Migrations(73)

“You don’t consider taking the lives of two people to be an offense worthy of punishment, Miss Gupta?”

“Not when they’re accidental, Your Honor. Not to the degree of nine years.”

“When asked at the trial about her intent, the accused said she meant to cause both the deaths. I remember specifically because she was quite adamant about it.”

“I refer you again to her state of shock.”

“And the forensic evidence?” he asks. But before my lawyer can respond, the judge tires. He closes his folder of forms. “We’re not here to debate old cases. The issue at hand is whether Mrs. Lynch is a danger to her fellow citizens, or likely to reoffend.”

“I’m not,” I say. “I’m no danger to anyone.”

He considers me. I wonder what it is that he sees standing before him. Eventually he sighs. “Despite what your very assured representation insists, a jury of your peers judged you guilty. But I have here a letter of support from your mother-in-law, Mrs. Penny Lynch. She states that she’s willing to accommodate you for the period of your parole, and I’m sure I don’t need to express how much of an endorsement this is, given the circumstances. So for this reason alone I’m going to grant your parole. But bear in mind, Mrs. Lynch, that this country has no tolerance for broken paroles and even the slightest misstep will carry with it the weight of your full sentence, and additional time. So I strongly advise you to pay careful attention to the rules laid down by your parole officer.”

With that it’s finished, I’m free. I feel like giving him the finger and telling him of my plan to skip straight out of this fucking country, this country that has caused me nothing but grief. Instead I thank him politely and hug Mara, and then I’m on my way.

Niall’s mother is waiting for me outside the prison. I feel a bit like I’m in a movie, the way she’s leaning on her car. Except that she’s not the type of woman who leans on cars—that would be far too casual a stance for someone of her stature—so then why. I am wary as I approach her. I see it instantly: the toughness has gone out of her edges. The car might be the only thing keeping her upright.

“Hello, Franny,” she says.

“Hi, Penny.”

There is a long silence. It’s sunny for a change, and almost too glaring for us to properly make each other out.

“Why did you do this?” I ask her.

She rounds the car to the driver’s side. “It’s not for you. It’s for my son.”

“Can you take me to him?”

Penny nods once.

I get in the car.





27

Sterna Paradisaea, SOUTH ATLANTIC OCEAN MATING SEASON

Ennis finds me sleeping among the letters, exhausted from throwing up for most of the night. He is much wearier than I am, though—he’s been steering us over waves all night, performing miracles. It feels calm now, so he must have laid anchor.

I move over so he can slump onto the hard mattress. It’s claustrophobic down here with its low ceiling and narrow walls, but it’s nice to have him beside me.

“Where are we?” I ask.

“Think we’re about a day or so out. Go take a look.”

“You did so well last night. I’m very lucky to have met you, Ennis Malone.”

He smiles without opening his eyes. “I’m just looking for the Golden Catch, kid. What are you doing out here?”

I don’t answer.

Ennis opens one eye a crack and squints at the letters I’m sprawled atop. “I wonder if your husband knows how deeply you long for him.”

My heart flounders. If he doesn’t know, then that is my fault and mine alone.

“That’s the longing of a parting,” Ennis observes.

“Experience?”

He smiles a little. “Yes.”

I have never hated you more.

“With your wife…” I say, not sure what I’m asking but needing something.

“It was sweet for a long time,” he answers. “Simple.”

“So then why?”

Ennis rolls onto his back and looks at the ceiling. “Her name’s Saoirse,” he says. “Thirty-six when she got diagnosed with Huntington’s.”

Ennis looks at me and something in him reaches out to comfort the shock I feel, the sadness, and I’m aware of the generosity of this.

“It was a wasting thing. She deteriorated quickly, and decided I must leave her.”

“Why?”

“Because in her mind we existed somewhere sacred and she couldn’t let that be ruined. She didn’t want me to see her … lessen. It was about dignity, I think. About allowing the thing we had to remain intact. She wanted me to go back to the sea, so at least one of us could live.”

“And you left?”

“Not for a long time.” I watch him struggle, not wanting to speak. He shakes his head. “I didn’t want to go. I fought it. But I had to, I think. It was the only thing she wanted from me. I couldn’t fix her and I didn’t have anything else to give her … She didn’t trust me with the children, to be constant for them, she thought it best that I was free and they went to her parents.”

“Did she…?”

“She’s still alive.”