"Dadaí! "Aoife exclaims.
"There is no need to hide it, dear. If it makes you happy, you could have told me first. I only tell you this- you are grown now Aoife, and your mother would have been proud. I suppose she would have been better of speaking to you of this, but let me tell you. These are hard times Aoife. Desperate times even. I just want you to be sure of what you are doing. You are still a child, and I want to know that you will not regret this later. After all, young love hardly lasts long. So who is he?"
Aoife wonders if her father was, perhaps, speaking of the time she had met the banshee in her own house, but given that her father assumes it was a boy, she decides to go along with it.
"You will not be angry if I tell you?"
"Will I have reason to be?"
"Dearthaír mór" she mumbles.
"What was that?" her father asks.
"It isn't anyone like that. It's just Nolan."
"Nolan? Alma's son?" he asks more surprised than angry. "I definitely didn't expect that. Does he know who you are?"
"Of course he does! He is nice to me, father. I'm sure that someday, aintín Alma and Aodhán will get along with us too."
"So you have seen them as well?"
Sneaking out of the house is one thing, but lying is definitely another. It is not something Aoife wants to indulge in with her father, and so, she nods, guilty.
"When you were still young, I tried to make amends, you know- mostly for your sake. You needed a woman who could love you the way no man ever can. I wanted you to grow up not having to know that such biases exist, but every time, an open hand was met with a fist. I did not intend to keep you away out of spite, child. It was so that the bitter words that would be thrown at you would not hurt you."
She can see where he is coming from. After all, they hadn't been too welcoming with her either, and this is years after her mother's death.
"They weren't all that rude to me, daid," she says, hoping he would understand what she was getting at.
"I know, child. We didn't always hate each other."
"Daid... what really happened that night? Is it true, what they say?"
He stiffens at the question, and once more, a brief look of pain flashes in his eyes at the reminder.
"I'm sorry I-"
"No. No, it is all right. It's time I told you the truth. You deserve to know it. What do you want to know?"
"They say you did naught but sit beside her the last few days, father. Is it true?"
"Yes. Yes, it is."
"But you loved her. You loved mamaí!"
"I loved her more than life. I still do, M'iníon, and we both love you as much if not more. Never forget that."
"Then why?"
"I was scared, Aoife. Tell me, how much do you remember about my family?"
Aoife thinks a while. She has never heard much of her father's past, especially after her mother's death. It has always been a dangerous topic to discuss openly, for the past holds much pain.
"I remember a bit about your family. Your father, mother, and two siblings," she says, unsure if she should go on.
"Yes. Go ahead, it's quite alright."
"You said you never knew one of your sisters. She died young. The others did not live long enough to know me. They knew mother, though."
"True. Do you remember anything of that sister?" he asks, only to give the answer himself. "No. Our parents never spoke of her. Only deirfiúr did.
Those nights our sister was dying, father had never been at home. He looked far and wide for some sort of remedy. He wasn't there when she died, Aoife. He never got to tell her how much he loved his little flower. He never said his farewells, and it almost made him mad with grief and guilt for not being there. None of our lives were the same after that, and for me, that was the only life I'd ever known. Sometimes, I feel like I still remember my sister's touch, but that is all I have ever had of her, too young to remember much else.
Over the years, our father changed, but that grief never left him. I still remember his laments, that he should have known that the banshee's cry was never false. That had he stayed by his daughter's side instead of going on a vain search, he would have had a chance to see her smile at him one more time.
That night, when your mother was ill, I was scared the same would happen to me, Aoife, and it would only have been worse, for she was mo shíorghrá. My father's guilt had affected me hard enough. I did not want to become like him, for I needed to be there for my daughter. For you. I couldn't have left you to grow up with a shattered man for a father."
That night, tears flow freely, for there is nothing more to be hidden between father and daughter. In each other's arms, the draw comfort as they share memories both sad and happy, each glance a promise to stay with one another till death drew them apart. When death came for them, they would finally be reunited with the woman who had meant everything to them, and once more, they would wait till their little family was whole once more.
The next morning, they are both late to rise, for the tears have drained a lot out of them, though the burden has finally been shed. This time, Aoife tells her father she is getting ready to meet Nolan, though it seems she did not have to go at all, for even as she opened the door, three faces greeted her. Three unexpected visitors, though not unwelcome. In a total contrast to her aunt's welcome, she practically throws the door open as she ushers them into the house. She is all but beaming with joy, and Nolan looks much the same. At least, the two of them are smiling enough for everyone put together.
Aodhán just doesn't look too happy about it, while Aoife's aunt and father just look at each other not knowing what to say. All in all, it is one of the most awkward family reunions they have ever had.
"About that day, I-"
"Don't. I'm here for the girl, and only for her."
He looks at Aoife whispering something to Nolan and it lightens his heart to see her smile.
"She is a good child. If anyone deserves it, it's here. Thank you, even if you want nothing to do with me."
"Yes... That she is. Something she said just kept coming to me and I felt she was right. I lost my sister, but I would never regret knowing her. Maybe the boys and Aoife deserve each other too."
"Will you come often? I'm sure she'll like that. If it bothers you, I'll make myself scarce."
"I wouldn't mind. The girl is not stupid. I will keep my peace and you keep yours. A truce of sorts, for now."
"A truce."
In the distance, Aoife leads Nolan out the door even as they both ignore Aodhán's words of protest.
"So where are you taking me, Aoife?"
"Well, I promised you something, did I not?"
YOU ARE READING
Tears Unnumbered [EDITING]
Narrativa Storica*Featured on multiple official reading lists* Even in death, Bláthnaid has found no peace. With a character that sounds like she has come straight out of myth, she struggles with a burden which no one in the world knows of but has felt. She is no m...