I’d forgotten.

How had I forgotten?

That blonde girl. Moira.

Mother of God, what had I done?

I swallowed hard, staring at the bed in horror before losing it completely and ripping the offending sheets onto the floor. I didn’t want them anywhere near me. I forced myself not to panic as I checked the wastebasket, finding used rubbers and their wrappers littering the inside. The sight made me literally sick, until my mouth was watering so badly that I had to swallow over and over again until the nausea dissipated.

I had to get rid of it all. I had to wipe it away as if it had never happened, I thought, as I tried to stuff the sheets into the small bin. I’d only once thought of my poor decisions while in Ballyshannon, during the argument with Amy in the alleyway, but at that time I hadn’t been aware of just how much I may have fucked up.

We were engaged now—set to be married quickly, and planning our lives. If Amy knew that I’d fucked a woman just hours before I’d gone to her, she’d be completely devastated. She’d never want to see me again. I could argue that we weren’t yet together, but I knew that was shit. There were expectations there, long before I’d brought Moira back to my flat. The excuse that I hadn’t made any promises was despicable; it would be using semantics to try to justify my behavior, taking no account of Amy’s feelings, or my own.

I don’t know how long I stood there, staring at nothing, but it eventually grew dark before I moved again. I slid my feet back into my boots and threw on my coat before grabbing the bin full of bad decisions and taking it out to the dumpster that sat outside my building. I tossed it in with a curse, knowing that it wouldn’t be so easy to get rid of the guilt that seemed to be burning like flames inside my chest. How could I have done such a thing?

I wasn’t paying attention as I walked up the stairs to my apartment, so I didn’t notice the two men outside my door until I was almost on top of them. I shuffled to a stop in surprise when they blocked my way, and as I looked up, my surprise turned into dread.

“Malcolm,” I greeted with a nod.

“Trick,” he answered, his expression not giving anything away.

“Can I help ye wit’ somet’in’?” I looked between Kevie’s older brother and his companion.

“Lookin’ for yer Da,” Malcolm informed me. “As a courtesy, we came here first.”

The underlying threat was not as subtle as he’d like to believe. If I couldn’t help him, he’d be on his way to my mum’s.

“I just came from home tonight,” I answered, “I’ve not seen me da in weeks. He know yer lookin’?”

“He does.”

“If I see him, I’ll let him know.”

“Do dat.”

I nodded again, then waited silently as they watched me for any sign I was lying. After years of listening to the other children snickering about the way my mum had ‘run my da out of town’, I’d learned to hide my feelings quite well. They’d not get one twitch from me.

“Good to see ye, Trick.” Malcolm said after he’d decided to believe me, clapping me on the shoulder as if we were old friends.

“Ye, too,” I replied.

I watched them walk confidently down the hall and into the stairwell before unlocking my front door and pushing inside. Jesus. I was having a hell of a night.

I strode to my phone, and as I gripped the receiver, I noticed that my hands were shaking with restrained nerves. I opened them wide and clenched them again and again before picking up the receiver once more and calling my mum.

Amy answered the phone.

“Hello?”

Her voice was like a punch to the solar plexus.

“Hello, me love.”

“Patrick! I didn’t think you’d call so soon!”

“I miss ye.” I had to clear my throat twice before I could get the words out.

“I miss you too, baby.”

“Baby?”

“Was that weird? I thought I’d try it out.”

She was such a goofball. So completely unassuming. For the first time in a long time, I felt a lump in the back of my throat as if I was about to cry.

“No.” I cleared my throat again. “No, I like it.”

“Okay. Yeah, me, too.”

“What are ye doin’?”

“Getting ready to watch a little TV with your mom while she tries in vain to teach me how to knit. What are you doing?”

I glanced at the bare bed and swallowed hard. “Just havin’ a beer and gettin’ ready to read for a while before bed.”

“You’re going to bed already? Are you eighty years old with gout and a broken hip?”

“No, I’m twenty-t’ree and have class and work tomorrow. Gotta rest up while I can.”

“I can’t wait until you’re not so busy.” She paused for a moment. “And home with me all the time. I really can’t wait for that.”

“Me, eider, love. I better get off to bed, but I wanted to hear yer voice for a moment.”

“I’m so glad you called,” she replied softly.

“Me, too.” I rubbed my hand down my face as my shoulders slumped. “Is Mum around?”

“Sure. She’s right here. Want to talk to her?”

“Please.”

“Okay. I love you, Patrick.”

“I love ye, too.”

“That’s the first time you’ve actually said it.”