Unfixable

Chapter Ten

“Are you shagging my brother, then?”
My first sip of orange juice gets stuck in my throat. Pedestrians veer around me as I choke and sputter like an a*shole on the sidewalk. It’s not a planned or convenient stall tactic, but at least my coughing fit gives me time to formulate a decent answer to Faith’s innocently posed question. There are two ways I could handle this, I figure. Tell her the truth, which is no and leave out the fact that shagging Shane is beginning to seem like an idea on par with the invention of Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups. Or I could put on my big girl panties and be completely honest.
“I’m thinking about it.”
Faith tilts her head and I can tell she’s now seeing me through a different lens. The girl-who-wants-to-shag-my-brother lens. I’ve had quite a bit of experience with something similar, since every man with a pair of eyes has wanted to sleep with my sister at some point. In the beginning, it was uncomfortable knowledge to have, but you learn to control the gagging after a while. In Faith’s case, I’m willing to bet she has encountered her fair share of girls looking to get the inside track on Shane. Since I know what that feels like, my first obstacle will be to make damn certain she knows I won’t be needling her for pointers on how to secure Shane’s undying love. I don’t want it.
“Listen, Faith—”
“You know, he’s leaving.”
I nod and sip my juice. “So am I.”
She stares at some point beyond my shoulder. “He always leaves.”
I don’t know how to respond to that. I’m afraid if I push, she’ll think I’m digging for information. This casual-shagging business is difficult to navigate.
“So it’s just an affair?”
I swallow a laugh. “I don’t know if I’d call it an affair, since nothing’s happened. Also, we’re not actors in an old-timey movie.”
“What would you call it?”
“Temporary.”
Faith starts walking again and I move to catch up with her. When I feel a little surge of panic at the possibility she doesn’t want any more to do with me, I realize I’ve already come to consider Faith a friend. Dammit, she’s found a way to creep in, just like Shane told me she would. “Does this bother you, because if it does—”
“It’s not the shagging that bothers me—”
“Let’s agree to drop that word.”
Faith frowns. “Fine. It’s not the fu—”
“And back to shagging.”
We reach the edge of Merrion Square Park and begin walking down a pathway leading us farther into the grassy field. Absently, I notice the park is way more packed than usual, but I chalk it up to the rare sunshine. Faith has gone quiet beside me, for once, so I focus on her. “What part of it does bother you?”
“It’s just that I like you so much, Willa.” Faith slows to a stop, shooting me a hesitant look. “Since I can remember, Shane has loved racing. It’s his life. Sometimes I think there’s no room for anything else.”
Without looking, I toss my empty juice carton in the garbage can. “I appreciate your concern, but I don’t need him to make room.”
“Do you have room, Willa?”
I swallow hard, unnerved by the question. “For what?”
She opens her mouth to answer, when I hear two familiar voices approaching behind me. Faith’s blooming smile confirms the newcomers’ identities, so I don’t even need to turn around to know its Patrick and Brian. “I thought we were going shopping,” I stage-whisper to Faith.
“You owe me.” She’s barely paying any attention to me now. “After all, you’re shagging my brother.”
“Not yet,” I remind her tightly as Faith floats past me, turning just in time to see her throw her arms around Brian’s neck, nearly toppling him back onto the weathered guitar slung over his shoulder. And there certainly won’t be any shagging if Shane finds out I just escorted his little sister to a date with a pickpocket. There’ll be a lot of glaring, followed by some glowering.
When Brian and Faith show no signs of breaking their hug, Patrick rolls his eyes conspiratorially at me, but he has a giant grin plastered to his face. “Fancy meeting you two doves here.”
“You expect me to believe this is a coincidence?”
Brian tucks Faith into his side. “It’s no coincidence. Yous two are here to serve as our cheerleaders.”
Patrick laughs at my lost expression. “The Street Performer World Championship is on today in the park. Did you not wonder at all the people milling about?”
“I thought they were here for the sun,” I respond lamely, finally taking notice of the huge white tents just beyond the trees, the pumping strains of music and cheering in the distance. “Does this mean you’re performing?”
“And winning, hopefully,” Brian chimes in, smiling down at Faith. “Although you could say I’ve already won my prize.”
Patrick and I both groan. “You’re embarrassing the family name, brother,” he says.
It occurs to me then, that in order to arrange this little meeting, Brian would have needed Faith’s phone number. Obviously their relationship had progressed further than I’d thought. I’ll need to keep an eye on that, I think, before I remember I’ll only be in Dublin for another two weeks. Ignoring the tug in my chest, I sigh. “Well. Since we’re already here, I guess I can overlook the fact that I was lured away from my laundry under false pretenses and stick around for the show. I forgot my pom-poms, though.”
“Throw in a few high kicks and all’s forgiven,” Patrick says, patting me on the shoulder.
Brian and Faith trudge off ahead of us, plastered to one another’s side, and Patrick and I follow at a slower pace. I’m kind of surprised to find I’m not at all upset over being duped. As we get closer to the busker’s stage where Brian and Patrick will perform, I’m actually kind of excited to watch the competition. I might even have a beer to celebrate this new, easygoing Willa I seem to be morphing into.
Patrick bumps me with his hip, and I stumble on the grass. “What was that?”
“Did I overhear that someone is shagging?”
“Jesus,” I mutter, slapping a palm to my forehead.
“I know it’s not me. Sad to report, I’m in the midst of a dry spell.”
Laughter races up my throat. “Sorry to hear that.”
“Not half as sorry as I am.” He hikes up his guitar on his back. “So we know it’s not me getting shagged. It sure as hell isn’t Brian. We share a wall.”
“Oh, you found another place to live?”
“Ah, she’s talented at changing the subject, she is,” he teases with a grin. “We’ve moved back in with our ma. It’s only temporary, mind you, until our offer on the yacht gets accepted.”
“Duly noted,” I say with mock seriousness.
“It should be any day. Really, our financials are above reproach.”
I press a dainty hand to my chest. “I’m sorry, did I look skeptical?”
“Permanently.”
“That’s entirely fair.”
“So unless I’ve completely misjudged our Faith, I’d say Willa is the one doing the shagging.” He ignores my eye roll, merely looking thoughtful. “Is it the bloke who came to fetch you that night in O’Kelly’s? I guess he’s easy enough on the eyes, if you go for the tall, physically fit type.”
“This is not open for discussion.”
“It’s him, then.” Patrick jogs to catch up with me when I begin to speed walk away from him. “All right, I’ll leave off about it. You can’t blame me for being jealous. He’s a lucky man.”
My gaze shoots to his, but he’s already muttering something to Brian. His brother says back something that sounds like an insult and they begin to wrestle in the grass, to the utter delight of Faith, whose skin has already begun to go pink in the sunlight. I’m happy, at least for now, the spotlight is off my nonrelationship with Shane. I haven’t even had enough time to think about it myself, let alone field uncomfortable and unwanted questions. Worse, when people talk about me and Shane in relation to one another, it implies we’re a couple, which we’re not and never will be.
When I realize my fingers are pressed to my still slightly puffy lips, I shake myself and run to catch up with the others. For the next few hours, I’m not going to let my suddenly raging hormones stop me from having a good time.
Patrick and Brian check-in as participants and receive their entry paperwork. We buy a round of beers and sit on the grass toward the side of the performance area. For the next hour, we watch their stiff competition take the stage. Jugglers, contortionists and break dancers among them. Faith sits on Brian’s lap and he teachers her a few chords on his guitar, praising her efforts even when it sounds like a cat being run over. My developing beer buzz, along with the sunshine makes the antics happening on the stage infinitely more funny. Soon I find myself heckling or cheering along with the rest of the crowd.
In between acts, I lay on my back and look up at the cloudless sky, wondering why my usual reservations have taken an extended vacation. Is it because no one in this country knows or expects a certain type of behavior from me that I feel so free to loosen up?
People like us, we keep too much inside already. We can’t bottle up everything or we go crazy.
Shane’s words from last night drop out of the sky and scatter across my prone figure. At the time, I thought his meaning had been purely physical, but now I wonder if there wasn’t more to it. For so long, I’ve kept all my demons inside, just as he said. I’d released them one at a time to Evan in a way that wouldn’t scare the hell out of him, but it hadn’t freed me. Oddly, it had only made me feel more and more restrained. He’d encouraged me to open up, as if once I released the ugliness, it would to turn to ash and I could start acting normal. But what is normal? And if there is such a thing as normal, is that what I want to be?
My thoughts are interrupted when Brian and Patrick are called to the stage. I clap and cheer dutifully as they scramble to their feet, but I’m drowned out by Faith’s two-finger mouth whistle that turns several heads on our direction.
“Oh, would you just look at him, Willa? He is such a ride.”
“A souped-up Cadillac,” I confirm, laughing into my beer. “Have you two set the wedding date yet?”
“Not yet.” Her eyes twinkle at me, telling me she’s in on the joke, but enjoying the idea nonetheless. “But I fancy a summer wedding. Somewhere exotic, like. You’ll come, won’t you?”
“Wouldn’t miss it.”
Patrick and Brian begin their song, this act already vastly different from their daily one on Grafton Street. Mainly, because no one is pickpocketing the audience. That I can see, anyway. Patrick plays a complicated, yet familiar, riff on the guitar, then Brian copies it even faster. It sounds like the opening of “Welcome to the Jungle” by Guns and Roses. Patrick challenges Brian with another riff and with a confident smirk, Brian plays it back with twice the flair. They’re dueling with guitars, and the audience is completely eating it up, choosing sides and cheering for their favorite brother. When their time is almost up, Patrick plays the notes to “Crazy in Love” with a head nod in my direction, causing Faith and I to dissolve into laughter.
They don’t win, but they do take third place, which comes with a fifty-dollar prize. They act as if they just won the Super Bowl.
Brian returns from the stage and throws an arm around Faith. “Come on. This fortune is already burning a hole in my pocket.”
“There’s beer to be bought, ladies. Join us?”
I’m actually shocked to see that evening is already beginning to fall. We’ve been sitting and watching the performances for hours and I’m kind of anxious to get Faith back to the inn. She told me she’d been given the day off, but I can easily see her neglecting to tell me she’s due back for the night shift in the pub. With the tension between her and Shane, she’d probably relish the chance to blow it off, leaving her brother high and dry. Yesterday, I probably wouldn’t have given a shit one way or the other, but I can’t help but feel I owe him one after this morning.
“Faith, I think we should head back.”
Her face falls. “Just one drink?”
I’ve only been in Dublin for two weeks, but I’ve learned enough to know that “just one drink,” roughly translates to stumbling in shit-faced at two in the morning. Hating to be the one to kill the mood, I begin to hedge, but Brian interrupts me.
“Why don’t we all head back to the Claymore Inn?” He nudges Faith’s chin. “I heard a rumor they serve the best cod and chips in town.”
Okay, I seriously need to get around to trying the damn fish, but then Brian’s suggestion registers. I can only imagine Shane’s reaction when Brian and his little sister walk in, glued together at the hip. He’ll blow a gasket. Based on Faith’s expression, I know she’s thinking along the same lines, but my relief is replaced with dread when I see the mischief cross her face. Clearly, she’s warming to the idea of pissing off her brother.
I barely stifle a groan. “I don’t—”
“Let’s go.” She avoids my eyes. “I know the owner, so I might even be able to negotiate us a good table.”