Page 39 of Wild Irish

In that confession, I feel like I’ve exposed my entire soul to him.

“Maeve?”

I nod.

“Do ye want to tell me about her?”

“It was her dream to come here.”

“What stopped her?”

My chest tightens, and I have to force the words out. I hate them more than I hate anything. “Cystic fibrosis.”

His breath comes out in a heavy sigh. “Do…”

When I glance over at him, I can see what he’s thinking, the question he wants to ask. It’s what most people who know anything about CF think when I tell them about Maeve.

Shaking my head, I answer his unvoiced question. “I don’t have it.”

I can tell he tries to hide it, but I see the relief in his eyes.

“Sometimes I wonder if it would have been easier if I did.” I blink back tears, and look back at the pile of rocks in front of me. “I know how terrible that sounds. But I think that maybe if I did, there wouldn’t always be this crushing sense of guilt weighing me down.”

“Guilt? For what?”

“For surviving.” I’ve never admitted that to anyone, and I can’t stop the tears now. They roll down my cheeks, blurring my vision.

He pulls me against him, angling me so that I’m in his lap, head resting on his chest, his hands wrapped around my body protectively as I let out a small sob.

“Ye can’t feel guilty for being alive.”

“You don’t understand. She was beautiful, and smart, and kind. Everyone loved her. She didn’t deserve to suffer the way she did, to lose her life before she even got a chance to live it.”

His hand rests on the back of my neck. “Ye feel like she was better than ye.”

“Maybe.”

He sighs and strokes my hair off my cheek. “I never met yer sister, but I can tell ye with absolute certainty,ye’rebeautiful, and smart, and kind.” He cups my chin, forcing me to look at him, then drags his thumbs gently under my eyes, wiping away the tears. “And ye’re just as deserving to live as she was. But I think ye need to start living ye’re own life.”

He takes the paper from my hand, frowning as his eyes scan the page.

“I promised her…”

He starts to rip the page near the bottom, and I panic. “What are you doing?”

“Ye promised her ye’d do these things, right?”

“Yes.”

“Well, there’s only one thing on this list that I can see ye’re obligated to do.” He continues to rip the page, then hands me the small strip.

I read the words written there. “Find Your Happiness.”

He hands me the rest of it. “Ye can’t live yer own life if ye’re trying to live someone else’s.”

I know he’s right. I came here chasing Maeve’s dreams, hoping it would make me feel anything but the constant numbness that’s been with me since she passed.

The only time I haven’t felt it is when I’m with him. But even that will come to an end. And soon.

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