Migrations(51)

“Aye. I hadn’t thought that far ahead, but maybe a night or two?”

“Right. Grand. See you then.” He hangs up.

I stare at my phone. Then I walk back out into the rain, which is really falling now, and I walk all the way to the train station and I buy a ticket for the next train back to Galway.



* * *



The biology faculty is abuzz with life, which is strange for a Tuesday night. Or any night. All the lights are on and there must be at least thirty people in the department kitchen. I edge my way inside, keeping my back to the wall and looking for Niall. He wasn’t at home, which meant he’d be at work, only I didn’t realize I’d be arriving in the middle of a staff party. I have come straight from the train, my shoes squelchy, hair damp.

I spot him in the center of a group of men and women, and edge closer, wanting to know what he’s saying that has them so enthralled. There is a dark cloud over him that I can see from here.

“Humanity is a fucking plague upon the world,” Niall says.

That’s when he looks up and spots me. Our eyes meet across the space. I see relief in him, which creates the same in me, and then I see something cooler.

He moves to kiss my cheek. “You’re here.”

I nod, all the words I rehearsed on the train having evaporated.

“There’s a riot going on because some piece-of-shit poachers snuck into a sanctuary and carved off the tusks of the last elephants,” he says heavily.

My heart hurts. I can’t bear to hear it. Because we keep hearing it. And nothing changes. I could weep but for Niall the pain is much colder. I think he is really starting to lose hope.

Before I can think what to say, he shakes his head. Exhales long and slow, then pours me a mug of wine from a nearby table. “Come on,” he murmurs, leading me over to his colleagues. “Friends, meet my wife, Franny.”

There are two male professors whose names I forget immediately, a lab assistant called Hannah, and the blond lecturer who shoved a dirty plate at me—Professor Shannon Byrne. I meet her shocked eyes—she thinks she must have misheard. “Wife?”

“Wife,” Niall confirms.

“Nice to meet you,” I say.

“Lovely,” Shannon manages, shaking my hand briefly. “When did this happen, Niall?”

“Six weeks ago.”

“You’re kidding. Why weren’t we invited?”

“No one was invited.”

“You certainly kept that quiet! How long have you been together?” she presses.

Niall smiles a sharp kind of smile. “Six weeks.”

There is an awkward silence among the group.

“Madness,” I say. The tension breaks and they all make noises of amusement or understanding.

“All of love,” one of the men says, “madness.”

“My wife calls it a fever dream,” says the other. I decide to like them both.

I look at Niall and nod. “That sounds right,” and I think I can hardly recognize this person I am married to.

“I never imagined Niall could be interested in anything other than his job,” Shannon says.

“Neither did I,” Niall says.

“It’s fearless, isn’t it,” Hannah says, cheeks flushed pink.

I meet her shy gaze in gratitude. “It’s something.”

“Shannon’s head of biology,” Niall tells me. “You should sit down with her. Shannon, I’m telling you—Franny has a staggering passion for ornithology, and she’s very smart.”

Shannon’s eyes flick down to my muddy jeans. She’s wearing a navy woolen dress and heels. Her blond hair is elegantly tousled. My black mane is in a sweaty, messy braid that makes me look twelve years old. I don’t have the inclination to care, but I dart a look at Niall’s face to see if he’s noticing the discrepancy. He’s not.

Without warning he says, “A flock of crows fell in love with her as a child.”

Heat floods me.

“What do you mean?” Shannon demands.

When it’s clear I’m not about to reply, Niall explains. “She fed them every day and they started following her, bringing her gifts. It went on for years. They adored her.”

“Not every day,” Shannon says. “Not during winter.”

I look up at her. Nod.

“Not true,” she says simply. “Crows migrate.”

“Birds go where the food is,” Niall says. “Birds of the Corvidae family have the ability to recognize individual human faces. Franny became their food source so they had no need to migrate.”

Shannon shakes her head as though the very idea offends her.

Don’t, I wish, sending it out as loudly and silently as I can. Don’t take the magic from it. I feel dirty, like something precious has been sullied, like I want to get the fuck out of here, or throw my mug of wine in her face, and maybe Niall’s, too.

“It’s why I wanted you to meet with her,” Niall goes on.

“Do you have an undergrad?” Shannon asks me.

“No.”

“You haven’t studied at all? How old are you?”

“Twenty-two.”

Her eyebrows arch. “What’s that—a ten-year age gap?”