Fiction at Courage, my friend

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Winter Rain, part 76

My heart thumps in my chest, as I strain to hold his gaze.

Fuck.  What am I supposed to do now?  Why isn’t he just throwing me out.  What’s he after?

And what can I tell him that won’t make things worse?

Fuck!  Why did I let Eoin pull me into lying about what happened.  What the hell was I thinking?

My palms feel wet, but I stifle the urge to wipe them on my pants.  I open my mouth to speak, but no words rise to fill it.

For fuck’s sake, Tiergan, stop it.  You did what you did.  Either he’s going to throw you out or he’s not.  Just get it over with.

I take a deep breath, and let it out slowly. 

“What do you want to know?” 

“You can start with what happened to Eoin.”

I laugh sadly, and settle my gaze on the shoulder of his chair, behind him.  I can’t quite meet his eyes.  “I attacked him, Sir,” I say at last.  My voice sounds quiet, even to me.

“I see.  And Garvey?”

I look down, away.  Ashamed of myself.  And rightly so.  “He tried to stop me.  He bit me”—I force my eyes to his—“and I kicked him to get him off.”

“I see,” he says, without emotion.

“And your cousin?”

And my cousin.  My wonderful, loving, supportive, dickhead, backstabbing cousin.

Goddamned Brennan.

Yeah, well . . . that’s irrelevant. 

“That’s a family matter, Sir.”

“Yes.  Yes, it certainly is.  And considering the hole you are in, you are going to tell me, anyway.”  His voice is perfectly calm, without menace. 

But I’m menaced, nonetheless.

“Brennan was . . . unhappy, Sir, with my behaviour.”

“Understandable.  And?”

“Sir . . . please . . . . ”

He cuts me off.  “Tiergan.  My patience is finite.”

Fuck. 

Fine.  Rock and a hard place.  Time to man up, Tiergan.

I straighten in my chair.

“He challenged me, Sir.”

He raises an eyebrow.  “Really.  Should I be speaking with him, now, then?”

I feel a smile flicker across my lips, but it’s gone of it’s own accord, before I have a chance to pull it back.

Pride.

Which comes before a fall, right?

Well I guess it’s the only I thing I can be proud of, tonight.

“No, Sir.”

“I see,” he says again.  Without emotion.  Again.

He breathes in slowly, watching me all the while, then finally releases me to shift around and back into his seat.  I glance down at my bloody leg, and stay where I am.

“I think I get the picture.” he says quietly.  He smiles and shrugs: “Thank you for being honest with me. 

“So . . . I guess you’d better tell me the whole story.”

“Sir?”

“What you were going to tell me earlier, outside?”

I shake my head sharply.  “No.  No, you were right, Sir.  It was a mistake.  I shouldn’t have said anything at all.”

He smiles again.  “Tiergan . . . I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s going on.”

Help me?  Help me? 

What the fuck?

“Sir . . . I . . . I don’t understand what it is you want me to say . . . .  I’m sorry about what happened, I’m sorry I fucked this all up.  I didn’t come here to cause you trouble, Sir—honestly, I didn’t. 

“Everything was my fault, Sir . . . . 

“I didn’t mean to hurt Garvey.  Honestly, Sir, I really like him . . . . 

“And Eoin . . . he caught me at a really weak moment and I . . . 

“ . . . and it . . . 

“ . . . and it made me angry.  It made really angry to feel so weak in front of him. 

“I’m pathetic, Sir, okay?  And I’m disgusted with myself.  He was trying to help me and I lashed out at him because he made me feel weak.

“And Garvey did exactly what he should have done, Sir.  He did what I would have done, had I been in his place. 

“I deserved everything I got.

“So, please, Sir, that’s it, that’s the truth.  That’s what happened.  So if you’re going to beat me to a bloody pulp, or throw me out . . . could you just get on with it, please.  Because I know I deserve it.  And I’m worn out from hating myself for my choices, and I’ve honestly got nothing left for whatever game it is you want to play.”

The room falls silent, and I hold his gaze for a moment of pleading, then shift my eyes away.  I become acutely aware of the crackle and hiss of the fire, and the ticking of a clock somewhere behind me.

“Do you know why you’re still here, Tiergan?” he says, after an eternity.

“Sir?”

“Why I haven’t thrown you out.”

“No, Sir,” I reply, and hang my head.

I hear him chuckle.

“Because I trust the people in my life, Tiergan.”

“Sir?”

“Eoin could have come to me with what happened and . . . well, things would not have gone well for you.

“But he didn’t.  And if he considers the matter settled, then, so do I.  Because I trust him to ask for my help when he needs it.

“As for Garvey, well, I don’t think you hurt him too badly, and I’m inclined to ignore it, given what happened to your leg.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

“Don’t thank me, Tiergan.  Thank Eoin, next time you see him.  He’s the one who got you out of this mess.

I nod, but he doesn’t wait.

“But that’s not my point.  Tiergan, I don’t think you’re acting in your own best interests, right now.  You seem both aware of your volatility, and worried by it.  And it seems pretty clear to me you feel like you are in whatever mess you’re in all alone.

“What I’m telling you, Tiergan, is we’re pack animals.  Alone isn’t good.  Alone doesn’t work for us.

“Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“Yes, Sir,” I reply.  I nod, but I avoid his eyes.

“Good.  Good.”

When he continues, his voice is soft. 

“Tiergan, I don’t know you.  Maybe you really are just some reckless, angry piece of trash I should throw off my property right now, but I don’t think so.  I’ve met Keely before, and I know her father well.  If he trusted you with her, he trusts you.  And that carries a lot of weight.  Keely’s a little afraid of you, right now, but even still—she wants to believe in you.  And both Garvey and Eoin seem intent on covering your ass, too.  No, either you’ve fooled a lot of people, or you’re better than you’re behaving.

“So, look—we’re here alone.  Believe me when I tell you that I’ve got no interest in hurting you or your family.  And I’m not telling you you have to trust me.  You don’t.  We can wrap this up right now, and you can keep carrying whatever it is you are carrying, all alone.

“But why don’t you try trusting someone for once, and tell me what’s going on.”  He leans forward and places his hand on my leg, and smiles up at me.  It’s a kind smile.  A friendly smile.  A smile I so want to trust.

“I can’t promise I can do anything at all. 

“But I’ll help you if I can.”

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