Falling in Love in New York (26 page)

All I know about his background really is that he’s very close to his Dad. He’s never mentioned his mother so I’m assuming she’s dead or no longer around for some reason. Thinking of it now, perhaps that’s why he sometimes seems sad. After all, I know myself what it feels like to lose a parent.

Anyway, back to dinner.

Me and Finn arrived at Mum’s at around one o’clock and funnily enough, he seemed nervous, although perhaps thinking about it now this was understandable, given the way I complain about her fussiness all the time.

As I said, Mum was being Mum, making a huge hoo-ha about dinner and who should sit where, so much so that she barely managed a quick hello to Finn when we first arrived.

She calmed down a bit when dinner was served, and we all took our seats around the table and eventually started asking Finn all about his work, which of course he was only too happy to talk about.

At times, I reckon he seems much more comfortable around dogs than people, and seeing him visibly relax when telling my mother all about the work they do at the guide dog centre, makes me certain I’m right. Which would only make you wonder why he’s spending so much time around me!

But for some reason, all the talk about the dogs seemed to soften my mother up a bit too and for a while it looked as though Finn had charmed her in the same way he had the others, as for the rest of the meal, we were all quite relaxed and at ease with one another as we chatted away.

But after dessert, poor Finn put the kibosh on it. I don’t know, I think he must have either been
too
relaxed or too nervous, because it really wasn’t like him to say something out of turn. And like I said before, we joke like this amongst ourselves all the time now, so I’m sure it just slipped out, and it certainly didn’t bother me.

But anyway, just as we finished up eating, I sat back in my chair and said to Mum.

“That was fab Mum, definitely the nicest meal I’ve had in ages.”

“I don’t know if that’s a compliment Mrs Ryan,” Finn piped up then, grinning at me. “Most of the time poor Abby can’t remember what she’s had for breakfast, can you?”

And just like that, there was complete silence around the table.

Nobody knew where to look. Even Caroline seemed shocked.

“Very funny,” I shot back, trying to keep my tone as light as possible, although I knew the damage had already been done.

Poor Mum looked as though she wanted to murder him and I suppose, looking at it from her point of view, you could hardly blame her. As Finn admitted himself afterwards (poor thing, he was kicking himself!), not only did it look like he was insulting her daughter, but in a roundabout way it also seemed like he was insulting her food!

“I don’t know what came over me,” he said, cringing. “It was a such a stupid thing to say – especially in front of your mother but I really only meant it as a joke.”

I knew that of course, and I suppose he doesn’t really understand how hard my mother finds all of this. I only wish she could be as light-hearted about it as Finn is, at least for my sake.

But for the rest of the day you could cut the atmosphere with a knife, and despite all the support he’s given me over the last while, I think he got a serious thumbs-down from Mum!

Oh well, I suppose things can only improve…

Finn couldn’t believe his father’s attitude. He’d been so sure Pat would be thrilled that he’d finally found someone he liked.

Abby had spent the day out in Balbriggan the day before, and when Pat popped over in the afternoon for an unannounced visit, they’d been introduced.

Then today his father had returned, not to congratulate him as Finn had hoped, but to give him an earful.

“I just don’t think that getting involved with a girl like that is the best idea,” Pat said, when Finn mentioned that he and Abby had moved past the ‘just good friends’ stage.

“A girl like what?” he asked incredulously.

“Lookit, she seems like a very nice girl, but who knows what could happen with her in the long run? It’s bad enough that she drew a blank on meeting you in America, let alone again back here. I know you think you were only trying to help the poor girl son, but really you should have run a mile.”

“What? What are you talking about Dad? Abby’s fine now. OK, well not
fine
, obviously, but she’s learning to come to terms with all this, and I’m helping her come to terms with it.”

“Bloody hell Finn, thirty-five years of age and you’re still rescuing lost bloody puppies and making them your responsibility!”

Finn’s head snapped up. “I can’t believe you just said that.”

“I said it because there’s more than a grain of truth in it, and you know it.”

He understood the point his father was trying to make, but this time Pat was wrong. While yes, of course he’d wanted to help Abby and would do anything to make things better for her, it wasn’t just about that. He’d felt something for her in New York and again when they met in the Green–back when he’d known nothing at all about her head injury or the damage it caused. And while the look on her face when he had to break the news to her about her memory loss was enough to break his heart, it wasn’t the reason he was with her now. They’d spent a lot of time together over the last while, and had grown so close throughout it was hard to imagine.

Mindful that starting a relationship or getting involved with someone in the fragile state Abby was in would be a difficult and indeed a selfish proposition, Finn hadn’t initially intended on doing or being anything other than a shoulder to cry on. And as an outsider, someone who hadn’t been there from the very beginning and one of the few people close to Abby who didn’t doubt her abilities or mental faculties, it seemed easier for her to let him into her life and share her trust. And while he was fully aware that whatever kind of relationship they had would never actually be normal, when they’d shared their first kiss that night at her flat, he knew that this was someone he really wanted in his life.

“It’s not about rescuing Abby or feeling responsible for her,” he told his father now. “I care about her.”

“Like you cared about that Danielle one, and look what happened there?”

From day one Pat had never accepted Danielle but in fairness to him, he’d kept his mouth shut and his oar out, until the day Danni packed her bags and left. Now Finn suspected he was trying to prevent the same thing happening by having his say well in advance.

“There are plenty of nice, normal women out there, Finn. Why go for the one that’s damaged?”

“For God’s sake Dad that’s a terrible thing to say!” Finn said, raising his voice. “So she has some problems, big deal. She can get around them,
we
can get around them.”

Pat gave a deep sigh. “That’s what
I
thought son,” he said eventually, looking him directly in the eye, and in the same instant Finn realised he was referring in some way to his long-absent mother.

Something Pat never did if he could avoid it.

“What are you talking about?” he asked, his voice tentative.

Pat sat down on the sofa, and leaned against his walking stick. “I suppose you know I’m talking about your poor old mother.”

Poor old mother? That wasn’t the quite the way Finn would have put it, seeing as she was the one who’d deserted them all those years ago.

After a brief pause, Pat went on. “When I married her, she had a problem too. One that I,like yourself, thought we would be able overcome together.”

“What kind of a problem?”

His father sighed. “The same one that stalks the length and breadth of this country and always has. The demon drink, Finn.”

“What?” This was the first he knew of this. “Mam was an alcoholic?”

“In the end a chronic one,” Pat said nodding. “Oh, she wasn’t too bad at the beginning, at least not that I knew of. I was aware she liked a drink, sure we all did, but usually on a Saturday night when we were out with the rest of them and not in the middle of the week with a baby crying in the other room.”

Suddenly the significance of what his father was saying hit home. “Mam drank when I was a baby?”

Pat nodded, his eyes weary. “And every day when you were growing up. You don’t remember any of it at all, Finn? Her being fast asleep on the kitchen table in the middle of the day, or not being there sometimes when you came in from school?”

Finn now cast his mind back to the day he found out his mother had left, and the broken pieces of glass on the floor. He remembered thinking that Rex must have bumped into the table or something, causing havoc like he usually did. But now, he also recalled noticing a funny smell, a bitter and a not necessarily nice smell that he’d always associated with his mother. One that he now understood must have been whiskey.

“So what happened?” Finn wanted to know now. He’d wanted to know all his life, but had never been able to get Pat to even talk about that day, much less explain it. “What happened that day to make her leave? Clearly it had something to do with this, so what was it?”

Pat sighed. “I came home earlier that day to find her passed out on the kitchen table – again. Although I loved the woman dearly, by that stage I was sick to the teeth of what was she doing, to us and our marriage, but more importantly to you. So many times I’d come home from work and find her holed up in her bedroom drinking away while you were downstairs on your own with nothing to eat and no company but poor old Rex.  I’ll tell you, you got more encouragement and attention from the bloody sheepdog than you ever did from your mother. Sure, you didn’t start talking until you were gone two.” Pat looked pained. “Imelda might have abandoned me and our marriage long before, but I wasn’t going to let her do the same to you. So a few months before that I’d given her an ultimatum, either she stopped drinking or I would insist she leave.”

Finn was horrified. “What? How could you do that? Alcoholism is a disease, surely you know that much? You can’t just kick someone out and abandon them like that! She needed help.”

“She got help and plenty of it many times through the years,” Pat told him in a flat voice. “You don’t remember her being in and out of hospital a lot when you were a boy? Then again, I suppose you couldn’t have been more than five or six in some instances, so perhaps not. Anyway, as I said she got plenty of help. But this time it was her last chance. I told her she had to choose between us–you and me, her family–or the bottle. But as always, Imelda chose the bottle.”

Now he looked at Finn. “Son, don’t think for a second that it was easy for me or that I was some kind of callous husband, only too happy to get rid of her. I loved that woman with all my heart–still do. But she had love for one thing and one thing only. And while she’d already ruined our marriage because of it, I couldn’t let her ruin our son.

So as I said, I’d told her that this was her last chance, that if she touched another drop, she’d have to leave. I had to, Finn–there was no other way. So when I came home that day earlier–I’ll admit I was spot-checking on her, seeing if I could catch her out, and that might seem underhand to you, but that’s a way of life with alcoholics–and I saw the half-empty bottle of whiskey on the table.”

Finn said nothing, and waited for him to continue.

“I sat down in front of her, poured out my heart and soul to the woman, told her what she was doing to our family, and what she would end up doing to her life but I knew she wasn’t taking any of it in. She never did. While she’d promise you the moon and the stars and you’d believe her, the next day she’d be holed up somewhere with another bottle or two. So finally, I put both the bottle and the picture of the three of us together on your Communion day down on the table. And I made her choose.”

His voice broke then, and he looked away. Finn could guess what happened next.

“I’m sorry son, I know it hurts you to hear this now, and it hurts me to have to talk about what I did back then, let alone
do
it. But it was the only way I could ensure you had the best possible chance in life. She was making life hell for both of us with her carry-on. She was no good to you as a mother. She couldn’t handle responsibility like that. So, in the end, as you probably know, she chose the bottle and in effect chose to leave.”

Finn ran a hand through his hair, unable to believe what he was hearing. “But where did she go?”

“She has relations in England, a brother, so I presume she went there first, but to be honest, I’m not really sure. I thought the fact that I’d followed through with my threat and shown her how serious I was by packing her bags and making her leave might be enough to make her realise the significance of it all. But no, she just walked out the door and I haven’t heard a word from her since. I thought maybe a birthday or a Christmas card, but nothing.”

Finn didn’t know how to feel.

“And in case you’re wondering, yes of course I tried to track her down, many times over the years, just to make sure she was OK. I loved the woman Finn, even with everything she’d done. I got in contact with the brother but to be frank, he wasn’t terribly forthcoming and I got the impression he’d washed his hands of it a long time before. So if at any stage you think about the doing the same, just keep in mind that what you find might not necessarily be what you’re looking for.”

Naturally enough, Finn
had
been thinking of looking for her, seeking his mother out and seeing for himself what kind of a person she was. But it was something he couldn’t even think about doing just now. First, he had to get his around the fact that she–his own mother–had chosen a bottle of whiskey over him. While he’d always felt her rejection very keenly, this was rejection of an altogether different kind. And Finn knew it would take him a long time to come to terms to that, never mind thinking about coming face to face with her, especially after all this time.

“But why didn’t you tell me this before? Why tell me now?”

“Because I knew you’d probably go off on some mad search for her and try to save her, that’s just your way. You’d feel responsible for her, but like me, it wouldn’t matter because you still wouldn’t be able to save her–nobody can. As I’m sure you’ve heard said many times before, no one can cure an addict that doesn’t want to be cured. If anything she could very well end up dragging you down with her. And if that happened, then what I did all those years ago would have been for nothing. So no, I didn’t tell you and I still stand by my decision.”

Finn cast his mind back to the conversation with Nora he’d overheard that time. Was this what she’d been trying to convince his father to tell him?

“Nora…did she know anything about this?”

“She’s been living alongside us for as long as we’ve been here, Finn. Of course she knew. Why do you ask?”

Finn went on to explain about what he’d heard and how he’d worried it had been something to do with Pat’s health.

“Ah, go away out of that, sure you know I’m fine,” his father said, waving an arm in protest. “Anyway,” he continued, after a brief pause. “So now you know.”

Finn wasn’t sure what to think. So he’d been right all along about his mother abandoning him, but for the first time ever, he now knew the reasons behind it.

His mother was an alcoholic.

Thinking about it now he should have guessed, should have realised that there was more to her leaving that met the eye. It was horrible, tragic and sad that his father had sacrificed everything to try and ensure he had a better life without her. And Pat was right, had he known the truth then yes, he
would
have moved heaven and earth to try and help his mother, to try and ‘save’ her, as Pat put it.

But then he remembered the reasons this discussion had come about in the first place and while he appreciated what his father was trying to say and the comparisons he was trying to make, there was no doubt in his mind that the situation he himself was in now was completely different.

“It’s not like that,” he told his father, when Pat again tried to point out the comparisons. “Abby doesn’t have an uncontrollable addiction, something that could ruin her or my life. OK, so there might be challenges ahead, but we can get through them, I know we can.”

His father didn’t seem convinced. And Finn didn’t need to read the other man’s mind to know that Pat was thinking.
I thought the very same thing.

But the opportunity to discuss this any further was lost, as just then, the telephone rang.

“Hey there buddy–still good to go for the hanging next month?”

Finn smiled. It was his good mate, Chris, whose wedding he was due to attend the following weekend. He’d asked Abby to accompany him and she’d agreed–another step in their relationship and an outward sign to Pat and indeed to everyone else that what they had was built on something real and not just on sympathy.