Orla silently watched as Ivy and Paul were sat out the garden, Paul trying to teach their daughter how to play snap as 90's BritPop blasted through the Alexa near Orla, a ice cold cup of cherry coke on the table in front of her, she could feel the air travelling from the small gap of her lips, through the gaps in her teeth and to the back of her throat and back out of her nose.
Orla watched and tried to think of a moment when she had been playing a game with her father. Which weirded her out, comparing Paul to her father. She had found herself thinking of her father a lot lately. Orla looked nothing like him in her opinion, she didn't look all that much like her mother either but that was besides the point.
Orla had inherited very few things from her father, her hair was the most recognisable thing, he had said she had his voice, he was most well known for being the lead of a soul group during the seventies though Orla had never actually listened to their music, and she didn't think she'd inherited his good - soothing voice either.
Her brother Ryan had once said her voice was more suited to rock, it was 'gravelly' and deep compared to other women knew, her mother had told her her voice was more Stevie Knicks than Taylor Swift. Paul had once said her voice reminded him of Florence Welsh while they were both singing along to whatever generic pop song was blasting on the radio.
Orla knew it was bad, but as a child and even as an adult she wished she had a different father. She loved her father, of course she did but he wasn't the most doting father, he was barley around for most of her life, when his children had starting having children he became much more present. Orla was glad she managed to spend some time with him before he died, even if it wasn't all that much.
She hadn't been there when her father died, her brother had recounted to her how he'd tried to resuscitate him over the phone , Orla had called Paul afterwards, trying to speak to him. He hadn't picked up.
Orla would be lying if she said she didn't resent him for not picking up for a while afterwards, especially when it came out he was probably with Phoebe Bridgers at the time.
She was a mess after her father's death and she couldn't sleep properly for months. When she did she imagined she was standing in the corner of her brothers living room, watching as her brother pushed her father's dead body around.
Sometimes she would scream, trying to help, other times she couldn't move at all, sometimes her fathers eyes would be wide open, unblinking as if his eyelids had been stuck in place sewn just beneath his eyebrows, his eyes milky and soulless, staring into her, her brothers would never notice when it did, Adam would keep trying to resuscitate him. Scott would always be there, trying to help in anyway he could.
She had picked up the phone once, the one Adam had told her was ringing, instead of someone she or rather her father knew's voice she heard a low rumble that slowly turned into an ear piercing screech. After a year the dreams had stopped, becoming less frequent as time moved on. Orla went back to using sleep medication, her doctor had changed, he'd retired and moved to Australia with his wife apparently, in his place was a twenty nine year old woman, her hair was straight and dyed blonde.
"Orla." Paul called out. Orla was snapped out of her thoughts as she recalled her doctors dark brown roots that contrasted her blonde hair. "Whas'th matter?" Orla asked looking up. "Are you alright? You seem distracted." Paul asked her walking towards her "Fine. Just don't feel very well." Orla lied, well it wasn't fully a lie. She did feel ill, but she wasn't fine.
Paul gave her a knowing look, he could tell she was lying "I feel ugly, I look so bloated, I'm hungry all the fucking time, I can't eat my favourite foods because i gag at the scent of them. I need to piss so much. Do you want me to go on?" Orla groaned. "Is it an idea for you to go to the doctors or something?" Paul questioned "I'll be put on more of those sleeping pills that don't fucking work half the time. That's all the woman ever does, ups my dosage by fifty-grams." Orla replied, she sounded how she felt, pissed off and exhausted.
Paul thought back to Orla throwing away her sleeping pills when she was about seven months pregnant with Ivy. "Maybe we should go away for a week." Paul suggested after a moment "Any ideas as to where?" Orla asked, curious as to where he would suggest "Spain?" He questioned "Spain?" Orla repeated "It should be easy enough to get a last minute booking there, Greece's a bitch for that, you said so yourself." Paul nodded, grabbing a cigarette from his pocket.
"You got a lighter?" Paul questioned, Orla nodded and handed one with Lady Gaga printed on it. Orla watched as Paul lit the cigarette and then took a drag from it "Are you sure though? I wouldn't want to-" Orla began "Orl, we're going. I'll go book it now." Paul said. Orla nodded and got up, going to Ivy who was sat on a patch of grass staring at the cards infront of her. "Mammy. You play?" Ivy asked her mother. Orla nodded and picked up the cards Paul had left.
em talks!
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