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“I grabbed my dad, pulling him off her. Threw him across the room. She sat up, pulling down her skirt. I started screaming at them both, storming around the living room yelling nonsense in Gaelic, swearwords I’d learned from my mum.
My father just stood there, shame all over his face, rubbing his hand across the back of his neck. Couldn’t look at me. Wouldn’t meet my eye. Then I said something and the air in the room completely changed.”
“What did you say?”
“I said, Rose, how could you do this to me? Fuck my own father when we’ve been steady for nearly two years.”
“Then what happened?”
“My father comes up to me, grabbing my shoulder, finally meeting my eye. He says, ‘Hold on. Did you say steady, as in currently?’
“Yes. Nearly two years. Since we were sixteen, ya filthy old man,” I said. I spit on his boots as I left. “I knew I was going to kill someone and neither of them was worth going to jail over. I stormed out of the house, figuring the best thing I could do for myself was get in my truck and ride as far away as possible.”
“And then?”
“It was when I reached the handle of my car door that I heard Rosie scream.” He takes a moment before saying, “I run back to the house, but I’m too late. My old man has got his hands around her neck. Her face had gone purple. Her eyes.” He stares down at the table. “They had this strange, glassy look to them. Like a doll.
“I pulled him off of her, but I was too late.”
God. I can’t even imagine… “He didn’t know you two were still together?”
“No. They’d been fucking the last six months we’d been dating but he told her to break it off with me and she told him she had. The final three months of their affair, he thought she was all his.”
“And he went into a jealous rage and killed her.”
“Aye. He did.”
“And you were blamed.” I think about all that I read in the article on the computer at the Chronicle that day. “And what about your father’s death?”
“He died of a heart attack the next day.”
His eyes tell me it was anything but a natural death. “Did he?”
“He did.”
I know better than to ask the question that would clear up the hazy truth that hangs in the air between us. I’m learning enough about the ways of the island to know in their eyes, his father earned whatever he got.
“My father had gone into a rage, going straight for Rosie’s throat. I could have stopped him if I hadn’t left but I truly had no idea how long it’d been going on between them, what she’d told him.” He runs a finger through his hair. “To tell you the full truth, I was in some kind of shock from seeing them there like that.”
I’m going into some kind of shock just sitting here listening to the story. “That’s a heartbreaking scene to take in.”
“Fucked up as well.” He shakes his head. “Your folks are the last people on earth you expect to screw you over.”
I think of the lack of communication from my mom. “That’s the truth.”
I stare at his handsome face. The cheekbones. The thick dark hair, olive skin, the perfectly shaped beard. And the light, lively eyes that throw you for a loop in all his darkness.
I boldly press on for more information. “So, you have killed.”
He shrugs as if it’s nothing, but I see the weight that settles on his shoulders. “It’s not something I’m proud of, but sometimes, it’s got to be done.”
He stands from his seat, stretching the tension from his muscles. He pushes his chair back in under the table. “I tell you what. You want to leave so badly? I’ll give you this one opportunity to do it. A two-minute head start. You leave, run any direction you choose. I won’t watch.”
My heart hammers in my chest. Is he being serious? I couldn’t possibly get away from him. Could I? I have been walking these hills, I’m in the best shape of my life.
“What happens if I outrun you?”
He shrugs. “You’re free to go.”
