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The only thing I would change would be the boy coming to pick her up. I’d seen firsthand what a shoddy marriage looked like and I wanted nothing to do with it.
When I finally opened my eyes again, the credits were rolling and my fantasy faded as reality settled back in. I was still all alone in my chilly, mildewy bedroom while Da stomped around drunkenly downstairs. No amount of wishing was going to change that.
Then the doorbell rang and I heard Da yank the door open and let out a rasping laugh.
“Well would you look at what the wind blew in,” I heard Da say loudly. “Too scared to come on your own then?”
There was a muffled response, just loud enough for my ears to recognize the familiarity in the voice but not enough for me to hear what they were saying exactly.
My heart stuttered in my chest and I sat up straight, leaning over the foot of the bed to peer out into the hallway in hopes that I could hear the conversation better.
“Finneas, don’t make this harder than it has to be,” my mam’s voice floated up to me.
My heart thudded in my chest with the realization that she had come back for me. I jumped to my feet and flew down the dingy carpeted stairs, my eyes searching her out only to find her engaged in a standoff of sorts with Da at the bottom of the steps.
There was my mam, looking vibrant and healthy as she stood with two women who I only vaguely recognized standing at her back. All of them were engaging in a glaring contest with Da as he shouted at them with a pointed finger and a beet-red face.
“You don’t deserve to be a mother,” he spat at her, his voice full of vitriol.
Mam flinched back for just a breath, her mouth slack with fright before she squared her shoulders and drew herself up to her full height.
“The courts have sided with me, Finneas, therefore I’m taking Ciara with me,” Mam said as she finally noticed me standing midway down the stairs. Dark brown eyes melted with relief as we stared at one another.
“Ciara,” her words were said on a heavy exhalation and she held her arms open to me. Despite the intimidating blockade that was my da, I hurried down the steps and leapt for her.
The smell of her unique jasmine scent filled my nose and I burrowed my way into her shirt, sucking in deep drags of it. She was wet from the rain outside and it seeped through my thin clothing quickly, but I didn’t care much. My mam was back and I’d rather be drenched forever than to lose her again.
“Oh, leanbh, I’ve missed you,” she murmured into my hair and I was suddenly glad I’d taken the time to take care of it before she arrived. “Come, let’s go upstairs.”
Taking my hand, she led me past my still fuming Da and back up the stairs.
“Be quick, Mona,” one of the women who’d come with her said. She had a severe looking face, all sharp cheekbones and dark eyes that made me feel a bit uncomfortable under her gaze.
“I know, Bela,” Mam called back over her shoulder and I could hear my da start to protest as she tugged me down the upstairs hall.
“Can it, Finneas, you lost your right to say anything when you put your hands on your wife,” the other woman snapped.
Up in my room, Mam immediately went to the wardrobe and pulled out the ratty duffel that I used to keep for when we traveled.
“What are you doing?” I asked as she began to shove what meager clothing I had inside.
“We’re going to go on a trip,” was all she replied as she dug through my underwear drawer. “Gods, did he not buy you anything to wear in the last six months? You’ve shot up half a foot and yet these are all things I bought you.”
I knew she was talking to herself at this point, a habit that I’d gained watching her for most of my life, but, like always when she did this, I answered her rhetorical question outright.
“He said that I didn’t need it,” I told her, watching as she paused and turned as if she’d forgotten I was there.
Now that the excitement over her arrival had worn off, I got my first good look at her. In the six months since she’d left she’d gained weight. Her bones no longer stuck out against her skin as if they were trying to escape and there were no telltale bruises to be covered with makeup.
In fact, it looked as if she had no makeup on at all, and yet her brown skin still had a healthy glow to it.
Not only that, Mam, who had always been vain about her own corkscrew curls, had cropped her hair close to her head.
It was like I was looking at a stranger wearing my mam’s face, and an anger that I didn’t even know I possessed started to fill me.
“I would have clothing that fits if you hadn’t left me,” I managed to say quietly and Mam’s hand froze mid reach for one of my shirts that was hanging up.
She turned, pain obvious in her brown eyes. “I had to get out to get both of us help, Ciara,” she said, her voice soft.
