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Saoirse

 

 

 

“You didn’t have to do this, Da,” I said, smoothing down my skirt as my da drove his car through the bumpy dirt road that led to the farmhouse on the back of his property.

“Why wouldn’t I want to throw my little girl a birthday party? It’s not every day she turns eighteen.” He patted my knee and shot me a grin.

I forced a smile back. Actually, I didn’t turn eighteen until tomorrow, which was a few hours away still.

Truthfully, I wasn’t even sure I wanted to come. But I couldn’t miss my own party. I wouldn’t know anyone at this party. Sure, a few of them I knew from working at the lab. But they were all my da’s friends. I knew Malachi. But he’d stayed clear of me since Diarmuid scared him off at the fight night.

I couldn’t invite any of the friends I’d made at the café I’d been fired from, not that I wanted to anyway, they proved themselves to be fair-weather friends.

Moina couldn’t come from Dublin because she had to work.

And the only other person I cared about, I hadn’t heard from in months except for one brief texting session that he ended abruptly.

My da pulled up in front of a grey stone, two-level building, the surrounding field grown wild with grass and weeds. There were already dozens of cars and bikes parked haphazardly across the front lawn, now brown and dry.

I slid out of the car, fussing with my black strapless dress. I’d bought it with the money my da had given me this morning as a birthday present, a huge stack of fifty-euro bills counting up to a thousand euro. I knew better than to leave that much money lying around so I cashed it as soon as I could into my bank account—the one I’d gotten as soon as I turned sixteen.

The living room was spilling out with bodies. The air was thick with the smell of pot and I wrinkled my nose at it. On the glass table was a bowl full of blue pills, several bongs and a pile of white powder. Empty beer bottles and shot glasses littered the carpet around the table.

“Look alive, you fuckers,” my da said, stepping into the room with his arms out wide, “the boss is back.”

A cheer went up throughout the room. My da walked through the living room, getting back slaps and cheek kisses from the girls, leaving me standing at the edge.

“That’s my baby girl, Saoirse,” he yelled, pointing at me, “make her feel welcome.”

Everyone yelled out hello, one of the girls sending me a wave, a few of the men giving me appreciative looks. Suddenly my dress felt too clingy, like every curve of mine was being shown off and I wasn’t sure I liked who was looking at it.

“Let’s get you a drink, honey,” one of them said, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. “Or would you rather something…stronger?”

He was at least my da’s age, his eyes glazed, his pupils dilated. Kinda cute I guess, if you ignored his crooked teeth.

I looked around for my da. But I couldn’t see him. He must have gone out the back garden where I could see through the open back door that more people stood around a bonfire.

I was feeling less and less like this was a birthday party he’d organised just for me.

“What’ll it be?” Crooked Teeth asked. “Coke? Meth? H?”

“Um, just a drink, please.”

He dragged me into the tiny kitchen, overloaded with more bottles than a liquor store.

“You’re a very pretty lady,” he said, his eyes on my cleavage so that he managed to spill half of the rum and Coke he was pouring for me.

“I’m seventeen,” I snapped. At least until midnight, which was only a few hours away.

His grin widened as he handed me my drink. “Oh, you are fresh, aren’t you?”

I snatched my drink away from his hand, my palm sticky from where the drink had spilled down the sides. “I need to find my da.”

He grabbed my arm. “I can be your daddy, girl.”

Ew, gross. I wanted to barf. “Let go of me.”

I shoved him back and he let go of me, laughing. “I was only joking. Come back.”

I turned and ran through the living room, looking for a friendly face. A loud sniff went through the air as one of the girls sitting around the living room table snorted a huge line of white powder.

She held her nose pinched with one hand and waved at me with the other. Her voice came out nasally. “Liam’s girl. Come here and have some.”

“Er, maybe later.”

I spotted a couple in the far armchair I hadn’t noticed before, her top around her waist and his mouth around her tit, her grinding on his lap. His eyes opened and locked onto mine. Holy shit. I ducked out of the living room before he could ask me to “come here and have some” too.

I stumbled out into the back garden, the heat from the bonfire blasting against my cheeks. Where the hell was my da?

I spotted him standing with a few other men, Jase and Malachi included, all of them sharing a glass pipe, taking turns burning down the crystal in the bulb and blowing out the thick white sour-smelling smoke.

My stomach churned.

This was what I was contributing to with my work in his lab. This debauchery and waste of lives.

My da spotted me and waved for me to come over. He should have been furious that all these people were doing all these horrible illegal things in front of his seventeen-year-old daughter. But he wasn’t. “Saoirse. Come here, baby girl.”

My eyes watered. I could have lied and said that it was from the bonfire smoke. But then again, who would I be lying to?

I dropped the sticky plastic cup of bubbly amber liquid, turned and ran, ignoring the calls behind me. I ran through the house, out the front and down the road, my bag slapping against my thighs. I ran even though I was wearing high-heel shoes and could trip at any minute, twisting my ankle or breaking my neck.

I ran until I was on the road. Until I realised I had no place to run to.

“Whatever happens between us, I want you to know you can always call me if you get stuck without a ride. No matter what time. Even if I’m not your JLO anymore.”

Nowhere except…one.

 

 

 

Twenty minutes later Diarmuid pulled up beside me on this dirt road. I almost cried with relief when I saw the familiar truck.

I slid in, sucking in a breath to see him again. He was wearing sweatpants, his t-shirt on inside out, his shoulder-length hair tucked under a cap. He must have raced out as he was when I called him.

His eyes raced over me. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” I was now.

He didn’t tear his eyes away, his eyebrows dipping over his eyes as if he wasn’t convinced. “When you called you sounded upset.”

“I’m fine now.”

His lip lifted in a snarl. “Saoirse, what happened.”

I shook my head. “Nothing, I swear. I was just upset because I thought it was a party for me, but it wasn’t. There were people there I didn’t know and they were doing…doing—”

Diarmuid shook his head, raising his hand to stop me. “I don’t need you to explain the details, selkie. I’m just glad that you’re okay. And that you called me.”

I sank back in my seat and tried my best to hide the tears forming in my eyes.

“Thank you for picking me up.”

He glanced over and shot me a smile. “Anything for you.”

He drove us to his house instead of mine. I sat up in my seat when I realised where he was taking me.

“I, er…” he cleared his throat, “don’t feel comfortable with you in that house of yours alone.”

I didn’t have the heart to explain that I was mostly alone anyway.

My heart began to pound in my chest as he pulled up in his driveway. When he turned off his engine, I swear it was so loud he could hear it.

Diarmuid and I would be in his house when I turned eighteen.

Alone.

“Stay there,” he said, getting out of his truck.

Diarmuid came around to my side, opened the door for me and held out a hand. I was about to chastise him—I wasn’t thirteen anymore and could get out my-damn-self, when he spoke, sounding bashful.

“Saw you were wearing heels. Didn’t want you to trip getting out.”

God, why did he have to be so fucking perfect?

I slid my hand into his, electricity crackling up my arm and down my body, as he helped me down.

For a brief second, we just stood there, holding hands. Facing each other. Studying each other in the glow of his porch light, trying to see if the months apart had changed each other.

His eyes traced the lines of my body, heat flaring in them. With that one look, he stripped me.

Diarmuid pulled his hand from mine and locked up the truck. I followed him, my legs shaking up the short path to his door.

“You…okay?” he called back to me. It was like he could sense I was near to passing out.

“Fine,” I lied.

We entered his house and I wiped my sweaty palms on my dress. I jolted when he locked the door behind me. Oh God. Was this really happening? Was I really here?

I turned to face him. His eyes locked onto mine and he chewed on his bottom lip.

Alone.

We were alone.

“What were you doing when I called?” I blurted out. “You weren’t sleeping, were you?”

“Just watching TV. About to have a shower.”

I nodded. “You do stink.”

“Hey,” Diarmuid cried out, then took a sniff of his armpit. “I don’t smell that bad.”

I let out a small smile. “No, not that bad.”

He could never smell bad. Even sweaty and dirty he still smelled amazing to me.

“You want a shower first?” he asked.

I nodded. I wanted to get out of this dress and to wash off the splashes of rum now sticky on my legs.

“Let’s get you set up.”

I followed him through his house to his bathroom; he left and came back with a towel, a set of sweatpants and a shirt.

“These are the smallest things I own. They’re not going to fit you at all,” he said apologetically.

“That’s okay. Anything is better than sleeping in this dress,” I said, waving down at myself.

I looked up in time to catch his eyes roaming over me again. He quickly looked away when he found I’d caught him.

“I’ll leave you to it.”

He brushed past me in the tiny bathroom. The touch of his warm skin made my head spin. I squeezed my eyes shut to stop myself from passing out.

“Hey, so,” he tapped on the door frame, making me turn to face him. “You look,” he swallowed hard, “incredible, by the way.” He looked almost bashful as he spoke. “Just thought you should know that.”

“Like a woman?” I asked, my voice a near whisper.

He sucked in a breath. Nodded. “The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

I could have died happy right there.

The smile that broke out on my face hurt my cheeks.

A woman.

Finally.

Diarmuid Brennan saw me as a woman.