Part 3 – Devastating Departures
APRIL 1, 1995
SITTING ON THE FOOTPATH ON OUR SIDE OF THE STREET, WE WATCHED AS A BIG, WHITE van pulled into number nine. Keith and Mark Allen climbed out of the van. Rounding the back of the van, Keith opened the door and the two of them started to retrieve their moving boxes.
“Do you think it’s an April Fool’s prank?” Feely asked in a hopeful tone.
“I wish,” I replied.
“This fucking sucks,” Gibsie muttered, balancing the small, curly-haired toddler on his lap.
“Big, fat donkey balls,” Liz agreed with a sigh.
“Guys, don’t curse,” my sister scolded. “Not in front of Beth.”
“Come on, Claire,” I argued. “If we can’t curse today, when can we?”
She shrugged but didn’t respond.
Because she couldn’t.
Because this was the worst day ever.
A few minutes later, Sadhbh came running out of the house. The smile on her face was bigger than any smile she had ever given Joe.
When she threw her arms around Keith Allen, it caused the boy sitting on the footpath beside me to bury his face in his sister’s neck and groan. “This is the worst fucking day of my life.”
“Gib,” Beth babbled, pulling on his hair. “Gibby.”
“It’s okay, Beth,” I coaxed, shifting the toddler onto my lap. “Gibs is just tired.”
Feeling bad for my friend but not knowing what to say, I nudged his shoulder with mine, wanting him to know that I was sorry that his mother was replacing his father with this man.
Meanwhile, my sister made no such promises with herself. “Ew,” she groaned from her perch on the other side of our friend. “That’s just…ew!”
Scrunching her small nose up in disgust, Claire reached over and hooked her skinny, little arm around Gibsie’s shoulder. It didn’t reach, of course—she was too little—but the gesture was there, and for some weird reason, her comfort was better received than mine. Because Gibs dropped his head on her shoulder, letting her be the one to comfort him.
I knew he was crying, I could see his shoulders jerking, but he never made a sound. It was the kind of quiet crying I saw in silent movies my grandparents used to watch. Somehow, that made it worse than if he had been screaming like a bull.
Acting like she was Gibsie’s personal bodyguard to the ordeal, Claire used her free hand to cover his eyes. I wasn’t sure what she was trying to do in the moment, shield him from the kissing or shield the world from him.
I glanced at Feely, who was sitting on the other side of Claire, and he shrugged back at me, looking as uncertain as I felt.
None of us knew what to do.
That’s when a small hand entwined with mine, sending a spark of heat through my body.
The moment I turned my head to the left and my eyes locked on Lizzie’s pale-blue ones, the familiar surge of electricity I had grown used to feeling when she was nearby surged through me. It even happened when I was alone and thought about her.
I used to think it would fade once I got used to seeing her, but having seen her almost every day for the past six months, it was safe to assume that it wasn’t going to.
I was beginning to understand why Gibs wanted to be with Claire all the time. If she made him feel the way Liz made me feel, I didn’t blame him.
Before Liz, I never really believed that a girl could be your best friend, but she was living proof of it. I preferred her company above all others and spent all my free time with her.
Claire and Gibs were so damn lucky to live across the street from each other. Lizzie lived outside of town. Her house was six miles from mine, and I wasn’t allowed to cycle over there yet. She came over with her sister when Caoimhe babysat, and she slept over most weekends, but it still wasn’t enough because when she had to leave, I didn’t feel like myself until she came back to me.
“Poo,” Bethany said then, reaching up to pull on my hair. “Poo, Poo.”
“It’s Hugh,” I corrected, while my friends all laughed. “Can you say Hughie, Beth?”
“Pooey,” she replied, smiling back at me with big gray eyes. “Poo, Poo, Pooey.”
Even Gibsie laughed this time.
At least I was useful for something.
