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“Well, there’s only one person who can put a smile that wide on your face,” Mam laughed. “So I’m not going to ask who’s texting.”
“Hmm?” Blushing, I quickly pocketed my phone and exhaled a shaky breath. “Oh, it’s Hugh.”
“Yes, sweetheart,” Mam mused. “I gathered that.”
“He won’t be home from camp until Sunday,” I told her, heart still thumping wildly. “So we won’t get to see each other until school.”
“Oh no!” Mam feign-gasped. “How will the two of you ever survive?”
“He’s been gone for a week,” I reminded her with a huff. “Seven days, Mam.”
“Then I’m sure you’ll survive another four days without lover boy,” Mam laughed unsympathetically. “I have to say, I’ve missed seeing him around the house, too—although not nearly as much as your father has.”
Yeah, I was quietly confident that my father loved my boyfriend more than he loved me.
Things were tense at home, with my parents’ relationship on the rocks since the funeral, but Dad really seemed to snap out of his bad mood whenever Hugh came around.
Mam said it was because he enjoyed having another male around, but I knew better.
Dad loved Hugh because he picked up the slack for him. When he bounced, which happened frequently, Dad knew he could rely on my boyfriend to take on the role of “man of the house” in his stead.
The more my parents fought, the more my father left, and the more my father left, the more my boyfriend stepped up.
It wasn’t right how much both of my parents had relied on Hugh in the past two and a half years, but he never complained. Worse was my inability to function without him, but again, myboyfriend never faltered or shied away, and I knew with absolute certainty that the salvageable parts of my body, heart, and mind would forever belong to him.
Despite the meltdowns and mania, Hugh continued to wade into my world, like a brave knight, and shield me from the emotional shrapnel hell-bent on tearing me to shreds.
I was nowhere near good enough for this boy, nor did I deserve the patience he extended to me, but I desperately tried to be.
My mind drifted back to the shitstorm that was the summer of 2001, and I flinched when I thought about how close I had come to losing Hugh.
My sister’s first anniversary had brought with it my first truly severe manic episode, most of which I had very little memory of. I could, however, remember the shame that had engulfed me when I woke up in a hospital bed in the depths of depression. I couldn’t remember stopping taking my meds, but that’s what the doctors said happened. I couldn’t remember destroying my room, ripping Caoimhe’s pictures off the walls, or running naked through the fields at the back of our house. But that’s what they told me happened. The worst thing by far was hearing that not only did I tie a horse rein around my neck and throw myself off the upper loft in the haybarn, butHughbroke his elbow when he fell over the ledge trying to cut me down.
Hedidend up cutting me down and saving my life that day, and he never once held it against me, but I did.Iheld it against me and wouldneverforgive myself for putting him in harm’s way.
Afterward, the drop was so severe that I would spend weeks of my summer holidays in bed, barely eating, rarely showering, and generally rotting beneath the covers.
After that, I came back to life, but I was tortured by the mistakes I had made when I was high. Worst of all, I only hadmyself to blame for my actions and my dad was more than willing to tell me just that.
That dark period in my life wasn’t something I liked to think about because I was terrified that, if I thought about it too long, I would jinx myself.
Claire’s birthday a few weeks back had been another stark reminder of how quickly my world could come crashing down around me.
“Listen, I know we’ve had a hard few years, but how about we draw a line in the sand and consider you starting Tommen College our fresh start?” Mam cast a hopeful glance in my direction, and I had to force myself not to flinch at the sight of her weathered face. “Hmm? What do you say, baby girl?”
“Sounds like a plan,” I offered, willing myself to be the daughter she needed me to be.
GIRLS OF TOMMEN
Lizzie
SEPTEMBER 2, 2002
“IT’S LIKE A CASTLE,” CLAIRE EXCLAIMED, CLUTCHING HER BOOKS TO HER CHEST, ASshe twirled around in the courtyard, clearly awestruck by the medieval-looking building that would be our academic home for the next six years. “Isn’t it beautiful, Liz?”
“Yeah,” I replied, squeezing the straps of my schoolbag as I took in my surroundings of ivy-clad walls of ancient, church-like brick. “It’s something all right.”
“Mrs. Lowney said Tommen College was built in 1667,” she gushed, reeling off the stats our primary school teacher had doled out about the prestigious boarding school. “Admission acceptance is highly competitive, not to mention pricey tuition fees, and the school only offers six academic scholarships annually.”
