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The day before I was to leave, as I was packing my duffel bag, I heard someone coming up the stairs...pause for a bit...then knock. The heavy tread told me it was Aunt Mari so I said, "It's your house. Come on in."
She entered my room, her face caught in worry and uncertainty. Her visit with Ma had been for more than a month, and I could see it had been hard on her. In the week or so since her return, she'd been even more quiet than usual and would sometimes let her mind wander while fixing a meal or rinsing a dish for the washer. Then after a moment she'd snap back. If I was around, in any way, she'd cast me a near glance, huff at herself and continue on.
At night, she had taken to having more than one beer and, if the weather wasn't too chill or raining, she'd sit at a table by the pool and smoke a cigarette. She'd shifted to Virginia Slims menthol, for they were milder than the Kools. On those nights, I caught her looking up at my window, as if trying to decide to come talk to me, like she had before she went over, but she never did. So far as I knew, she never spoke with anyone about anything that might be troubling her...just sat and drank and smoked, for an hour, then went inside. So her entering, this time, was something of a surprise.
"Just checkin' to make sure ya have everything ya need for the journey," she said, almost apologetic. As if I were going to an undeveloped part of the world.
Which, in truth, was not far wrong.
She noticed the passport for the new me. I'd deliberately left out for any and all to see. She also saw a stack of pound notes; the rest of my money was in traveler's checks stuffed in a couple pairs of socks, in my duffel. Not the safest method of transport, but not easily noticed.
"You...um, you changed yer look," she finally mentioned.
I'd had my hair cut close and asked Everett to put in some reddish highlights.
"The less I look as I once did, the better," I replied.
"But, Bren..." she said, her voice still uncertain. "Is that really a concern?"
"You mean, don't they think me dead?"
"No! No. It's only...well...surely they aren't still on about the...the..."
The silence and blinding white until that leg was twisting and twirling in the air as it whispered down to land before me and blood splattered me and--
I froze, my mind a blank. That memory hadn't cut at me in so long, I felt as if I'd been punched in the gut. I had a pair of socks in hand, and my duffel open before me and had no idea what I was doing. I had to take in a deep breath and deliberately will my mind back to functioning.
You're packing, Brendan. That's all. Keep at it.
And so I did.
Aunt Mari sighed and sat on the edge of the bed to say, "Bren, I should let ya know...when ya see Bernadette...yer mother is...well, it may come as a shock. Try not to show it."
Well, at least that jolted me into breathing, again. "She...Ma does know how I'm coming, right? Not as her son but..."
"Mairead let Maeve know all about it."
Wait...what? "She...she told Maeve everything about me?! Then what bloody good does it do for me to--"
"No, no, no...not you, yerself. While she was there, she told Maeve about Brennan. A cousin. And that ya'd be willin' to come and help. And I supported that. When I was over."
I took in a long breath. It was a weak cover story she offered up, that I was slipping back into the country not as Brendan Kinsella, probable fugitive of Her Majesty's justice, but as some vague blood relation named Brennan McGabbhin. As if this would fool anyone in Derry for more than a minute or two.
I let myself sigh. So...that all but confirmed that Aunt Mari was full aware of what Uncle Sean had done to me. In my childish way, I'd been clinging to the idea she was in the dark, but that was no longer an option. Which meant she probably knew a great many other things I'd rather not think she knew. What all they were, I would not let her tell me. How much she might have shared with Mairead, I did not want to know. It was hard enough to accept the cold betrayal I felt at this. The anger.
Husband over blood. Best to keep quiet, Bren. Tuck it away in the back of your mind. You can feast on it the rest of your life, once Ma is gone.
I continued with the last of my packing. Said, "Well, that passport backs you up."
"Yes," she murmured. "Sean showed me before he give to ya. Makes ya full legal, now."
Fuck, fuck, fuck, will you just shut the fuck up?! Why do you have to say this to me, now? Why'd you tell me that? Why're you letting me know this? Fuck.
I barely kept my voice even. "As he promised."
"Yes," she murmured, again. "How long do ya think ya'll be there?"
Oh, Christ. Christ, Christ, Christ...if she was leading up to something, I wish she'd just get it the fuck out of the way and leave me be.
"No idea. Depends on Ma." I was impressed with how even I kept my voice. I looked back at her. "Will you be coming for the wake?"
She shook her head, almost sad. "I've said my good-byes. No need to show off for others."
I made myself chuckle. "I've never heard a funeral referred to, like that."
"That's Ireland. People come from far and wide to say lovely things about the dead, and nothing bad, whether they knew them or not."
I nodded. "I remember, from Da's wake."
"He was always rough with ya, wasn't he?"
"You know full well he was. But not with the girls and the youngest boy. Kieran timed his birth appropriately. Missed all his hate and anger."
"Bren, it's unkind to speak ill of the dead."
I just rolled my eyes and zipped my duffel closed.
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