Rifiuto: Non Miriena
April, 1986
The new year brought more of the same in the North- bombings, murders, disappearances. It was this last that nearly destroyed Kathleen and John's marriage.
Kathleen lay her head back, the soft Jazz wafting from the record player; if there was one thing she missed about America, it was the Jazz scene- regular trips up to Seattle and Portland with her friends, or nights in Jazz lounges in San Francisco over the summer. Not that she didn't love her life in Ireland or her family, but there were times when she missed America.
Soft giggling caused her to lift her head, and she looked up to see Sarah and Timmy sprawled out on the floor, a coloring book between them. "No, Sarah, 'e's no' a lion, 'e's a leopard! They rule jungles, no' safaris!"
"Timmy, ye're colorin' 'im wrong!" Her brother glared at her, sticking out his tongue. The little girl loved Lisa Frank, and her favorite things were the coloring books. And Timmy, who loved his sister dearly, would help her color because he loved her. He tolerated it only because of Sarah, when he'd rather be doing anything but coloring dancing bunnies and painter bears.
"Sarah, yer broth'r can color 'em any way 'e wants." Sarah turned to her mother, sighing, before returning to her own page. She listened as Timmy began to weave a story about the leopard, about the adventures the cat would go on and the people he would meet; the story kept his sister enthralled, leaving some much desired peace for their mother. Since John had returned to America, she'd been doing her best to stay strong for the kids, but it was tough. Just as she was dozing off to the raspy alto of Lady Day, a knock on the door startled her awake.
Minutes passed, as Kathleen struggled to her feet, still partially asleep, eventually reaching the doorway. The kids watched as she pulled it open; Margaret, the youngest of the four McGee siblings, stood at the door, eyes wild and hair loose about her shoulders. "Ah... Molly, wh... wha's wrong?" But the teenager threw her arms around her sister-in-law, choking on a sob.
At seventeen, Margaret McGee- known as Molly to her family- was the only one of the McGee children still in secondary school; she had two more months before she completed her Senior Cycle and received her Leaving Certificate, the equivalent to an American high school diploma. The teenager looked exactly like her siblings, with the same sandy hair-color and bright green eyes, though she wore her hair in long, tight, semi-contained curls, similar to Rebecca Schaeffer's Patti Russell on My Sister Sam; Molly was more the free-spirit of the family than her older siblings.
"Wh're's Johnny, Kathleen?" The girl choked out, as her sister-in-law stumbled back into the living room. Though they lived in an apartment, it was one of the rare two-story ones in Derry- in part of the new complex being built around the crumbling older buildings that were in the process of being taken down to make way for 'townhomes' as they were called- something unheard of in their almost isolated section of Derry. She pulled away, meeting her gaze.
"Ah... J... John's back in America. Why?" Slowly, Molly pulled away, meeting her sister-in-law's eyes.
"She... she's gone... she's gone..."
"Who? Mol-" After a moment, she reached up, taking the younger girl's face in her hands. "Molly, talk t' me. Who's gone?" Several minutes passed, before the girl was able to get a handle on her emotions. As Kathleen led her into the kitchen and pushed her into a chair at the table, she choked out, "I don't know where they took 'er, bu'..."
"Molly, calm down, an' tell me 'ho they took." Kathleen replied, quickly fixing a cup of tea and pushing the warm mug into her sister-in-law's hands. The teen nodded, taking deep breath.
"F... Fiona... they... they took Fiona..." She burst into tears, and Kathleen felt her heart drop. Since Grae's death the year before, the three remaining McGee siblings had been keeping close tabs on each other, and it wasn't uncommon for Fiona to not call and let her parents- or at least her siblings- know what she was doing, especially nowadays, and out of all of them, Fiona was perhaps the most responsible. As Molly continued to sob, Kathleen caught sight of her children watching from the living room. She would have to explain what Molly meant soon enough, but not right now. Instead, she grabbed her sister-in-law's shoulders, tightening her hold.
"Molly. Molly, talk t' me. Molly, look a' me!" Slowly, the girl did as told, tears rolling down her cheeks.
"I need ye t' tell me wha' 'appened. Okay? D' ye know where Fiona was when ye talked t' 'er las'? Molly, answe' me!"
"She... she'd... jus' stepped off th' bus, an'... an'..." She shrugged her shoulders, curls bouncing. "She's gone, Kathleen... wha' d' we tell Ma?" Kathleen swallowed; that would be the hardest- tell Penny that her middle daughter, her responsible whirlwind of a daughter was gone, vanished off the face of the earth, without leaving behind any trace as to he whereabouts or why. They could file a police report- and they would- but there was no guarantee anything would get done. In most cases like this, the person was never found, and it looked like Fiona was just the latest in a long line of people in Northern Ireland who vanished without a trace, never to be found.
"'ave ye... told Ma, Molly?" The girl shook her head. She sighed.
"Righ'. Okay. Um... 'ow 'bout ye go int' th' livin' room wit' Timmy an' Sarah. Jus'... jus' stay there. I... I'll call Ma." The teen nodded, and after several minutes, got up. As she left the kitchen, Kathleen watched her children dash back into the living room, trying desperately to pretend they hadn't been listening. As she picked up the phone and checked on Molly, subconsciously dialing the number she knew by heart, she began to wonder how she'd ended up turning into the dutiful older daughter, and why the responsibility to break bad news always fell to her.
