Quiet Types, page 6
“Yes, I’ve lived in Phibsborough for almost ten years now, and I grew up not too far away in Finglas.”
“Do you live with family?”
She shook her head. “No, I rent a small flat on my own. I have some half-siblings who live in Glasnevin, so I go to visit them when I can. They’re much younger than me.” She motioned to the shopping bag at her feet. “I was actually just shopping for them, grabbing a few things. I’ll go out to see them when we’re finished here.”
“Ah, that’s nice. It’s always good to keep in touch with family.”
Maggie nodded but didn’t reply, shooting me a small look of thanks for pouring her tea. One good thing about my dad was how chatty he was. When he met a new person, he always asked lots of questions, which allowed me to learn things about Maggie I never would’ve learned otherwise.
“And your parents? Are they in Glasnevin, too?”
“No, they’re not, um …” She seemed upset answering the question, and Dad’s voice gentled.
“Oh, they’ve passed? I’m so sorry, love. My Claire passed away a little over eight years ago now.”
His mentioning Mam gave me a small, mournful pang in my gut. I missed my mother a lot. Some days were worse than others, and it often gave me a very specific feeling of sadness when Dad mentioned her. I wondered if Maggie felt the same sadness. She’d lost not one but two parents. That had to be painful and probably lonely, too. Compassion wrapped itself around my heart.
Maggie’s eyes gentled as she gazed at Dad. “My condolences, Eugene,” she said softly.
“Breast cancer,” said Dad. “Horrible illness. I miss her the same today as the first day she left us.”
A second painful pang echoed within me to be reminded of the day my mother died. She’d been the light in our family, the glue that held us together, and with her gone, it wasn’t the same. It never could be, but we forged ahead—or at least we tried to.
When my older brother, Ross, married his wife, Dawn, and they had their kids, Ryan and Shauna, things got a little better. We started to feel like a family again, but it would be so much better if Mam were still around. I knew that.
“What do you do for work?” Dad continued, and my attention returned to the conversation.
“Oh, I clean houses over in Ballsbridge,” Maggie replied, and I soaked in her response. I’d often wondered what she did for a living, and even though being a cleaner might seem mundane to a lot of people, it wasn’t mundane to me. Everything about Maggie was fascinating as far as I was concerned.
“I suppose it’s a lot of rich folks you work for, then?” Dad replied. “I bet that’s interesting.”
Maggie nodded. “Yes, my clients are wealthy, but it’s not that interesting. I’m just there to clean.” She took a sip of tea, then glanced at me, her voice soft when she continued, “What about you, Shay?”
God, I loved the sound of my name on her lips, loved her gentle, silky voice. “Shay works at the Balfe Hotel,” Dad replied for me while my eyes remained locked on her. “He’s a security guard.”
“Ah, yes, I can see that,” Maggie said, her eyes wandering over my shoulders and down my torso before she looked away and took a bite from her scone. She seemed embarrassed suddenly. Had she been … checking me out? I’d imagined it, surely.
Dad chuckled. “Shay’s always been a big lad. Those posh types staying at the hotel quit making trouble quick sharpish when they see him coming. Don’t they, son?”
I nodded, and Maggie’s gaze flicked to me once again. I wanted her to keep looking at me forever, couldn’t get enough of being seen by her. “Do they make a lot of trouble? The hotel guests?” she asked.
Sometimes, I signed, and Dad translated for her, “Sometimes they do, yes.”
“That must be stressful,” she went on, still studying me, eyes searching. She looked at me in a way that made me feel like she could read my mind, and it made me feel electrified somehow.
“Shay’s well able to handle himself. He goes to the gym twice a week with his cousin, Rhys,” Dad put in. “You should see the two of them together, like a pair of those bodyguards that follow the American president around.”
“The Secret Service?” Maggie asked, a hint of a smile tugging at her lips.
“That’s the one. Shay got his height from his mother’s side. A lot of big men in the Doyle family. Us Riordans are the short ones.”
“Is that so?” Maggie said, her smile growing as she took another sip of tea. I was glad my father was such a charming fellow. Women always warmed to him. But even after my mother passed away, he was never interested in anyone else. He’d said that part of his life was over, but often, I wondered if he were lonely. If he longed for companionship but avoided bringing anyone new into his life for fear of losing them like he lost Mam.
Too soon, we finished our tea, and I wished to prolong it by getting Dad to order more food, but I knew that would come across too eager. With disappointment, I watched as Maggie took the final bite of her scone, then dabbed her lips with a napkin. She buttoned up her fleece, clearly getting ready to leave.
“I better get going,” she said. “I need to catch the bus to visit my brothers and sisters. Thank you so much for inviting me for tea. I had a lovely time.” Her gaze went from me to Dad, then back to me. I smiled at her and watched her cheeks redden slightly.
“The pleasure was all ours,” Dad replied. “By the way, Maggie, if you’re not busy tomorrow you should drop over to our house for dinner. I make a roast every Sunday, and you’re more than welcome to join us.”
Maggie appeared surprised. Then she looked at me, as though trying to decipher if I condoned the invite, which of course, I did. Any excuse to spend more time with her. Some people might’ve hated the idea of having their parent invite a beautiful woman for dinner at their house right off the bat. In fact, I was certain most would prefer to get to know someone in a more public setting, like a bar or a restaurant. But I wasn’t most people. Being mute made a lot of public settings a minefield for me. So, to be able to get to know Maggie in my home, the place I was most comfortable, was far preferable to anything else. I wouldn’t have to worry about all the ways things could go wrong. I could just relax.
I nodded at her, and she flushed again. Over her shoulder, Dad shot me a wink. He was playing matchmaker, though I could hardly be mad at him for it.
“I’m not sure. I’ll have to see,” she replied shyly.
“Well, the address is number 10 Adam’s Row if you do decide to come. Shay, why don’t you walk Maggie to the bus stop? I want to have a chat with Mary before we go.”
Okay, so maybe Dad was getting a little too comfortable meddling. I glanced at Maggie, sending her a questioning look. To my surprise, she nodded. “That would be nice.”
Dad smiled happily before heading over to chat with Mary, leaving us alone. Maggie was digging in her bag, pulling out some cash, clearly intending to pay for herself. Because I couldn’t tell her it was on me, I reached out and touched her hand. She sucked in a breath, her eyelashes fluttering at the contact. I gently shook my head, then patted my chest to let her know I was paying.
“No, you don’t have to. I’m happy to pay,” she said, flustered, but I just held her gaze, not backing down.
“Oh, all right,” she finally allowed. “But next time, I’m buying.”
I smiled then because that meant she wanted to see me again. I hoped she planned to come for dinner tomorrow. The idea of her meeting my family, being in my house, appealed to me in a way I didn’t entirely understand. Inviting someone to your family home was something people did after weeks of dating or even months. Not that we were dating. Still, a part of me was eager to skip forward to a time where she knew my family and was comfortable coming to see me at my house.
She seemed to realise the meaning in what she just said and flushed further. I wanted to kiss her at that moment so badly because, although we didn’t know each other very well at all, I’d spent over half a year watching her. I felt like I knew her, and because I couldn’t use words to express how I felt, the instinct to touch her was stronger than normal.
I left some cash on the table, then motioned for her to lead the way. We left the café and headed in the direction of the nearest bus stop. A few moments of quiet passed before she said, “Your dad is a very nice man. You live with him?”
I met her gaze and nodded.
“Is it just the two of you?” she asked, and I nodded again.
“It must be nice,” she went on, almost to herself. “To have someone around.”
I remembered her telling dad she rented a flat on her own. I’d never lived alone, so I had no idea what that was like. We reached the bus stop, and the monitor said it was four minutes until the next one arrived. Only four minutes left with her. It wasn’t enough time.
She sat on the bench, and I followed suit, leaving a small gap between us.
I wanted to ask if she was going to come to dinner tomorrow, my fingers edging towards the phone in my pocket. I’d thought typing out the message was what made her flee on Friday, but maybe it was something else. Maybe she’d remembered she left something plugged in at home and had to rush back to make sure her flat hadn’t burned to the ground. Well, there was only one way to test the theory.
I pulled out my phone and began typing. Her attention was on the road, so she didn’t see what I was doing until I tapped her shoulder, and she turned. I held out my phone. On the screen it read, Will you come to dinner tomorrow?
Her eyes widened, her face turning pale, and my gut sank. My initial instinct had been right. For some reason, she appeared almost frightened to read my message. I didn’t understand, watching her throat move as she swallowed, then hesitantly she reached out to take the phone. She held it in her small, delicate hands, her brow scrunching as she stared at the screen.
She didn’t say anything for a long moment, and I honestly felt like I was missing something until it finally dawned on me. The memory of her sitting in Mary’s café, her brows scrunched as she stared at the menu, then her relief when Dad appeared and announced he’d ordered for her.
She couldn’t read.
No, that wasn’t it, I realised as I watched her study the screen. It wasn’t that she couldn’t read because she was clearly trying to, but she definitely had some kind of difficulty with it.
I was such a fucking idiot sometimes. Why hadn’t I realised sooner?
It was obvious now as I watched her try to decipher what I’d written, and something burned at my chest. I hated myself at that moment because she was trying to concentrate so hard, and her face was red like she was incredibly embarrassed.
At long last, she looked up and said, “You want to know if I’m coming to dinner?”
I bobbed my head, my expression apologetic. Her expression fell when she realised I knew she had trouble reading. I hated myself even more when shame clouded her face. She handed the phone back to me and wouldn’t meet my gaze. Again, her throat moved as she swallowed thickly.
“I’m sorry, I don’t think I can,” she whispered, then stood and held her hand out for the approaching bus. “Goodbye, Shay,” she said, still not looking at me as she turned away and climbed on the bus.
I remained sitting there as it drove away.
6.
Maggie
I was crying in public again. Well, I wasn’t exactly crying, but I was certainly welling up. I really needed to get a hold of myself because it was starting to become a habit. That week, I’d been getting an earlier bus than usual in the mornings and a later bus home in the evening. All because I was too chicken to face Shay after how I’d acted the last time I’d seen him.
Thinking about him had my heart racing because he knew. I could see it in his eyes. He’d watched me struggle to read his message before dawning realisation coloured his face. I eventually managed to decipher the sentence, but it had taken almost a full minute when anyone else would’ve read it in seconds.
I’d had such a nice time at the café with him and his dad. But now I was just full of embarrassment and shame, and I wanted the world to swallow me whole. By the time I reached the stop nearest to Ken and Delia’s house, I’d managed to pull it together. Luckily, the bus hadn’t been too busy, so no one had witnessed my tearful pity party.
My siblings lived on a quiet, leafy suburban street. The house was old, inherited by Ken from his grandfather, so they didn’t have a mortgage or anything. That was how the couple were able to live solely on the allowance they received as foster parents. Not that I thought it was easy work caring for four kids. I certainly wouldn’t be able to do it and still hold down a full-time job.
The problem was Ken and Delia were about as hands off as it came. They weren’t mean or cruel; they were just a little bit lazy. Vivi did most of the work when it came to caring for her younger siblings. She was the reason they were bathed and fed and had clean clothes.
Opening the front gate, I made my way to the door and could already hear someone screaming before I pressed the bell. It took a few minutes before a harassed looking Delia appeared, her expression impatient. “Weren’t you here last week?” she said like my presence was an inconvenience. I was startled by her attitude because she was normally fine with me coming over.
“Hi, Delia. Yes, I was here last week, and I’m sorry to disturb you. I just wanted to drop a few things off for the kids.” I held up the bag of clothes and toys, and she snatched it from my hand impatiently.
“I’ll pass it along to them, but I’m sorry, Maggie, we can’t receive guests today.”
Just behind her, I could hear my little brother crying. “Is Eamonn all right?”
She shot me a look like my concern was uncalled for. “He stubbed his toe coming down the stairs. He’ll be fine. Now, I really don’t have time.”
Her attitude confused me. Normally, neither she nor Ken minded very much when I stopped by. To be honest, I thought they liked it because it meant the kids were occupied and not bothering them.
“Have I done something to upset you?” I asked because she seemed unreasonably hostile.
She glowered at me. “Listen, if you’re thinking about applying for custody, you should know it won’t be easy. Ken and I won’t give up the children without a fight.”
I was dumbfounded. “What are you talking about? I have no intention of applying for custody.”
Delia set the bag down and folded her arms, levelling me with a no-nonsense look. “I know you saw the bank statement when you were here last week.”
Just like that, it all made sense. I’d been in the living room with Vivi, talking to her about her upcoming school trip to Glendalough, when I noticed a bank statement had been left out on the coffee table. It showed how much Delia and Ken received each month for fostering the kids, and since there were four of them, it wasn’t a small sum of money. But it didn’t mean I was going to try and take the kids so I could have that money for myself. Firstly, I’d need a house or a large apartment, which I didn’t have, and second, I wasn’t certain I was equipped to parent them, not on my own at least.
I was barely succeeding at keeping myself alive, never mind four children.
“Delia, I’ve always known how much money you got for caring for the kids. If I wanted custody, I would’ve pushed for it years ago.”
She blinked, some of her hostility fading. I wanted to add she and Ken could do with spending some of that money on the kids and getting them some new clothes, maybe a trip away during the school holidays, but I wasn’t about to push my luck.
“We know they’d prefer to be with you,” Delia said then. “But you weren’t old enough to take them when they first entered the system, and now, well, it’s been years, and you still haven’t built up a strong enough base to house them.” She sniffed. “I suppose we don’t have anything to worry about.”
Her words stung, and I suspected she knew it.
I set aside my pride when I responded, “You’ve spent the better part of the last decade raising them. I wouldn’t dream of taking them away from you, nor putting the kids through such an upheaval,” I said, and it was true. Ken and Delia might’ve been stingy and vaguely neglectful, but they weren’t outright abusive. My step siblings could sleep soundly in their beds at night knowing no one was going to hurt them, and that was a big positive as far as I was concerned.
She stepped back. “I suppose you can come in and see them. Just for a little while.”
“Thank you,” I replied, picking up the bag she’d placed on the floor and carrying it inside. I was still smarting a little from her comment about me not having worked my way up to providing a home for the kids, even after all those years. It wasn’t like I hadn’t tried. I just didn’t make enough money to save much. Whatever extra I had at the end of the month I normally spent on the kids anyway.
I went into the living room and found Vivi sitting by the window doing Shelly’s hair in a plait while Robbie was on the couch playing a game on the second-hand Xbox I’d gotten for him last Christmas.
“Maggie,” Vivi exclaimed with a wide smile when she saw me. “I didn’t know you were coming over.”
“I brought some things,” I said, holding up the bag. Immediately, Robbie dropped the game controller and came to rifle through it. He found the football jersey I’d managed to snag in his size, and he grinned.
“This is great, Maggie. Liverpool’s my favourite team.”
“I know,” I replied. “Glad you like it.”
There was a cute pair of jeans for Vivi and a dress for Shelly, as well as a puzzle game I thought they’d all like. The door creaked open, and Eamonn popped his head in, his eyes red from crying.
“Hey, Eamonn. Delia said you stubbed your toe.”
He nodded quietly and came to sit beside me. I wrapped my arms around his small frame and gave him a hug. Now nine, Eamonn had only been a baby when the kids came to live with Ken and Delia. He was the youngest and the one I worried about most because he’d always been very quiet and sensitive. He reminded me a lot of myself, actually.
