Spring City
Shuffling through my things, I reach for the hairdryer. It’s not just a hairdryer, it’s my hairdryer, and something about having it with me makes the unfamiliar more familiar.
‘Why are you packing that?’ My mother’s voice cuts through my thoughts. She is helping me pack for Montaceito. It’s not really about the hairdryer. It never is.
‘I might need it. I’m not stopping by The Chateau, and I don’t want to share with Elsa,’ I explain, my voice tight with the emotional turmoil I’m feeling. I glance around my bedroom, feeling the finality of it all. ‘I’ll come back to pack everything else later.’
She gives me a look, a silent ask that’s more about my avoidance of the family estate than shared haircare.
‘Why don’t you come home with me, Aisling?’ she asks, her expression etched with sadness.
‘No, Mother,’ I assert, the need for space pressing heavily on me. ‘I don’t want him to find me in Montaceito.’
She nods, understanding my need for distance.
‘I just need a few days with Elsa,’ I add, my voice breaking. ‘I need her right now.’
She’s about to reply when the shrill ring of the phone interrupts us. I glance at the caller ID.
Jordan.
Oh no.
My heart sinks.
My mother can’t meet my eyes. ‘Did you talk to him about… everything?’
Her silence speaks louder than words. It’s like trying to stand up in a river’s current, fighting against the force of revelations I wasn’t prepared for.
“Did you call them?”
‘I spoke to your dad last night. He might have talked to him,’ she admits, hesitantly.
‘Why didn’t you tell me you called him? You said you’d wait,’ I demand, a mix of hurt and frustration in my voice.
‘I was going to tell you,’ she stammers, her eyes filled with a plea for understanding. The room feels charged with tension, the call from Jordan adding another layer of complexity to an already complicated situation.
“Oh no…”
I can feel my mother’s gaze drilling into the side of my head as the phone vibrates insistently in my hand. Her eyes are a silent plea, urging me to pick up. Taking a shaky breath, I press the answer button, holding the device up to my ear.
‘He, Jord?’
‘Hey, Aisling. How are you holding up?’
‘I’m managing. How are you and everyone?’ I ask, but there is a pause, heavy with unspoken questions.
‘Aisling, what’s happening? I need you to be straight with me,’ he pushes, getting right to the point.
‘There’s a lot, Jordan,’ I admit, my voice wavering as I pace the room, memories of betrayal flooding my mind.
‘What’s going on, Ais? Why am I the last to hear?’ His voice cracks with hurt.
I close my eyes, pressing the bridge of my nose. ‘It’s complicated. A lot has… changed.’
His sigh resonates with a weariness I’ve never heard before. ‘That’s not an answer.’
Everything threatens to crush me. ‘I know. I should’ve told you sooner. But everything’s so… messy right now.’
The line is silent for a moment, and I imagine Jordan taking a moment, processing what I’ve said, perhaps trying to piece together the fragments of information he’s received.
‘We should been there for each other, Ais,’ he says, the hurt evident.
‘I know, Jord. I’m so sorry.’
Another pause, and then he says, ‘Dad’s here. He wants to talk to you.’
My heart plummets. This isn’t a conversation I’m ready for. The air feels denser, like the weight of the entire world now sits squarely on my shoulders.
Handing the phone over, I hear the deep voice that has guided and sometimes dominated much of my life. ‘Aisling.’
‘Dad.’
His voice, always commanding, doesn’t falter. ‘This marriage. It needs to end.’
A cold wave rushes over me. How did we get here? How did everything spiral so far out of control? The pressure inside builds, threatening to burst. But I bite down on my lip, holding back the torrent of emotion ready to spill out.
All I manage is a soft, ‘I know, Dad.’
