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I opened my mouth—to say what, I didn’t know—but before I could really lay into her about how I felt, I heard my da shout something downstairs.
The noise seemed to remind both of us that there wasn’t enough time to have it out, not here and not when a ticking time bomb was just a breath away.
Mam’s lips pressed into a thin line and she turned away from me to continue to shove clothing into the bag.
“Argue with me later, leanbh, but for now we must go,” my mam said as she reached out to grab my hand, pulling me from the room.
“Wait!” I practically squawked as I pulled out of her grasp.
Crossing my tiny little bedroom, I pulled my copy of Ice Castles out of the television and put it into its scratched up case with shaking hands.
My mam’s face softened and she held a hand out to add it to my bag, but I shook my head.
“No, I want to hang on to it,” I insisted and snagged the little drawstring backpack I used for school off of the hook on the wall, slipping it inside.
Once I’d slung the bag on my back I reached for my mam again, relishing in the way her warm hand felt in mine.
Da was busy arguing with the stern looking woman with brown hair when we came back down the stairs again. My mam had called her Bela earlier.
“She can’t just take her, that’s not how this works,” he yelled at her, his face ruddy with rage and probably a couple of pints.
“And I told you that the courts have already told her she can, maybe show up to a custody hearing every once in a while and you’d have better luck,” Bela snapped back, the hint of some kind of accent in her voice. She sounded like one of the Slavic grocers that worked at the local Tesco up the road and always snuck me pieces of hard candy when Da bought his beer.
Da seemed to have nothing to say to that, so he wheeled around to glare at us instead. “So that’s it then, Ciara, you’re just gonna leave me here to rot?”
Guilt and the desire to escape warred in my chest.
If I left, who would take care of him? He wasn’t a very good parent, but he was still mine.
All of the fights I would get into with girls at school because they made fun of him for being a drunk came to mind. Those had been a mixture of pride and rage, because the only person who could hate him was me.
And I did hate him. So very much.
But I also felt a sense of responsibility over him.
Thankfully, I would never have to answer his question because Mam stepped in front of me, blocking my view of him as she straightened her spine. “You need to get help, Finneas, and until then I don’t want Ciara anywhere near you or me. When we got married you promised me you wouldn’t be like your da and yet here we stand.”
The words seemed to hit Da like a train because he flinched away from her, his expression going flat and far away as a thick silence hung between them. Then Mam finally broke it by pulling me the rest of the way down the stairs and the two women who came with her flanked in behind us like a protective shield.
I tossed one final look over my shoulder, expecting to find my da at least looking sad over my leaving.
But what I saw took my breath away.
Instead of grief or sadness, Da looked furious. I heard the stomp of his feet on the rotten tile foyer as he reached for me, only for his wrist to be grabbed by the shorter, redheaded woman.
“That’s quite enough,” she said and moved in a blur until my da was flat on his back, wheezing for air. “You asked for that, Finneas,” she snapped before joining us once more as we hurried down the rainy walkway.
“I see you’re finally putting that black belt to good use, Bridge,” my mam said to her dryly and I watched as the two women exchanged toothy grins. We finally made it to the black car at the end of the path and I was ushered into the back seat, my mam sliding in next to me as the other two women took the front.
“Alexei will be pleased to hear it,” Bela joked as she got into the driver’s seat and turned the car on.
The redheaded woman snorted. “More like he’ll be happy that I stop using it on him.”
I listened to the women talk quietly as the car pulled away from the curb, surprised at how comfortable I felt despite them being relative strangers.
“Bridget, can you call the boys and let them know we’re on the way?” Bela asked as she squinted to see past the deluge that was starting to come down on the windscreen. “Gods, this storm is awful.”
“I’ll call once we get closer,” Bridget said, turning in the seat until she could look at me fully. She looked like one of the faeries from the stories my mam used to read to me. All high, freckled cheekbones and hair the color of fire. “Do you remember me, Ciara?”
