NICK: O’Connor Brothers #3

by Kelly, A. S.

  “Could you try not to hurt her?” His response.

  My pain is probably even more devastating than his – because now, it’s doubled.

  I nod, too.

  He smiles sadly at me. And this smile isn’t terrifying at all – it feels like understanding. He turns and heads down the corridor, with a new weight on his heart that feeds mine.

  53

  Casey

  I step into Dad’s house and am immediately hit by the smell that drifts out of the kitchen.

  “How come you’re cooking?” I ask, peering into the saucepan, where meatballs are bubbling away in a tomato sauce.

  “Catherine’s coming for dinner.”

  “Catherine, eh?”

  He scoffs, pretending not to have heard me.

  “You guys have been having dinner together a lot, recently.”

  He stirs the sauce, turning down the heat. “Sometimes.”

  “Is she staying after dinner, too?”

  Dad glares at me.

  “What?” I ask him, laughing. “It was just a question.”

  “Too personal.”

  “Oh, come on. I’m a big girl. You can tell me these things.”

  “Do you sleep at home every night, then?”

  “That’s none of your business,” I say defensively.

  “Just like my life is none of yours.”

  I jump up to sit on the counter next to him. “Do you really hate it that much?”

  “Mmm?”

  “That I’m seeing him?”

  My dad puts down the wooden spoon and looks at me, serious now. “Him.”

  “You know who I’m talking about.”

  “Unfortunately, I do.”

  “Dad…”

  “I hate it. But I hate you going out with anyone. So I imagine my opinion is irrelevant.”

  I smile.

  “At least I already know the guy. And I definitely know a few ways to—”

  “Stop. I got it.”

  He smiles now, too, satisfied.

  “Well, seeing as you know him, maybe you wouldn’t mind if I invited him for dinner?”

  My father’s face suddenly darkens. “Here? In this house?”

  “If you prefer, we could have dinner upstairs. Alone.”

  “Don’t even think about it.”

  I slide off the countertop and plant a kiss on his cheek. “Thanks, Dad.”

  “Don’t thank me. You have no idea what he’s in for.”

  I shake my head and go back upstairs to my apartment to change out of my hospital uniform, have a shower, and mentally prepare myself for this evening. It’s not going to be easy, but I really want my dad to accept us, and realise that Nick is the man that I want. That way, the two of us can move on with our lives.

  * * *

  When Nick knocks at the door, I sprint into the hallway to answer it before Dad gets the chance.

  “Hey.” I smile happily at him.

  Nick steps closer to me and bends down to reach my mouth. He brushes his lips against mine then sighs. “It seems like so long since I saw you.”

  “It’s only been two days.”

  “Still too long.” He wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me towards him.

  My dad clears his throat from behind me. “Not in this house, boy.”

  Nick laughs and lets me go. “Good evening, coach.”

  “Fuck off with your ‘good evening’, O’Connor.”

  I shake my head and step aside to let Nick in. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to Mrs Reynolds – sorry, Catherine. Right, Dad?”

  My dad mumbles something and turns back inside, as I take Nick through to the living room to meet our guest.

  “Nick, this is Catherine, our neighbour.”

  “Nice to meet you.”

  “Nice to meet you, Nick.”

  “Are you really sure about what you’re doing?” he asks her, without hesitation.

  “What’s that?”

  “Seriously? Coach Madigan? A woman like you could get hundreds of men much better than him, with a much nicer personality, and…”

  She laughs, bringing her hand in front of her mouth.

  “Are you sure about what you’re doing, kid?” Dad appears from behind us again.

  Nick turns, his tone strangely serious. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life, sir.”

  My dad studies him for a few seconds, then closes his eyes and sighs heavily, as if something huge and overwhelming were sitting in his chest.

  “I really hope so,” he says quietly.

  This time, I know he’s serious. And I don’t know whether that makes me happy, or terrifies me.

  * * *

  We sit down at the dining table. Nick and I are next to each other, opposite Dad and Catherine.

  “So, Nick. What do you do?”

  “He’s a model,” my dad responds for him.

  “Really?” Catherine must be the only person in the world who hasn’t seen his photos.

  “I used to be,” Nick says. “I’m taking a break right now. I’m looking at other options.”

  “Sure, you’re young. You have your whole life ahead of you,” Catherine comments. My father lifts his gaze onto Nick, then, who can’t seem to bear the weight of my dad’s eyes.

  “True,” Nick says flatly.

  “I’m sure you’ll find the right path soon,” Catherine adds.

  “It’s not like I’ve just been sitting around, twiddling my thumbs,” Nick says, trying to justify himself, even though he doesn’t have to. “Lately I’ve been helping out a friend at a kids’ summer camp.”

  I turn suddenly to face him. “You didn’t tell me that.”

  He shrugs. “We haven’t had much time for chatting…”

  My dad clears his throat, and I feel my face burst into flames.

  “What camp?” he asks.

  “The UCD summer camp, for kids from seven to ten.”

  “Interesting…” Dad comments. “They’re basically the same age as you.”

  “Do you enjoy it?” Catherine interjects.

  “I was just there to do my friend a favour.”

  “Don’t you like teaching?”

  “I’m not cut out for working with kids,” Nick says, taking a few sips of his beer. “It’s not exactly up my street.”

  “Then what is your street?” Dad asks, stabbing at one of the meatballs on his plate.

  Nick takes a forkful of spaghetti and chews slowly, before responding: “As soon as I work that out, Casey’ll be the first to know.”

  And I don’t need to hear anything else.

  * * *

  Once we’ve finished eating, and had some coffee in the living room, Dad and Catherine start to load the dishwasher, and I stay sitting on the sofa with Nick.

  “We could always head upstairs and give these two some privacy.”

  “Is that for you or for them?”

  I laugh. “Both.”

  Nick slides a hand down my leg, resting it on my knee. “So, someone missed me, then.”

  “You have no idea.”

  “Come on, I’ve never seen your apartment. I’m curious.”

  “And you never will see it, O’Connor. I’ve already let you get away with too much for this evening. The door’s over there.”

  “Dad…”

  “No, Casey. No ‘dad’. You’re under my roof, kid. And under my roof, your evening finishes here.”

  Nick gets to his feet, scoffing. “Thanks for dinner,” he says to my dad, before turning to Catherine. “Hopefully I’ll see you again soon.”

  “I hope so, too, dear.”

  I accompany Nick over to the door. I stop in the doorway and cross my arms.

  Nick bends down towards my ear. “Leave your window open,” he says, before winking at me then disappearing down the driveway.

  54

  Nick

  I drove around the neighbourhood in circles for a while, then parked my car. I walked back to their house and ducked
behind the hedges, heading straight for the back of the house, where Casey’s bedroom window sits. The infamous tree is in front of me: the one that Casey would clamber up whenever she needed to sneak home without her dad finding out. She’s been up and down that thing hundreds of times – it can’t be too hard, right? I’m sure I can do it, too.

  I look up, and grab hold of the lowest branch, pushing one foot against the bark; but I slip down, almost ending up arse-first on the grass below.

  “Having trouble, there?” her voice calls from up above.

  “I’ve got it all under control.”

  “It looks like you’re struggling, O’Connor.”

  She’s taking the piss out of me. And it’s working.

  “Please. This is kids’ stuff.”

  “Shame you’re not a kid,” she points out.

  Okay. This is about my pride and dignity, now. I can’t give up. I yank myself up onto the branch and, to the right of me, I spot a foothold, which helps me push my weight up. One more push, and I wrap my hands around the branch above my head. Just when it feels like my lungs can’t take anymore, I find myself outside her window.

  “You did it,” she smiles.

  “Did you ever doubt me?”

  She holds her hand out, and I accept it, leaning towards the windowsill and sitting down. I slip into her bedroom, and she closes the window behind me.

  “Welcome to my humble abode,” she says. “And this really is humble – unlike yours.”

  “I’d like a full tour,” I say, stepping closer to her and grabbing her waist.

  “It won’t take long.”

  “Lead the way.”

  “Okay,” she says, pulling slowly out of my grasp and taking me by the hand. “This is my room. It’s basically exactly the same as when I was a kid,” she says, leading me outside and into the living room. “Dad split the two floors in half, and I took the upstairs. This is the living room, the kitchenette is over there, and then that’s the bathroom. End of tour,” she says, smiling.

  I look around me, taking a few steps into the living room. I head over to a bookcase, overflowing with dozens of books. I study their titles, not understanding a thing, but I’m sure it’s something to do with medicine. Then I turn back towards her, as she stands back, embarrassed. She’s wearing a pair of shorts and a shirt that says Future doctor across the chest. The word ‘future’ is underlined.

  “Casey?” I ask. “How come you never became a doctor?”

  “Do you really want to talk about that now?”

  “I want to talk about everything with you,” I respond, feeling the pressure rise in my chest.

  “There isn’t much to tell,” she says, heading towards the fridge and producing two beers. She opens them both, hands me one, then sits down on the sofa. I sit next to her, and she rests her legs over mine, so natural and spontaneous that it makes me smile.

  “Life, choices…you know how it goes.”

  “But you really wanted it.”

  “Didn’t you want to play rugby? But then you found yourself modelling,” she says, sipping at her beer.

  “Right now, we’re talking about you. I want to know what happened in those eight years. I want to know everything.”

  Casey sighs and puts her beer down on the table in front of us.

  “I really wanted to be a doctor,” she begins hesitantly. “I worked so hard, I got good grades, and I started to specialise. Paediatrics was my first choice.”

  I breathe slowly, trying to dull the pain spreading through me.

  “When I was in my second year, Dad got ill.”

  She doesn’t look at me, her empty gaze avoiding mine.

  “The treatment was expensive, and took a really long time,” she continues, still uncertain. “I took a year out to look after him. Thankfully, the insurance money kept us going, but after a while, that started to run out.”

  I reach across and squeeze her hand, which is resting on her leg, as if I needed something to grip onto.

  “Once he started to get better, they told him to go into early retirement.”

  “What?” I ask, my voice raising in disbelief.

  “He wasn’t the same anymore. He’d got old.”

  “There are coaches out there who are a lot older than your dad.”

  “They replaced him. They didn’t expect him to come back.”

  “Bastards.”

  “Dad didn’t take it well. It was really tough for him. First he was sick, scared he wouldn’t make it. He was afraid of leaving me on my own…” she sighs. “Then everything that happened at work…he was distraught.”

  “And you stayed with him,” I say, feeling something expand inside me, overwhelming.

  She shrugs. “It’s just the two of us.”

  “But now he’s okay.”

  “Luckily, yeah. The worst is over. He hasn’t relapsed in three years.”

  “But you never went back to studying medicine.”

  “I was so far behind. And, like him, I wasn’t the same anymore. Also,” she says, obviously awkward, “the fees were too high, and we still had to pay some of the medical bills. So I decided to do something a little easier, cheaper. It was quicker, too – that way, I could help him get back on his feet as soon as possible. I helped him out with odd jobs, too. He wanted to give me some privacy, my own space, so… Please, don’t tell him. I don’t want him to think I gave up my whole life for him.”

  It looks like we all have something to hide. This game of ‘Who’s hiding the most’ can only have one outcome: someone’s going to end up with their heart in tatters. And, unfortunately, I know who that’ll be.

  “I had no idea, Casey.”

  She looks at me and smiles sadly. “It doesn’t matter.”

  “Of course it matters.” I slide across the sofa, closer to her. I take her hand and lift it, dragging her to sit on my lap. “Jesus, Casey, I’m so sorry.”

  I hold her close to me and she leans her head against my chest.

  “The important thing is that Dad’s okay. Besides, I found another way to do what I love.”

  “And I wasn’t here.”

  The words shoot straight out of my heart.

  I wasn’t here. I packed my bags and went. I left her behind. I left my family behind. I left myself behind.

  Casey lifts her head slowly, stroking my face and forcing me to look at her. She bites her lip nervously. And I don’t know why, but I feel like I’m about to play the wrong card.

  “But you’re here now. You came back in the end, and that’s what counts. I don’t care about the past eight years, Nick. I just care about the ones to come.”

  I think feel something inside me snap in half – but I’m not sure. It’s never happened to me before. But a blind pain starts to sear through me, expanding in my chest; it’s screaming, hammering its fists against my ribs. Only I can hear it.

  And the noise is deafening.

  The pain is unbearable.

  55

  Casey

  Nick stayed with me. We sat like that, cuddled up on the sofa, drinking and talking, as if we needed to find each other again. As if we needed contact with that part of us that had been separated for all this time. I knew that this would happen sooner or later, and it was nice that it happened like that; so organically.

  As the sun started to rise, he snuck out the front door. He said that he didn’t feel like clambering down the tree, so, before my dad woke up, I made him escape, as he promised to come back and pick me up for breakfast in a few hours.

  “Where are we going?” I ask him as we get into the car.

  “To Chris’ café. The Red Cherry.”

  “I’ve never been there.”

  “Well, it’s time to fix that.”

  We step through the door and into Chris’ café. It’s almost like a diner – the kind that used to be so popular, until all those huge, American coffee chains came along. It has vintage décor, with the smell of coffee and bacon wafting through the air, and an in
timate, friendly atmosphere.

  “Good morning, you beautiful ginger,” Nick says, curtseying dramatically and making me laugh.

  Chris turns suddenly, a beaming smile spread across her face. “Good morning to you, my favourite O’Connor brother!”

  Nick laughs and hugs her from across the counter. “I’ve brought another beautiful woman along with me this morning.”

  “I can see,” Chris comments, raising an eyebrow. “Just grab a seat wherever you like, I’ll be right with you.”

  We sit down in a booth, waiting for Chris to come and join us. But as soon as we sit down, someone interrupts us.

  “I see you’ve had the same idea this morning.”

  Ian, Riley and little Jamie are standing in front of us.

  “The love of my life!” Nick cries, jumping up to go and play with Jamie, sitting contentedly in her pram.

  “Good morning, Ian,” his brother says mockingly. “You don’t give a fuck about me anymore, now that she’s come along.”

  He and Riley slide into the seats opposite me, as Nick scoops Jamie up in his arms and starts to cuddle her. I never thought Nick would be so good with kids; I always knew he had a sweet side, but I never expected this. It’s as if he’s in love, as if that baby really does light up his whole life.

  I tear my gaze away from them, my heart swelling in my chest, only to realise that Ian is staring at me. He smiles at me knowingly, then turns away, leaving me with an unexpected, inexplicable sadness.

  Chris comes over to join us, asking one of her colleagues to get our orders ready.

  “Where are your two little babies?” Ian asks Chris, who bursts out laughing.

  “I have no idea. They went out early this morning without saying anything to me. I’m worried they’re up to something.”

  “I told you to keep Ryan away from your son,” Nick interjects, sitting down with Jamie in his arms.

  “Stop spoiling her,” Ian warns him. “You can put her down, you know.”