Page 25 of Finding Him
SEAMUSO’MALLEY— RB — 2
MIKEYKELLEHER— LB — 3
MARKCORMAN— CB — 5
NIALLBLUE— CDM — 13
EOINMURPHY— CB — 18
MOLLYLOCKHART— CM — 14
JOEYFITZPATRICK— DM — 6
AIDANQUINN— RM — 7
CALLUMDOYLE— LM — 15
J. BIGGS-KUZNETSOV— ST — 8
FINNMARSHALL— CF — 9
GERARDKEANE— LW — 11
Collin O’Neill— SS — 16
10
Birthday Blues
Niall
September, 2007
“DON'T PUT HIMin the ground! Please don’t put him in there!”
I could tell I was crying, that kind of sobbing that makes your throat feel like it’s been scrubbed with sandpaper. But I couldn't grasp much else—not the logic of the words spilling out of me, nor the suffocating feel of the black wool suit I was wearing. “He can’t breathe in there. You’re trapping him!”
I was projecting, of course.
I was the one who couldn’t breathe right now. The air in the graveyard felt thick, stagnant, and tasted of damp earth and lilies. All mixed with the raw throat feeling and the salt of my tears. I was making a scene, a jagged tear in the solemn and dreary fabric of the afternoon.
Mr. Ruin Everything. That was me. Always.
Uncle Paddy was the one holding me. I fought against him, my small fists thudding against his chest, but he just gathered me up like a toddler and held on. He didn't tell me to be quiet. He didn't tell me I was embarrassing the family. He just squeezed until my ribs ached, anchor-heavy against my storm.
What would I have done if I’d reached him? I’d already seen the casket. I’d seen him lying there, looking like a waxwork version of the man who used to swing me onto his shoulders. But seeing those men—Da’s friends, the fathers of my friends, lads who’d shared laughs with him just weeks before—closing the lid... that was the breaking point. And now the ropes were groaning. Now he was going down.
I could hear Claire wailing nearby, a high, thin sound that pierced the gray Irish sky. All I could see was her face, blue and frozen, like it might have been if she hadn’t survived the ice incident all those years ago. What it would have been like if someone closed her in a casket and put her in a box.
She hated the dark.
I hated this.
“Let me go,” I was sobbing, pushing Paddy’s arms.
“Shh, Nialler. Shh, now. It’ll be a’right.”
Everyone was standing around in black suits and dresses. And my dad was in a black suit too, but he wasn't standing obviously.
