Celtic Sister (33 page)

Hours later, Amy was leaning against the chunky bald guy, belting out random notes of a drinking song and giggling between each one. Someone grabbed her from behind. She stumbled backward and fell. When she looked up, the room was spinning violently. Amy closed her eyes and slowly opened one. She tried to focus on the person who was leaning over her and pulling her to her feet.

Sam.

His eyes were dark, angry, and disgusted.

“Do you even know what you’re singing?” he shouted as he dragged her aggressively toward the exit. Amy thought she heard one of the men from the bachelor party call her name, but his voice faded into the chaos.

“Something in Gaelic?” Amy suggested, giggling.

Sam pushed open the door and hustled her outside. “No, sweetheart, that was in English. I’ll spare you the details.”

“Don’t be a sourpuss, Sam,” Amy scolded. It sounded more like
thour-pooth
.

They were halfway up the road to Emma’s house when Sam let loose with a string of curses. “Do you realize how long we’ve been looking for you? You said you were going to the beach. Then you were going to take a nap in the room at the top of the stairs, remember? Emma aired it out for you. We assumed you were there. When we didn’t find you, we searched the whole property and talked to a half dozen neighbors in the area.” He stopped and shook his head. “I don’t know why this wasn’t the first place I thought to look, now that I think about it.”

“Sorry?” Amy said, only half sure of her apology.

“You’re an alcoholic, Amy. Face it.”

“Emma’s story just caught me off guard—”

“Emma’s story? Now all it takes is a story to make you want to be two sheets to the wind?”

Amy became indignant. “It’s not like you handled her disappearance with finesse.”

“Even during the lost decade, I didn’t drink like this. I partied.”

“What’s the difference?”

“I partied with a lot of other partiers. That’s what we did. We made a conscious effort to be derelicts.”

“That’s somehow better?”

“It was a lifestyle choice. Not an obsession.”

Amy stumbled and fell again. The word
obsession
hit a chord. It was an obsession, an ever-present, nagging voice that wouldn’t stop asking if she had enough alcohol stocked up to make it through the night.

“And when the party was over,” Sam said, “I cleaned up, or watched TV, or went to bed. I didn’t stay up drinking by myself. I certainly didn’t disappear in the middle of the day without telling anyone.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Really, Amy? Isn’t it? We’re in this beautiful country, and all you can think about is where your next drink is coming from.”

“But—”

“I can’t do this. I’ve wasted too much time already. You go home and figure out your divorce and your alcoholism. I’m going to embrace life.”

They entered Keely Cottage and a sea of lights and anxious voices greeted them. Amy squinted and shielded her eyes. She saw Emma, Samantha, and a man she didn’t recognize, probably Aiden O’Brien. The girls fawned over her. Aiden chuckled, mildly amused.

“Let’s get you upstairs,” Emma said, her voice dry but not unkind. She put one arm around Amy’s waist and proceeded to guide her to the stairs. Amy groped until her hand found the railing.

“Take her to the airport,” Sam snapped. “Dump her on a plane.”

“In the morning, brother dear. Let her sleep it off.”

Amy ascended the stairs, and Emma followed closely behind. The voices faded as the ladies entered a small room.

“He’s mad at me.” Amy plopped down on the bed.

“Yes,” Emma agreed. She closed the window until it was only open an inch. “Get some rest. We’ll figure it out in the morning.”

The room continued to spin. Amy wasn’t sure if she was going to be sick, but she didn’t have the energy to fully process the situation. She groaned.

“Can I get you something?” Emma offered.

“No. Thank you.”

“Why don’t you try to sleep?”

“I’m sorry, Emma.”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s really not. You haven’t seen your brother in fifteen years, and somehow I stole the day.”

She laughed. “You didn’t, actually. I assumed you’d just gone on a long walk and gotten lost. Nothing ever happens around here. Figured you’d talk to one of the neighbors, eventually, and get a ride back.”

“Sam made it sound as if you’d been searching for hours.”

“Well, we did make a circle with the car and a few phone calls before supper, but I convinced everyone to settle down and eat. After we cleaned up, Aiden suggested we call the pub. Sure enough, you were there. Sounded like you were having a fun time, so Sam, Samantha, and I took a walk. You didn’t ruin the day. In fact, no offense, but it was great having my brother to myself.”

“That’s good.” Amy couldn’t focus on Emma’s face, so she leaned back and closed her eyes. The fact that Emma wasn’t feeling resentful reduced Amy’s shame.

“Oh, and I forgot to tell you. Right after you left, we called my parents.”

“You did?” Amy opened one eye, but she still couldn’t focus, so she closed it again.

“My mom was dumbstruck. My dad had to grab the phone.” Emma’s voice cracked with emotion. “He said she thought she was talking with a ghost.” Emma laughed and cried at the same time. “My dad spoke a mile a minute and asked me a million questions. When my mom finally returned to the phone, she was filled with gratitude. Can you believe it? She wasn’t mad at me.”

“Of course she wasn’t.”

“I let my parents grieve for me, Amy. They effectively buried me. I can’t imagine their pain.”

“But now you can imagine their joy.”

“Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, I can.”

Emma sat on the edge of the bed. This caused Amy’s stomach to lurch, and she let out a gasp.

Emma popped up quickly. “Sorry.”

“No worries.”

“Anyway,” Emma said. “Get some rest, and we’ll talk in the morning.”

***

The sound of a fly buzzing incessantly awakened Amy. Her head seemed to pound in time with the fly’s erratic movements. Amy followed its path with her eyes and marveled at the boxy pattern it carved out in a room. A wave of nausea overcame her, and she rushed into the hallway to find the bathroom. The house was quiet. It must have been early morning. Amy puked dramatically for five minutes. No one came to check on her. It was almost lonelier than throwing up by herself in a motel room. The idea of a sleeping family that cared nothing while she writhed in discomfort was somehow more unsettling. After she flushed the toilet and rinsed her mouth, Amy fell back asleep for a couple of hours.

The next time she stirred, the house was busy and her head was pounding even more incessantly. Amy decided she preferred the lonely sleepy household of the wee hours of the morning. She couldn’t bring herself to get up and officially meet Aiden O’Brien any more than she could bear rubbing slippers with Samantha or Emma. Facing Sam was entirely out of the question. She drifted back to sleep.

What might have been seconds later, Amy awoke to find Emma sitting at the edge of the bed.

“Morning,” Emma said. “How are you feeling?”

“Terrible. Like I should.”

“Good. I guess.” Emma laughed.

“I’m so sorry.”

“Never mind that. We actually need to hustle.”

“Hustle?”

“Sam’s got you on a noon flight. We should get out of here by seven.”

Amy looked around. She didn’t see a clock.

“It’s six thirty,” Emma said.

Amy sat up. “Noon flight? Today?”

Emma nodded, frowning. “I told him you could just stay, but he’s pretty fired up. So I’m guessing you don’t want any breakfast?”

Amy made a gagging face.

Emma nodded. “Thought so.” She pointed at Amy’s suitcase, which she must have brought in with her. “This is your stuff? This suitcase and the purse?”

“Yeah.”

“Would you like a shower?” Emma gently touched Amy’s hair which probably had specks of vomit in it.

“Yes. Thank you.”

Amy washed herself quickly, dressed, and crammed everything into her suitcase. When she entered the kitchen, Samantha stared at her, a pitying expression on her face. No sign of Sam or Aiden. Emma smiled brightly, almost artificially, as if she were trying to make light of the situation for Amy’s sake.

“Well, here we are then.” She took Amy’s suitcase and led her out the door. “I’ll be back in the afternoon, Sammy. Please pick the tomatoes.”

“Sure, Ma. Bye, Amy.”

“Bye,” Amy said listlessly, and she settled into Emma’s car.

They rode quietly while Emma drove through neighborhoods and towns. Even though the sun was shining, the vibrant greens seemed muted, no longer full of magic – just fields and trees and bushes. Shame hovered around Amy like thick, yellow smog on a breezeless, ninety-five degree day. It permeated her being. She couldn’t bear to even look at Emma, so she leaned her head against the window and closed her eyes.

They got on the M8 in Cork and began to make good time.

“I should get you there before ten thirty,” Emma said, finally breaking the silence. “You’ll be cutting it close. Sorry.”

“Thank you.”

“My brother really likes you.”

Amy laughed. “Right.”

“No. Seriously.”

Amy looked at Emma, incredulous. “I highly doubt it.”

Emma glanced at Amy for a moment before returning her eyes to the road. Then she touched Amy’s leg gently. “That’s why he’s so angry. It killed him when he realized you were getting langered. Not taking a walk. Not lost. You just left without saying anything.”

Amy closed her eyes and rubbed her pounding head. “I know. I’m sorry. Haven’t I said I’m sorry?” Shame turned to anger.

“Listen,” Emma said gently. “If I thought you were just a loser with no hope of a future, I wouldn’t bring it up. I have a friend who went through this.”

Here we go.
“Yeah?” Amy asked listlessly.

“She’s been sober three and a half years now. She’s so full of joy. About four years ago, her husband almost left. Was going to take their four boys with him. That’s what finally got her attention. It was a struggle, but she managed to quit and join AA. Completely different person now. Like a breath of fresh air.”

“That’s nice,” Amy whispered, endeavoring to process a series of emotions that revolved around resentment and envy.

“So when Sam told us about all the bottles and sneaking around, I explained the situation with my friend. And for a moment, I saw a little light of hope flicker in his eyes.” Emma paused. “Then he just got pissed off again.” She glanced at Amy. “Sorry. No offense. But you drag people down with you when you poison yourself.”

Amy folded her arms. “I said I was sorry.”

“Yeah, you said it just now. But keep in mind that each time you drink, sneaking behind people’s backs, what you’re really saying is
fuck you.
”

The harsh words startled Amy, but she regained her composure. “Let him find someone else then.”

Emma shrugged. “I’m sure he will.”

Overwhelmed by shame, anger, frustration, and nausea, Amy didn’t know what to do. She desperately wished she could yank open the car door and roll out onto the shoulder. Gazing at the patch of grass, she envisioned herself lying there, clutching her head and crying. Tears silently slid down her face.

Emma touched Amy’s arm. “I’m sorry. I guess I hoped the reality of it might shake you up like it did my friend. But I know everyone is different. You’ll find your way in your own time.”

“Thank you,” Amy whispered. “It’s really just a temporary thing anyway. You understand how hard it’s been since I lost the baby. I just have to drown it out sometimes.”

“Maybe that’s all it is.” Emma’s tone said otherwise.

“Truly. Just hearing your story last night brought up a lot of stuff for me.”

“Amy,” Emma said. “Can I ask you a favor?”

Grateful for the diversion, Amy responded enthusiastically. “Of course.”

“When we go to Denver to see my parents, I’m going to talk with the police, you know, tell them my whole story from the day of the rape through ditching the Richardsons’ thug at the airport.”

Amy nodded. “I think that’s a great idea.”

“I don’t know if it will do any good, but I thought maybe…” Her voice trailed away.

“Yes?”

“Maybe if you tell your story, it will help. Maybe they’ll listen.”

“I don’t know. An old missing person case is going to be far more intriguing to them than a current scorned wife.”

“Sam told me that Brent is accusing you of giving yourself an illegal abortion.”

“He is. Who’s going to believe me over him?”

“But our stories complement one another. If we both tell them at once, the police might listen.”

“I suppose. Maybe.”

“Please think about it. Perhaps it will help to heal your grief. Maybe you won’t feel like you need to drink every night. You can figure out what God really has planned for you to do with your life.”

Amy balked. “Yeah. Right. Big plans, I’m sure.”

“You know when my friend, Rebecca, wouldn’t stop drinking herself to death, I often marveled at the absurdity of it. That this liquid substance was capable of completely destroying a human being.” She grimaced. “The ginormous waste of it all was staggering to me. Just took my breath away.”

“I’m not losing a husband and four children.”

“You’re losing my brother, Amy. And he’s a pretty cool guy. Furthermore, you are losing whatever you might be doing with your life if you weren’t recovering from hangovers.”

“Yeah, like scrubbing grease in a restaurant,” she mumbled.

“Sam told me about your job. You’re helping a family open a restaurant. That’s nothing to be ungrateful about.”

“Ungrateful?” The word hit her like a slap in the face because that was exactly what she was being. Ungrateful. The Patels had taken her in, fed her, clothed her, and given her a job. Instead of being appreciative, Amy’s tone of voice was snide, filled with mockery.

“And it’s not just about a job,” Emma continued. “You know, whether or not you have some big career awaiting you. It’s about what you are in the world. How you treat other people. Maybe you have a gift to share, but you can’t share it when you’re lying in bed or too cranky to talk to people.”