Page 2 of Finding Him
Oh no.
Oh no it’s happening again.
Help me.
Please.
Somebody.
I’m screaming
Can’t they hear me
Why
Please
Open
Your
“Hey, hey, it’s okay bud,” something soft and feather-light contrasts the piercing ice like cold feeling that is branding my skin.
“Aw, look at him. Look his nose is twitching—”
“Shh. Shut up. What happened to not waking Claire?”
“He’s like a little bunny rabbit.” Something taps against my nose, followed by the sound of something being slapped (?) not far above my face. “Aw— ow, jeez, fine. Possessive much?”
“Oh my god—”
There’s a thump down the hall, followed by a voice calling out that instantly kicks in my sense of fight or flight.
He’s downstairs yelling at Mammy. He came home from the pub again, smelling like the drink he keeps above the fridge, and they started fighting. He yelled at me for leaving my shoes in the hall, causing him to trip over them, and Mammy jumped in and defended me. They’re always fighting lately and it’s alwaysmy fault.
Now they’re screaming but I ran upstairs. I had other things to worry about than Mammy and Daddy—not really Daddy, but Scary Da—being mad at each other. Mammy would always protect me from Scary Da’s yelling. But I would always protect my sister. I held my hands over her ears as we sat in the little landing that led to the attic, and she clutched her favorite plush dolly in her arm, sucking on her dodie. Claire was, not the doll.
The doll's name was Aoife, which had been Nanny’s name. Claire doesn't really talk yet so I named the dolly for her, after Nanny gave it to her, since they had the same red hair. Nanny Aoife was Da’s mother, and ever since she died—a few months ago, around the time Claire started walking—he came home from the pub smelling like alcohol. He left as Daddy and came home as the scary man. He fought with Mammy. He yelled about nonsense. He threw things at walls. And he yelled and yelled and yelled.
I missed Daddy.
But I won’t let the scary man yell at Claire. Just like Mam won’t let him yell at me.
Claire makes a whimpering sound. I shush her quickly.
The noises downstairs are dying down. I can hear Mam talking in the voice she always does when she finally gets Da to calm down. She’s like those people on TV who can control the circus animals. Da is a lion and he’s her responsibility. Claire is the circus monkey, and she is mine.
We’re quite the circus, the Blue family.
“Just close your eyes, Claire-Bear.”
“Claire.” I’m surprised to hear my own voice calling out. I try to roll but someone is stopping me. It smells like whiskey and flowers. All good and all bad. It smells likehimand it smells likeher.
Which one do I deserve?
“Shh, Niall. JJ went to go see her. He’ll make sure she’s alright, yeah?”
If the misplaced accent alone wasn't a dead giveaway on who the girl holding me and talking me down like I was acircus animalis, the smell would be enough to tell me. I knew her smell, I’ve grown accustomed to it in the recent weeks; It was a crutch I couldn’t afford to keep leaning on.
