On The Other Side

Chapter Two: The Crossing

I haven't been feeling my best lately, well, for quite some time, actually. I've kept this to myself, not telling Claire that when I breathe it's hot and painful, like fire. It was easier hiding my pain, the cough, when we weren't stuffed in the bottom of a stuffy, germ ridden, rat infested ship.

I can't hold the cough in any longer, I roll away from Claire and Aggie, move slowly off the small cot bolted to the wall we share. I tuck the thin, rough sheet over Claire's shoulder. She's so beautiful, her wild red hair, the tilt of her eyes, the slope of her nose, has her looking mischievous, even in sleep. Aggie, lying beside her mamaí, looking her twin. These two are my life, I need to stay strong, healthy. I can't let this sickness take me from them.

I make my way quietly to the deck of the ship, the night sky strewn with so many stars, it's a wonder to see. I cough and cough, pulling my coat up over my mouth, the cool night air like razor blades on my throat and lungs.

I pull my coat away, specks of blood are dark against the threadbare fabric. "Shite," I whisper in the blackness. I scrub my fingers over the stains, smearing them in so as not to look so much like blood than dirt.

I lift my head to the heavens, praying to God, asking him to keep me alive for my family, to see America and all she holds.

A few days later, Aggie gnaws on a hardtack biscuit made of flour and water, a hard paste really, for breakfast. She lost a tooth last night, the gap in her smile making her all the more endearing. It's five days into the voyage, the weather holding out until today, the waves crashing, causing us to be stuck in the bottom of this ship. We could only afford tickets in steerage, after all. The rats slink along the edges, the stink sticking to our very skin. The fetid air making my cough known to Claire, the pain in my chest almost unbearable.

Claire slips her arms around me, rubbing soothing circles on my back. "Will, have some water, it'll help your throat." She presses a cup of luke-warm water to my lips, the liquid only soothing for a moment. "Come lie down, you need to rest."

I don't protest when she leads me to the narrow cot, I can feel a fever coming on, this sickness overtaking me. My sweet Aggie climbs up next to me, reciting poetry she's memorized. Her little fingers combing through my hair lulling me to sleep.

I wake up in a fevered sweat, Claire wiping my forehead with a limp rag, tears staining her rosy cheeks. "Mo grá," I say roughly, I can barely speak, my throat, my body, scorching, my lips cracked and dry. "I'm so sorry I took you from your home," Tears slip down my hot cheeks, I try to lift my palm to Claire's wrist, I'm too weak, my arm falling back to my side.

"Don't talk, save your energy. You'll be fine come morn," she whispers. I can see the fear in her beautiful green eyes, "We're going to America, Will, we're going to raise Aggie," she pauses, pressing my hand to her flat stomach, "and another wee one." Her tears fall, hitting my hand, hot with a mixture of fear and joy.

My heart leaps with the same mixture, joy at another child, fear that I may not be there to see our babe. "Claire, I'm so happy, so happy to have another child with you, a sibling for Aggie." I take a painful breath. "We'll make it together on this journey. Things will be better on the other side of tomorrow." Claire smiles at that. Her Da always told her that in times of struggle, 'On the other side of fear and doubt, things will be better.'

But they don't get better. This time, they get worse. The next morning, I can feel my spirit leaving my body. I can see Claire and Aggie hovering over my limp and prostrate form. The tears and sobs coming from little Aggie break my heart.

The terror in Claire's eyes as I take my last breath is more than I can bear. I reach for mo chailíní, my girls, but my hand only wisps through them. I can feel myself fading. I leave the ship, my dream of America and my family.