The Souls of Drowned People

Chapter Twenty Eight

Cillian was lying on the beach, his arms and legs spread out to his sides, waving them back and forth to make a sloppy sand angle. He had made three others already- when he finished in one spot, he simply rolled over a few times, getting sand all over himself, and started over again.

When he finally looked up with his bloodshot eyes, and mumbled, "I'm rather hung-over," it didn't come as much of a shock.

I sat down in the sand next to him, putting his head in my lap. I picked the coarse sand from his hair, bit by bit. He smelled drunk. The front of his shirt smelled overwhelmingly like alcohol, and I began to wonder if he had missed his mouth a few times.

"How drunk?" Cillian asked, even though I wasn't asking. "Today at church, you mother noticed that I was swaying a bit and looking god-awful pale, so she took me outside to get some fresh air. And I ended up violently puking my guts out in front of your poor mother. Which, for some reason, seemed less sinful than throwing up inside the church. I then proceeded to tell your mother how much I loved you, and then I apparently badly recited some poem by Yeats. And threw up again. So yes. Rather drunk. Very drunk."

I kissed his forehead. As much as I loved him, he smelled like beer and looked like he had thrown up within the past hour, and I wasn't about to go anywhere near his lips.

"It wasn't supposed to happen," Cillian continued. "It was all innocent, believe me. I don't even like drinking. But I've been such a damn mess recently. I can't sleep. So I thought, 'one or two, it won't hurt me. I'll pass out and then I can sleep' but everything blurred after a while . . . I'm just tired I guess, not thinking right, and I must have kept going, 'cause the next thing I remember is your ma holding my hair out of my face." He yawned. "I'll still tired. I still haven't slept. And now I've got such a bad headache."

He closed his eyes. "How are you?"

I pulled him back up into a sitting position, brushing his hair behind his ears. I picked up a branch that had rolled in with the tide, crawling to the patch of sand that Cillian hadn't destroyed. Writing as big as I could, trying to fit in the entire story, I started to tell him about Ronan and Aisling.

It took Cillian a few tries to understand it, but when he did, after several bad stick figure drawings and some dramatic waving of my hands, he laughed for three minutes straight.

"His cousin?" he gasped. "He's in love with his cousin? God. And I thought we were the strange ones. The selkie and the human. But at least we're not cousins. Good Lord."

I poked his stomach with the sharper end of the stick. Be serious.

"Cousins," he snorted, and then put his arm around my shoulders. "That's great news though. Great. Any way that means you don't have to marry him?"

I shook my head. Cillian sighed.

But he understands, I wrote with my stick. Us.

Cillian smiled tiredly. "He doesn't love you, though. It's not fair. For either of you. I don't even like Ronan. But if the poor guy wants to be in love with his cousin-" He badly stifled another chuckle. "then he should be allowed to love her. You can't force love."

Exactly.

"We'll figure something out. Ronan might even be on our side now, right? True love. It always wins. Or at least it's supposed to. Which leads me nicely to the only good news I've heard all week." He kissed the side of my head. "Wanna hear it?"

I nodded eagerly.

"Teague Hayes stopped by the house earlier today. It was awkward. Incredibly awkward. He kinda just stood by the front door, hands stuffed into his pockets, and I was still pretty drunk, but my ma, being my ma, invited him in for some tea. 'Forgive those who trespass again us', I guess. But anyway. It turned out, Teague came down to sorry that he was real sorry about everything. About everything with Tara, and you drowning and all. Tara's his twin sister, of course he loves her and everything, but he said it was wrong, what she did, telling everyone and trying to turn all of Ballycotton against us. And he said I could borrow their boat, 'till I get the new one made. So we've got a boat, love!"