#37 Trust Part 1 - Cuid Lontaobhais 1

Cool water droplets fell from my chin into the basin of the sink. Even though I'd been out for ten hours I wanted to curl right back up and hibernate until this was over. But would it ever be? Would Monroe try to find me again? Now that I knew the truth and had Mo Soileireacht. Both the journal and I were proof enough to spoil his ambitions.

I stared at the drain while water rushed aimlessly into the pipe. Was I going to puke? I rubbed my throat and let my hands travel up to my chin and over my face.

I should've left it alone.

I repeated the sentiment over and over to myself, but with each annunciation the statement grew more idiotic. I couldn't've left it alone. That simply wasn't me. To the ends of the earth I would follow my inquisitiveness, whatever path it took me down I marched ahead – often with my eyes closed.

My eyes were open now – wide open – and as I walked I saw the forest for the trees. Trunks and branches sprouted out of nowhere as I felt the path curve underneath my feet, taking me in a totally different direction that I originally set out on.

Was there an end to this path?

There were no foreseeable rest stops ahead. Did that mean I would walk until my legs gave out and the soles of my shoes gave way to callouses on my toes? I bit my lip and looked up. The violet that settled under my eyes like ripe fruit hanging off a leaf had settled back to a more normal color.

The pain inside my head faded as I caught my own look of loss in the mirror.

My pupils ached from standing too close to the dirty window and forcing my eyes to focus in between the grains of dirt, hoping that I would be able to catch a glimpse of her. My mother sitting before her easel, paint brush poised in her hand.

I rubbed my eyes.

I had to keep looking, I needed to keep looking.

"Here honey, you can shuck some peas for dinner." Ivy took me by the hand and led me to the sink were I separated the pods into a colander and a ceramic bowl.

We were silent for a moment while the two women chopped and seasoned vegetables that they then placed in the oven.

"How do you know Lyle?"

Beth snorted humorously casting a knowing glance at Ivy. "Do we even know her at all?"

Ivy laughed and smacked Beth's arm. "We like to think we adopted her, but I'm sure she'd say it was the other way around." Beth grinned as she lifted the lid of the soup pot stealing a spoonful while Ivy wasn't looking. "She comes and goes, we hadn't see her in-"

"Seven months" Ivy finished and I smiled at how easily the two women followed each other's thoughts while they glided around the kitchen. The process was an intricate dance they'd practiced for years as they wove in and out of one another's paths. Anticipating Ivy's next task Beth held out a poker to her partner seconds before she bent to open the stove releasing the mouthwatering smells of roasted vegetables.

"Yea," Beth nodded. "Seven odd months, that is until she showed up with you."

"I'm sorry." I replied lamely. The guilt I'd pushed down welled in my throat, I hated that I was the unexplained reason for Lyle's sudden reappearance in their life. Surely it was shock that after all this time Lyle showed up unannounced - with me no less.

My thoughts wandered, how exactly did Ivy and Beth know Lyle? Were they friends or family? Beth mentioned she and Ivy 'adopting' Lyle so something told me their relationship was a comfortable compromise of formal familial ties and close friendship.

"You don't need to apologize," Ivy waved her hand. "It's not the first time Lyle's shown up at our doorstep unannounced."

"But it was the most distraught we'd ever seen her." Beth qualified wringing her hands on the towel at her hip.

Ivy hummed in agreement. "She made Beth do a full check up on you before she told us what was going on, and even then she couldn't say."

Beth shrugged. "That's our girl, always getting mixed up in stuff."

"But she's always gotten out unscathed." Ivy's tone was positive but I could sense a certain tension in the room at her statement and out of the corner of my eye I saw Beth knock twice on a wooden cabinet.

"Relatively." She murmured under her breath.

The women left it at that and we worked in quiet for a few more minutes. My mysterious presence didn't seem to bother them and I felt deeply grateful for their generosity and acceptance. The silence was comfortable and I didn't feel pressured to explain to them why I was here or how I knew Lyle. The pair seemed content in their trust that Lyle was doing the right thing and by association so was I.

Their kindness reminded me of Grace, I hadn't spoken to her in two days. Was she worried? I told her I would be gone for a few days but what if she left a message on my phone?

I asked Ivy if they had a charger and she led me back into the living room where I found a cord plugged into the far wall. I plugged in my phone and thankfully the low batter icon popped up on the cracked screen.

Walking back to the kitchen I vowed to check back in a half hour and call Grace - just to check in. When I rounded the corner the kitchen was no longer quiet filled ever so often with the clink of a pot or the soft rhythmic chopping on the cutting board.

I took notice of two mason jar sized speakers that sat on a small shelf above the dining table to the right of the doorway. Faith by George Michael blasted through the speakers at full volume to the joy of Ivy and Beth whom transformed the checkered floor into stage as they danced around each other.

I couldn't help but smile as the women lip sang the chorus, their eyes shut tightly as they passionately mouthed the words to the pop song. I must've paused for too long in the middle of the kitchen because Ivy took that as a sign and rushed toward me locking her hands in mine. She swung her body from side to side in wave like motions to the beat of the song. The kitchen was our private dancefloor as Beth joined us and the two women enlisted me in their dramatic performance.

Ivy bounced with the beat excitedly waving her limbs around her and striking daring poses on the beat. Beth was a bit more conservative than her partner in the dance arena, and she contently watched Ivy's interpretive performance while swaying back and forth to the rhythm.

"Loosen up girl." Beth chided a grin plastered on her face as she taped my upper arm. "Here let's show you some moves."

"This is Lyle's dance to this song," Ivy chimed in breaking into an exaggerated twist incorporating her entire body. "You try." She encouraged over the loud music as she moved closer to Beth.

The two danced in unison taking turns leaning over each other as they began to sing –now out loud and slightly off key. Following their lead I started off slow, but by the second chorus I was a master and Ivy clapped her hands over her head to help me keep time –not that I needed it of course.

For a moment I completely forgot about what transpired mere hours before. I was happy in the minimalist house surrounded by the savory smells of soup and roasted veggies and the two exuberant women that welcomed me. I closed my eyes taking in the feeling of my tense muscles melting to the rhythm.

"Stealing my moves?" An effortlessly smooth voice implored over the music.

I whirled around to meet Lyle's gaze as it trailed up my body and rested at my eyes. I straightened awkwardly. She'd traded her ripped cotton tee for a light weight flannel that hung untucked from her jeans. Her hair was wind tossed and she tucked it hastily behind her ears after setting a cloth bag onto the wooden table top. Looking sheepishly behind me Beth and Ivy laughed and waved Lyle over to which she eagerly joined our dance circle.

I watched in admiration – that's too formal of a word for what I felt, it'd be better described as awe and maybe a sprinkle of attraction – as Lyle glided effortless across the floor moving in sync with Ivy and then Beth causing the two women to giggle. The women were sucked into Lyle's gravitational force – we all were. The walls I knew guarding her heart and mind were still up but she'd draped something over the rocky sides, something more attractive that masked their rough exterior. I'd never seen her wear such a costume and I wondered if this was always the way she acted around the older women. Did they ever see her serious and cunning side?

Lyle turned to me and winked. I froze at once unsure of what to do with myself. Sadly aware of my situation I felt odd to be dancing or flirting - whatever this was - with her while there were so many questions we both had for each other.

Naturally this particular dilemma seemed only to affect me as Lyle took my hand using me as a rock she bent backwards to touch the ground while still twisting. I raised my eyebrow at her move but she said nothing bringing my hand up so I could twirl under it. I obliged and she continued to hold my hand as we danced across from one another.

I knew better but as we moved I tried to detect what she was feeling or thinking behind her placid eyes. She didn't flinch as we watched each other, we'd come accustom to holding eye contact without embarrassment or shame. There was an unspoken understanding that we were always at odds, attempting to discern what the other was thinking. It was a game that words would ruin - at least in Lyle's eyes - I didn't mind putting my wonder in questions.

The song faded out and Ivy went back to the stove meticulously tasting it and adding more spice. Lyle's hand rested naturally in mine as we stood inches apart in the middle of the kitchen. A slower song I did not recognize began to play. Lyle's free hand gravitated to my lower back and I mimicked her movement placing mine on her hip. The pressure from her hand brought me closer until our bodies were touching. I closed my eyes and leaned my head against her shoulder as we rocked back and forth.

Her movement didn't shock me as I melded into her body. We were alone in the room, with no worries or thoughts of hours before. I breathed in a sigh inhaling the scent of the countless herbs and spices that floated around the room and mixed with the collar of Lyle's shirt.

I tilted my head up as our movements became more lazy until we were no longer moving our feet but swaying almost imperceptibly from side to side. Our eyes met, the freckles surrounding her pupils lit up as I watched them lower their gaze a few centimeters to my mouth. I didn't care if Beth and Ivy were still in the room.

I leaned forward as the music came to an end and –.

Lyle jerked away as footsteps from the hallway behind us sounded.

Beth carried what looked to be a first aid kit, though it held a much healthier supply than the one on the train. Oblivious to our moment, Beth pulled her away to the table ordering her to sit.

I went back to shucking peas a few feet away.

Beth produced a thick cylinder of gauze after inspecting and cutting off the previous bandage. She wiped Lyle's arm with a sanitized cloth and I looked away. Now that I was not the one being relied on to provide mediocre medical care I couldn't bare to look at the gash.

"So are you and your new girlfriend going to tell us about what's going on?" Beth ventured.

I stole a glance back at Lyle, her carefree smile was gone replaced with the neutral expression I'd come to expect from her in times of tension. I couldn't blame Beth for asking, but I held my breath waiting for Lyle's response. Would she out me as the idiot who went blindly into a meeting with a psychopath? My heart sank even lower, if only I'd known. I could've saved Lyle from this interruption. Instead she was saving me.

But how could I have?

I retraced my thoughts; there was no way I could've reliably made sound decisions devoid of my own riled emotions. Admittedly I always thought myself to be someone sound of mind - rational even - but in the past few days I proved to myself that the inflection I imposed didn't hold true.

I tried for so long to be rational, keeping thoughts of my mother tucked away only bringing them out at night to romanticize what my life could've been like. Was that any healthier than what I was doing right now?

My so called irrational episode led me here, a string wound around my hand that had been empty for so long. If I could just follow that string - like the north star - surely there would be an explanation at its end.

But did I want that explanation after seeing the feats Monroe was capable of?

My lack of concentration caused my un watched finger to smash a pea within the pod. Setting it aside I came to two conclusions: my going after Monroe may have been like staring at the unfiltered sun with naked eyes, it hurt but only momentarily and I pulled away knowing how not to approach the situation next time. But, more importantly what I had been doing - keeping thoughts of my mother to a minimum - allowing my curiosity to fester was like staring at the sun with cheap gas station sunglasses. I might not have felt the effects immediately but slowly it was burning a hole in my vision.

"Beth," Ivy began noticing my uncomfortable posture. "Can't we let them relax for a bit? Lyle why don't you take May to get some clean clothes, there are still some of your things in the side closet and I set out clean towels in the bathroom. Dinner should be ready when you're done."

Beth tied Lyle's bandage and conceded though the concerned expression I recognized on both her and Ivy's features did not wane. I apologized for only finishing a third of the peas to which Ivy laughed before shooing me out of the kitchen.

Lyle led me to the front of the home through the living room where I'd been asleep all day and to a short hallway. One end lead to the front door and the other was a stair well. I lingered in the door way as Lyle began up the creaky steps.

The inlet was lined with a brick colored tile, a path of sensible shoes and muddied boots ran along one side. On the other a single door I assumed to be a coat closet with a brass knob and to the right of it a baseball bat propped in the corner.

A thought flickered in my mind, shouldn't I be trying to leave? Was I stupid to stay, to help cook and participate in a dance party no less? None of my decisions had been rational over the last two days. It wasn't rational of me to agree to bring Lyle to Mo Soileireacht, or to meet with Monroe on my own. Maybe I was due for a rational action, like the good old days. When things were simpler.

For god's sake I hadn't even thought to call the police, it was the only thing on my mind when I was first chased by Smith and Jones, but now I felt desensitized to it. As if there was nothing anyone could do to make this right. I was powerless. Was it what Monroe said that triggered such a weak reaction in my gut and in my heart? I glanced back at Lyle as she neared the top of the landing.

I refused to let Monroe get in my head. My brain wasn't an expensive time share I undoubtedly knew he owned. My head was my space, where I was supposed to be able to make my own decisions, isn't that what we were promised since we were little?

I scanned my thoughts until I landed on it, the click; there it was in the recess of my mind where it hide ever since our train ride. The most irrational occurrence of the entire debacle. I still trusted Lyle. My fingertips ran over my lips.

There was no doubt in my mind that I would be dead in that alley way if it were not for her.