The Aislin Chronicles

Part XXXVIII

A/n: I'm sorry it's been so long, guys, but I had finals exams, what can you do? In case you've forgotten (like I almost have…), our little Aislin and our dearest Vaughny have ventured into the depths of Ireland. And guess where Kassy's going this summer? That's right, Grandma's taking the fam to Ireland. When I found out I got so excited that I wanted to tell Aislin, except then I remembered she wasn't real, and I got a little sad.

Anyway…

10-19-03

11:41 PM

Today was… Wow. I don't really know how to describe today. I think it was good… Yes. Good. It was good. My dad is amazing. The things he does for me are incredible, and I love him so much for them.

When we got around this morning, I was pretty excited, but things got mellow after we left the hotel. We started walking around in silence. I led him to see my old house. I got pretty nostalgic, but it didn't make me cry or anything. I wish there was something really cool and secret I knew about the house, like some silly little toy I hid in the attic or a time capsule I buried in the backyard. But the house doesn't even have an attic. And… I don't recall being much of a digger. It was nice to stare at, though, and to just remember random times with Father.

A family has moved in there by now. I asked Dad what had happened to everything after I came to America. I know no one lived there for a while, and all the stuff was intact because last Christmas he brought me a box full of things from home. He said that they had to auction off most of the furniture, and then the bank took over it and put it on the market. I'm guessing there's a little kid in the family, judging by the tricycle that was sitting sideways on the landing in front of the door.

I really wish we could have gone inside, but no one was home and that would be breaking and entering. I know because I asked Dad to pick the lock for me. He wouldn't. Ah, well…

Then we snuck through the backyard to walk along the river. It's more of a creek when you're near my neighborhood, but as you walk further down it gets bigger and faster. I told Dad about the time I thought I'd go swimming in it when I was like, three or four or something, and took all my clothes off and jumped in. I don't care to tell the rest of the story. Re-living it once already was enough.

By then we were hungry and stopped at some little café that must be new because I don't remember it for lunch. Do you have any idea how good it feels to hear proper English? It makes me almost laugh to hear Dad talk. Does everyone really sound like that in America? I forget. A good Irish sound is just music to my ears.

We just kept walking around after that. We were both in better spirits and kind of joking around, it felt nice. Then we got to the old church. Father and I would go to church together when he was home on Sunday mornings. Sometimes he would have to work the late shift on Saturdays and he needed to sleep, so we couldn't go on those days. But we would go often enough. I think I liked going because I could hear Father sing. And he didn't sing that often at home. He had a nice singing voice. Deep, and in tune. And he'd sway when he sang.

I noticed that Vaughn suddenly looked like he knew where he was going, and before I knew it I was following him around back. There still was the cemetery back there, where Mum is buried, and the big tree off to the side with the tire swing. Father and I didn't come here too much. Mostly just on Mum's birthday, where he'd send me to pick flowers and we'd set them by her gravestone. Moira Jane Conor. I used to trace my fingers into the carving of her name, like Braille. To me, it spelled, "Mum."

The cemetery looked dull. The grass was dry and crunchy, but it is autumn. Decaying brown leaves from the big tree floated across the lawn. I picked one up and rubbed it together between my fingers. Something looked different.

Dad took my hand, and he led me towards Mum's gravesite. But how could he have known where it was? I knew I had never told him.

And this is where Dad's sheer amazingness comes in. The new block of white marble should have been obvious to me, standing out brightly among the older stones. Bairn Conor. Father. My father.

I slowly sunk to my knees, just… surprised. "Dad?"

His brow was furrowed. He wanted to know what I was thinking. He was worried. Worried that I would be unhappy for some reason. But I wasn't; just curious. He flashed me a quick smile and slowly backed away.

I sat there for what felt like an hour, alone with my thoughts, or was Father there too? I didn't know whether I should say something. I mean, I thought talking to a gravestone was something people only did in movies. I plucked a few pieces of grass from the earth and closed my eyes, and suddenly, I could see him. It wasn't the image of his body, lying lifeless and bloodied on the elevator floor, either. I could just picture his face like it used to be, when we would be walking home from church. He in his gray suit and I in my Sunday best.

It's comforting, being able to picture him in my mind differently than when I last saw him. I imagined us strolling home. Slowly. He'd scratch his head, his short hair looked more red then blonde just then. One of the hymns would be stuck in his head, and he'd hum the tune lightly because for a moment he'd forget he didn't sing anymore. I'd want to hold his calloused hand even though I was too old.

I imagined it was our last walk home from church, because I truly cannot remember our actual last walk home. At the time, we didn't know it would be our last walk. Well, we did now. And we weren't going to waste it. This was our chance; to finally say good-bye. I grabbed his hand anyway.

I kept making us walk. I didn't want to make it end. And I didn't know what to say to him. I wanted to tell him not to die, but it was too late for that. I wanted to tell him I was okay, but why wouldn't I be? Was there anything to tell him?

I couldn't figure out what I would tell Father. If he appeared in front of me right this second, apparently I wouldn't know what to say. Actually, if he appeared in front of me right now I'd probably scream because, hello, dead person! Anyway, I realized that maybe we wouldn't have to say anything to each other. I thought I'd just hold his hand.

I could have made us walk forever, but I knew we couldn't do that. We got to our house. What would we do now? Say good-bye… I imagined him turning to look at me, to touch my hair, to wipe the tears that streamed down my cheek. "My Aislin," he'd say, and I'd press my face into his chest. I didn't want him to leave me. He'd hold me then, rub up and down my back until I was all cried out.

I imagined him telling me it was time to go, and he'd peel me off his body and put my face between his hands, like he was warming my cheeks, making them so rosy. He'd force me to stare into his hazel eyes– I'd almost forgotten they were hazel – and he'd smile back. Father would smile. "Don't cry, little one," he'd tell me, which only made me cry harder. He'd plant a firm kiss to my forehead and slowly back away.

"I love you, Father."

I opened my eyes. These words I had spoken aloud. I was still kneeling in the yellow grass and leaves, my shoulders shaking with tears. Dad had come back, though, and his hand touched my shoulder. I knew he was behind me, but it still startled me, especially after I had been thinking about Father, and I started a little.

And then I surprised myself: I jumped up and hugged Dad with all my might, my face squished up against his brown coat. Through my tears I told him a thousand thank yous. I don't know how long we were there and I don't care. Dad arranged for the gravestone, he arranged for Father to be buried next to Mum. He even made sure he was given a funeral. But what he gave me, finally, was closure.

"I think that's enough for today," Dad whispered, still holding me.

Finally I was composed enough to walk back to the hotel. But we just chilled here for the rest of the afternoon, going out only for dinner to the hotel restaurant. I liked watching Dad's face when I told him what some of the food on the menu actually was, because he had never heard of it before. That was extremely amusing.

It's pretty late now, I'm just kind of watching a bit of Irish late night television. Dad's in the bathroom, but he's talking on the phone. I know. I'm too tired to think about things anymore, I just want to go to sleep. Good night.

11-20-03

7:45 PM

Dinner tonight was hilarious! I decided Dad needed to see a true Irish pub, so I took him to one I remember was kind of hidden away from touristy stuff. When we walked in he was kind of looking around funny, and I asked him if he was looking for leprechauns dancing a jig. He didn't seem to find that nearly as amusing as I did. I did get a laugh out of him as I continued… The pot of gold at the end of the rainbow? Lord of the dance?

And oh goodness! I had colcannon! I cannot believe I have lived an entire year of my life without it! Dad thought it looked disgusting, and I don't blame him. Yes, it looks pretty gross. But one bite and mmm yummy. Needless to say, he tried some and said it wasn't that bad.

There was a football match showing on the telly, and when City scored a goal a few of the men watching started singing. If we were back in Los Angeles, people would be so annoyed. Someone would be like, "Get those drunkards out of the bar!" But here, ahhh. So good to be home. They're just happy. I certainly sing when I'm happy.

Anyway, Dad had a hard time understanding our waiter's accent. I suppose he talked a little fast, but I understood him fine. But Dad was completely lost every time he spoke, which is strange for a man who knows his languages. After the waiter went to get our drinks Dad leaned in and asked, "Was that really English?" It was funny.

Hmm today, what did we do? Oh yeah. We continued on our walk, since I kind of made us end a bit early yesterday. I showed him where my school was, but I didn't dare go where I could see the building that Father worked in. That would just be too much. And then we wandered around town for awhile. I don't really know what we're going to do for the rest of our time here, but I'm sure we'll figure something out.

7:57 PM

Dad just asked me if there was anything touristy to do around here. I asked him back, "I don't know, do I sound like a tourist?" I just lived here, I don't know what the heck people do when they visit. Waterford? Boring. Dublin? It's overrated. Ha, I'm just joking. I'm just not up for a long train ride. And I refuse to go kiss the Blarney Stone! Oh, we could go to the harbour in Cobh. Aw, look. I went back to the Irish way to spell things! That lovely little u.

8:00 PM

Dad thinks that sounds like a good idea. So I guess that's where we're going tomorrow. He was (sarcastically) disappointed I didn't want to go visit the Baileys Irish Cream factory in Dublin though. Oh well, my loss I guess. Ha.

11:22 PM

Dad's on the phone with her right now. I know he is. He's in the bathroom and trying to hide it, and he thinks I'm asleep, but regardless, I know he's talking to Sydney. I wish… I wish he wouldn't hide it. They're married, and I'm old enough to understand that they need to talk and stuff. I know he thinks he's trying to protect me or whatever this way, or… something like that. I don't know. I think it would be better if he didn't do it behind my back.

I don't know what I'm saying. I just don't want to be thinking about her right now, maybe. I mean, it's not a big deal, is it? Then why do I feel so weird about it? Crap. I am thinking about it now. I thought that I had forgiven Sydney, that everything was okay between us. I just… Damn. There's so many simple things that I just don't understand. How am I expected to react to something as complicated as this?

I think he's going to hang up soon. I better pretend to sleep again.

11-22-03

4:47 PM

I bought this really cute football jersey shirt today, one that looks like City's jerseys, even though nobody back home will know anything about them. Maybe Ian might, but only because he's a huge soccer fan. If not, I'll teach that boy a thing or two about real soccer, AKA football.

Yesterday was nice: it didn't rain. Actually, it was sunny all day. Surprising. Um, yeah, we went to Cobh, walked around, looked at boats. I pretended I was a tourist and went to the cathedral. We listened to the carillon. Forty-seven bells, did you know? Anyway, we had fun and got back really late and I fell asleep right as my head hit the pillow.

Anyway, back to my super cute jersey. I decided I wanted one this afternoon (Dad and I went shopping today), and so we stopped into a store that was just entirely football jerseys. Most were from the league here, but there were some other European teams (then again, mostly British). Except now I can't remember where I put the bag. I feel like wearing it. I'll go look.

A/n: To be continued… There's a reason Aislin can't find that bag. Hehe. I'm so excited because I know why and you don't! I hope you enjoyed this chapter, please review!