Secrets Left Neglected

Chapter 54

Caoilainn

"Will you pass me the mashed potatoes, Tadhg?" I ask him, reaching for the salt and pepper on my right.

"What potatoes?" he responds surprised. "There aren't any on the table, Hellcat."

"They're right there, Babe," I tell him, moving the butter closer and picking up my knife.

"No, they're not, Caoilainn," he tells me firmly, as if to put an exclamation mark at the end of his sentence. "There are no potatoes on this table."

Without thinking, I roll my eyes and go to speak but am cut off. "Don't roll your damn eyes at me, Caoilainn. There are no frigging mashed potatoes on this table!" When he stomps his fist on the lace tablecloth I jump in my seat.

I take a deep breath and try to calm myself, my hands shaking under the table. "It's not his fault," I say to myself. "It's the neglect and the brain injury speaking. He would never have acted this way before it."

Feigning calm, I reach out and gently cover one of Tadhg's hands with one of my own. Then, raising the other hand up, I separate my fingers and make my index finger stand up on its own. "Tadhg, please do me a favor. Look at my finger." I try to remember some of the techniques I saw his therapist use in their sessions.

"What?" he asks, sitting back insulted.

"You're not a doctor, Caoilainn. Don't pretend you're a gosh-dang doctor with me. I'm your husband not some crippled patient." When he crosses his arms over his chest and looks at me like I'm a bug on his shoe I count to ten in my head.

I try again. "Tadhg, just humor me, ok?" I ask. "Follow my finger."

He doesn't say a word to me, but he nods his head. I take that as confirmation and start to move my finger to the right, which for him is his left. When I get as far as the mashed potatoes, Tadhg unfolds his hands and points first at them and then at me. "They weren't there. You put them there, just now, you put them there when I wasn't looking. Didn't you?"

"No, Tadhg," I reply calmly. "They've been there the whole time and-"

"They have NOT!" he shouts at me. "No, they were NOT!"

I lean back in my seat and try not to cry. "Tadhg, they were. I'm not lying to you. They were. You just didn't see-"

"Just shut up and leave me alone!" he yells at me before getting up, banging into the left side of the table and then door jam. He leaves the dining room and stomps outside onto our porch. The front door slams against the frame and I flinch.

Caoilainn

Ten minutes later and I lift my head from my hands and rub my eyes. I'm sure they're a puffy mess by now. I suck in some extra oxygen and stand up, removing my empty plate from the table as I do.

Grabbing some Tupperware containers from our cabinets, I make quick work of boxing up our uneaten dinner. I use one of the napkins I had laid out to dab my eyes and blow my nose. Reaching into our junk drawer, I pull out my iPod and grab my headphones. Once I have them in, I turn around to clear the table and dishes while listening to my music.

I'm listening to the songs I've saved for the upcoming feis. I have both my students' music as well as my own on this iPod.

After the kitchen is straightened up, I decide to head over to the I-S.

I'm in the mood to pound something and my hard shoes will satisfy this impulse perfectly. I grab my dance duffel and head out, passing Tadhg on the way to the car. With the bare minimum of words, I let him know where I'm off to and am gone before he can get a word in edgewise. I'm in no mood for further arguing.

One at the club, I lace my shoes and beat the shit out of our old wooden floor.

Caoilainn

I am as limber as a green spring twig. I've been dancing for two hours straight and my legs feel like Jell-O. I couldn't be happier.

One of the more complicated hard shoes steps I've been working on came together for me tonight. The piece is very emotional; sensual and dark, daring the observer to continue to watch. It's a powerful piece that I hope is as mesmerizing as I intend it to be. I love traditional Irish music, but I wanted this one to be more serious, with cultural undertones weaved throughout.

Chugging back some water, I grab a towel out of my bag and wipe my brow. It's then that I notice Tadhg standing in the back corner of the room.

How long has he been there?

His hands are behind his back. Is he hiding something?

"What're you doing here?" I ask him, still trying to catch my breath after all the dancing I've been doing. "How did you get here?"

"Duncan drove me."

I raise my eyebrows. Duncan, huh? I do my best not to smile. I'm still sore over dinner. Loathe as I am to admit it, I know it wasn't really Tadhg's fault; it's his condition. It still stings, though. Despite my anger, I hide my smile behind the water bottle when I think about Tadhg reaching out to Duncan for help, if only for a ride somewhere.

"I brought you something."

"You did?" I ask him, surprised. Ever since he came home Tadhg hasn't been the same. His romantic side has taken a big hit. As I move closer to him, though, I raise my hand to my mouth and look at Tadhg. "Are they?"

"Yes," he replies, putting his hands out in front of him to reveal a bouquet of dandelions. "They're not much, but I saw them when you left and it reminded me of that time, you know?" He looks at me with hope I'll give in.

"Look, I'm sorry. I'm an ass. Forgive me?"

I grasp the bent yellow stems in my hand and laugh, reaching up to wipe Tadhg's hair out of his eyes. "Yes. Thank you, Tadhg."

Tadhg frowns out of the corner of his mouth. "I should have brought something else."

"No, these are perfect. I like them better than any other flowers you could have gotten me. Thank you."

Maybe we'll get through this trial after all. We'll just have to take baby steps and keep working at it. I know it'll be hard, but I move forward and hug Tadhg anyway. "I love you, Tadhg."

"I love you too, A rúnsearc."