of coal on that fire and get Brianna a cup of tea, she’s perished.”

  “No tea. I’ll have another whiskey.” Mum raised her eyebrows but chose not to comment. Wise decision. I passed my dad the glass and he poured me a refill.

  “Now can you tell us what’s going on?” she asked tenderly.

  I was shaking. I cradled the glass in both hands and watched the amber liquid steady. “I found my grandparents,” I murmured. My father started at that piece of new and pertinent information.

  “Oh, Sweetie!” my mum looked both happy and sad.

  “Is that why you’re leaving?” Dad asked.

  “No, I’m leaving because Elisha is my sister.” God I was bloody angry. All of this could have been prevented if they’d told me the truth when I was younger. “Turns out I’m not only adopted, but I’m also a lesbian. Oh yes, and I’ve been fucking my sister,” I said, eerily calm. I headed to the sideboard and poured another extremely generous three fingers of whiskey. Fuck it. If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em, right? My mum gasped and held her hand to her mouth. My dad was more measured.

  “I don’t understand. Maggie told me you were her first and only child,” he stated.

  “I am. I assume anyway.” The whiskey burned away the pain for a blessed but all too fleeting moment.

  “Brianna you’re not making any sense. Perhaps you’ve had enough?”

  My eyes widened and eyebrows shot up. Did he honestly just say that to me? “I haven’t had nearly enough, Dad,” I emphasised.

  “Then explain to me how if Maggie died having you, you happen to have a sister!” he asked sarcastically.

  “It takes two to tango,” I said, matching his sarcasm measure for measure. “It turns out I share my birth father with Elisha.” The third whiskey was gone, so I poured myself a fourth. Hopefully, it would knock me out for the rest of the night.

  “Is this why you’re drinking? Is this why you’re running away.” My mother pointed at the cases still waiting by the back door.

  “Yes,” I lowered my head and began to sob. Mum held me as my father paced the room. “Can we go home tomorrow?” I whispered into her shoulder.

  “Of course,” she readily acceded.

  “I’m…” I was shattered. The adrenaline subsided and I was crashing, like a diabetic in hypoglycaemic shock. “You can sleep. I…”

  “We’ll find it, sweetheart. You get some rest. It’ll look better in the morning. Everything always looks better in the light.”

  What I wouldn’t have given to believe her.

  ***

  Lying on my bed staring at the ceiling I could see why people jumped; I could also understand how easy it was to become an addict. Right now I would do anything to forget.

  I rolled onto my side and immediately smelled Elisha’s citrusy fresh cologne on the pillow next to me. I mewled as the memory of our last morning together washed over me. We laughed and she had tickled me into submission.

  I smiled and hated myself because of it.

  Leaping up, I ripped the sheets from the bed. I was a Tasmanian devil tearing at duvet covers and pillow cases until I was sat amongst the detritus, crying. Red appeared at the door and scratching around in the mess, she wiggled her tail feathers and sat next to me. Curling up beside her I stroked her back.

  And passed out.

  ***

  When I opened my eyes Red was gone. I looked out of the window and although it was still dark, the first blush of dawn wasn’t far away. I couldn’t tell if it was the whiskey or sleeping on the floor that caused every single part of my body to hurt, but one thing was certain - I needed a coffee. I snorted. One coffee wasn’t going to cut it this morning, not unless it came in a bucket.

  “Can’t sleep?”

  “Jesus, Dad!” I held my hand to my chest. “Don’t you think I’ve suffered enough shocks?”

  “Sorry.”

  I put a sod turf on the fire. It should have warmed me when I opened the stove door, but it didn’t, not today.

  “I’m worried about you, Bri,” he said tenderly.

  “Coffee?” I didn’t want to talk about my twisted car crash of a life. I wanted to go on the Ryanair website and book three flights to Stansted.

  “Sure,” he said hesitantly. I returned a few minutes later with two steaming mugs of strong Columbian coffee. It wasn’t necessarily the product from that country I really wanted, but it would do in a pinch. I handed him his, and sat with my back against the arm of the sofa. Sipping my drink I felt remarkably calm, although the way my emotions were swinging I knew that wouldn’t last.

  “You love Elisha,” he said, a statement rather than a question.

  “Like I’ve never loved anything and anyone. She’s become my world and I’m even playing again because of her. She bought me the most beautiful electric violin. This,” I took a sharp breath. “When I learned that we were related it nearly sent me over the edge.” I sniffed. “Quite literally as it happens.”

  “What do you mean, Bri?”

  I was in two minds whether to tell him, but I had to tell someone. “After hearing Biddy, that’s Maggie’s mum, and Michael, Elisha’s dad, speaking, I wanted to get out of my head. I wanted to escape my thoughts so badly I took the cliff path and walked to the edge. God, Dad, I almost… it would have been easier.” I snorted disdainfully. “And you know how much I love an easy life. For the first time ever the thought crossed my mind that if I was no longer here, the world would be simpler, the world would still turn without me.”

  “It would have killed us,” he said soberly.

  “Maybe that’s why…” I took a drink. “She’s dying inside. She brought me a sense of peace and wonderment… it’s so fucking… this is all my fault.”

  “Bri, don’t say that!” he sounded frightened. “It isn’t your fault!”

  “It is, Dad. I came here and fell in love with her. Life was perfect. Me?” I snarled despairingly. “Oh I had to keep prodding and pushing. I had to know the truth! I’ve brought all this… Christ I don’t even know what to call it… this damnation to her door. I should have listened to you. I should have stayed well away. Fucking can of worms!”

  “Maybe you should have a paternity test to make sure,” my father suggested quietly.

  “Why? To humiliate myself further?”

  “Do you want another coffee?” He walked toward the kitchen, his head hung low, and with the gait of a man twice his age carrying three bags of coal on his shoulders.

  “Dad?” I followed him, keeping my tones dangerously low. “It was hard enough to get over the lies about my adoption but I did. I don’t think I could forgive another lie, not with something that’s so important.”

  He was fiddling with his mug not looking at me directly and appeared torn, his eyes shifting nervously around the kitchen. Finally he broke the silence. “I’m sorry, Brianna. I never expected anything like this to happen. But the thought of you considering taking your own life… It kills me, it rips me apart.” He began to weep. I can’t remember the last time I ever… actually, I had never seen him cry. He quickly wiped his eyes and brushed passed me. Once in the living room he sat on the sofa, and I took the seat next to him. I felt like shit for reducing him to tears.

  “None of this is your fault!” I
said quietly. “It was selfish telling you but-”

  “No it wasn’t,” he interrupted. “All of this is my fault.”

  “I don’t…”

  “Bri, Michael Callery isn’t your father.” He took my hand in his and said plainly, “I am.”

  “Jesus, I know, okay? You’ll never be replaced-”

  “No, listen, Bri. I am your father,” he emphasised.

  The Imperial March music sounded again. “You’d better start talking, Dad, and fast.” I should have been madder than a midgie in Madame Tussauds, but I steadied myself. I had to know the truth, the whole truth, and finally nothing but the truth.

  The fire died and he was cast in darkness, shadows dancing across his eyes. “When your mother, Bernie that is,” he clarified, “and I got married all she wanted was to have a family, the bigger the better. Me too,” he inserted quickly in case I judged him, “but there was something desperate in your mum, a yearning. After time passed and we didn’t conceive, a piece of her died. She didn’t feel like a real woman or wife and would cry herself to sleep every night. I threw myself into work and started doing well enough to pay for tests. Turned out Bernie had polycystic ovaries, which meant it wouldn’t be impossible to have a child, just difficult to do so naturally.”

  “Mum told me why I didn’t have any siblings. That doesn’t explain anything.” I wasn’t letting him off the hook that easily.

  “After eighteen months of prodding and pulling, Bernie fell pregnant.”

  “I never knew.”

  He nodded and there was anguish in his eyes. “It was magical. I got the woman I married back. She was so full of life; it suited her, she glowed from the inside out.” He faltered this was clearly a distressing subject for him, but if he wanted me to understand then I had to have the complete picture.

 

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