The Souls of Drowned People

Chapter Thirty One

 Cillian and I went back to the docks after dinner at his house. All throughout dinner, Rachael and Bridget tried to talk excitedly about the wedding. Weddings were something to be joyous about, Rachael said. But with every mention of it, I could see Cillian getting whiter. My mother, too. They both sat silently, Cillian sitting at my left side, my mother on the right, and sipped gingerly at the soup Rachael placed in front of them, and twisted the cloth napkins.

            Cillian broke first. “That was lovely, Ma, but I’m feeling too sick to eat anything. And Moira can’t eat our food, anyway. So do you think we might be excused?” He had already stood up and pushed his chair under the table.

            “You certainly don’t have to join me, Moira,” he added, pausing by the door. “I’m just going down to the docks.”

            “The boat again?” John asked. “Son, you’ll have better luck buying a new one that building something out of that wood.”

            “It’s in good shape,” Cillian said stubbornly, and I nodded in agreement. At least it could stay afloat. “It’s almost done. I just need to finish it up a bit.”

            I waited for Rachael’s approval before getting up, and made sure to smile, like I had enjoyed a meal that I couldn’t eat.

            “Just like you and Adam,” I heard Rachael tell my mother, as Cillian and I walked out the door.

            The rain was pattering lightly against the pavement, the air cool with the mist. Neither of us had bothered with putting on shoes, and our feet lightly slapped against the wet sidewalks. We held each other tight so we didn’t slip.

            “I promised I would dance with you at the wedding,” Cillian said. “So what do you want? Waltz?”

            Anything. I shrugged. Anything with him.

            “I don’t think I’ll be as good anymore. Bridget refuses to practice with me. But I’ll try.” We reached the docks, walking to the last one. We sat on the edge, my head against Cillian’s shoulder, legs dangling carelessly above the water. If I stretched, my toes could almost brush the surface.

            “This all started because I promised you. ‘Promise you won’t get in my way’ you said, and I didn’t, but here I am now. Falling in love with you, and getting in the way of everything with the selkies. I didn’t think my promise meant that, exactly. I’ve thought about it a lot, since you came to Ballycotton. If I could go back in time, to the guest room in your house, and never promise to bring you back to Ireland, would I have done it? And I’ve decided that I would never change a thing. Things will work out. I believe it. The selkies are doing a damn good job to keep you away from me, but they won’t. Not forever. I’ll come for you. I’ll always be there for you.”

            I wished I could say the same for him.

            “Something changed, didn’t it? What you and Ronan were talking about . . . what’s wrong, Moira?”

            I shook my head. I didn’t know how to tell him. It was too many words to mouth, too much for him to understand. I didn’t have the paper, and I didn’t think that I even had the strength to tell him.

            “Well, whatever it is, it’ll be okay. See the boat? It isn’t anything special, but it’s enough. I can come visit you every day, yeah? You can help me fish.”

            I shook my head harder.

            “Moira?”

            Leaving. I felt idiotic, waving my hands toward the water and mouthing words. Leaving Ballycotton.