Before and After - Chapter 1

Aftermath

I arrived back at the house with cuts and bruises on my knees and feet. I hurt everywhere, my soul, calves, thighs, and head. I sat in the upstairs bathtub and washed my legs with a white washcloth. I couldn’t feel the temperature of the water. It could have been scalding, I wouldn’t know. The cloth turned red and brown.

The aching in my chest was powerful, impressive. I couldn’t register the pain which traveled from the unknown regions of my body, parts I didn’t want to know anything about, back to my skull and heart. I wished to not breathe anymore. I went to bed.

My great-aunt Mary had made up a room in her home in Ireland. I covered my head with the blankets and fell asleep, anxious, scared, cold.

I awoke. It was brighter than the nighttime. The smell of meat was coming from somewhere. I thought of red.

I pushed the covers away, just like I’d pushed him away. Get off, I thought. Nothing on top of me, nothing. I stood up instinctively and walked to the bathroom to take a shower. Ah, cleanliness.

Downstairs everyone was there. Right, this is my last day here. I’d better smile. I did. I gave hugs, though I didn’t want to touch anyone. I exchanged a smile with my cousin. Hey, Paddy. Thanks for abandoning me, thanks for letting him take me away. But he didn’t. It was my fault. I was sure.

Great aunt Mary made me eat breakfast, though the concept of ingesting food was horrific. I sat, I smiled, I tasted, I breathed. I went outside.

The sky was beautiful; no, Ireland was beautiful. Every moment had been splendid and divine. My little darling cousin Niamh came out to keep me company. So innocent, I thought. So pure.

Then came Timmy, my cousin and adoring big brother figure. Could I tell him? Should I tell him? He helped me carry my bags to the car, and packed them away, laughing and smiling. His Irish brogue seemed reminiscent of something from the past, something unclean. I stopped thinking.

I said goodbye to everyone, and passed out passionate hugs and words, though everything seemed false and tasteless. I slid into the passenger seat of Timmy’s car and waved goodbye as we drove out of the driveway, away from the farmhouse, from Tuam, from pain.

I looked at Timmy. He was short and chubby, but sweet. He kept conversation going, though I don’t remember what he asked. I answered, abruptly, disjointedly. He didn’t notice.

And then I cried. I was staring out the window at the overhanging clouds and distant mountains, when, without noticing I began crying. Then sobbing. I stopped again.

Timmy asked what was wrong, I’m sure, although I don’t remember him asking. I cried and lied and said that I would miss Ireland. I would miss my family and the people who I had grown to love. I cried and I lied.