My Life in Shambles(90)

“You feeding an army?” I ask as I sit down.

“I’m still not used to having such little company,” Nan says a little sadly.

“I’m glad to see you up and about,” the Major says brightly. “It’s about time.”

“It’s good to be up,” I tell him. “Though it took a few whacks from a spoon to get me here.”

“Whacks from a what?”

“Spoon!” I yell, picking up one and showing it to him.

He looks at Nan. “You hitting people again?”

“He deserved it,” she says. “And so now Padraig, have you had any more thought about what you’re going to do?”

“Do about what?” the Major asks.

“Do about Valerie,” she says loudly.

“Valerie? Is she here?” he looks around.

“No, Major,” I say in a clear and strong voice. “She’s not here. I have to figure out how to bring her back here.”

He nods. “Ah. Well why did you send her away to begin with?”

“Because he’s an eejit,” my grandmother mumbles into her stew.

“Because I’m an eejit,” I repeat. “And I was just so scared after what happened to dad, after what happened to me…I panicked.”

“It’s natural to be afraid, Padraig,” the Major says. “But don’t let it control the way you live. You won’t have much of a life if that’s the case.”

“My life is pretty shite at the moment.”

He chuckles and wags his bushy white brows at me. “No, you have it all wrong, ye do. Life is brilliant. And then it’s awful. Sometimes trivial or boring or mundane. You just have to push through all that bad stuff until its brilliant again. Always hold out for brilliant.” He winks at me.

“Major,” my nan says in shock. “That’s almost poetic. I’m surprised at ye.”

He shrugs. “Nah, it reminds me of one of your mother’s poems on the wall there,” he says to me, digging into his stew.

“She was brilliant too,” Nan says. “Always looking for the bright side in anything, always ready to persevere through the shite. You’re her son, Padraig. Remember that.”

My chest is in knots at the fear that I might be too late. What if I reach out to Valerie and she doesn’t want anything to do with me? What if I broke her heart beyond repair?

No, I tell myself. That’s not how you were raised to think.

No what if.

Even if you broke her heart beyond repair, you’re going to take the time to put it back together again.





*



The next morning there is a knock at my door. I set my alarm so I could actually be up at a reasonable hour for breakfast and not sleep the day away but I think I hit cancel the moment it went off.

“I’m up,” I say groggily, trying to sit up. My legs were really burning last night but thankfully they’ve stopped with the spasms.

The door opens and my nan sticks her head in. “Padraig?”

“I’m getting up,” I tell her, throwing the covers back. “Don’t hit me.”

“No, stay,” she says to me quietly. It’s the tone of her voice that makes me pause.

“Didn’t I miss breakfast?” I ask her, noticing she’s carrying a piece of paper in her hands.

“It’s okay, I put it aside for ye when you’re ready,” she says coming forward. “I know you need your rest and I must admit, I do feel a bit bad that I’ve gone and whacked ye with the spoon like that.”

I raise my brow. She never feels bad. “What happened to tough love?”

“Perhaps I think you’ve had enough of it,” she says and she holds out the paper for me.

I take it from her. “What is this?”

“It’s for you. I was just tidying up in yer father’s room and I found it behind the bed.” I open it and see barely legible handwriting in black pen written crookedly across the page. “It’s from yer father.”

I can’t look at it. I glance at her. “Did you read it?”

She nods. “I did.” Then she turns and leaves the room.

Oh fuck.

What could this be?

I take in a deep breath and my hands are shaking the paper as I look down at it and try to read.

Son, it says and tears automatically spring to my eyes, just from that one bloody word, just from one last word from my father.



Son,

I can’t sleep because I can’t stop thinking about what I said to you. I can’t sleep because there isn’t much life left in me. I hope I can even finish this letter. I hope you can understand it. I’m afraid if I close my eyes that it will be the end and I can’t let it be the end unless I tell you that I love you. You were never a disappointment Padraig. I’ve always been so proud of you and too stubborn to say it. I’ll tell you that now in case I don’t have the strength to write it later.

When your mother told me she was pregnant with Clara, I was so happy and yet so bloody scared. We were both older and I was worried about her. At the same time I wanted to make sure with Clara I didn’t make the same mistakes with you. Because I did make mistakes. Maybe every father does. Maybe I’m just not cut out for being a father but you do what you have to.