Releasing 10

I knew they were cross with me.

I just didn’t know why.

“Don’t worry,” she whispered, tightening her arm around me. “They love you, too, sweetheart. Just like Mammy loves you.”

JANUARY 6, 1992

Lizzie

“NO,” CAOIMHE ARGUED. “NO WAY. I’M NOT MOVING SCHOOLS AGAIN.”

“Caoimhe, love, we’ve talked about this. Please try to understand.”

“I’m not fucking moving again,” she screamed. “I have friends at St. Joseph’s, and you promised I could go back to my old school when we came home.” She shook her head and backed toward the door. “You promised, Mam!”

“We tried, Caoimhe,” Mammy told her, looking sad. “But the principal said it’s not possible to re-enroll you. They don’t have the space, love.”

“It’s not fair,” my sister cried, sobbing loudly. “My life is fucking over!”

“Don’t say that,” Mammy said, trying to coax. “You’ll be just as happy over at St. Theresa’s.”

“But it’s an all-girls school,” Caoimhe cried. “Run by the nuns.”

“It’s only for a year and a half, and then you’ll go off to secondary school and meet up with all your old friends.”

“I fucking hate you!” Caoimhe cried. I was still sitting on the step when she barged past me. “Get out of the way,” she screamed, shoving me with her foot. “You’re always in the fucking way, Lizzie!”

“Caoimhe!” Mam shouted, following after her. “Don’t you dare take it out on your sister!”

I wanted to tell her I was sorry, but I couldn’t get the words out.

“It’s not your fault, Lizzie.” Mammy smiled and crouched down in front of me. “You haven’t done anything.”

I reached up and cupped her cheek in my small hand.

Sniffling, she closed her eyes and covered my hand with hers. “I’m not crying, sweetheart,” she said, answering the question in my head.

She was.

I could feel the wet on my hand.

“Be a good girl and go on up to bed now.” When she opened her eyes, she was smiling a big smile. “And remember that Mammy loves you very much.”

I love you, too, Mammy.

FEBRUARY 10, 1992

Lizzie

“WHAT IS WRONG WITH THAT CHILD!”

“Mike, she doesn’t understand.”

“She’s disturbed, Catherine. A blind man can see that.”

“How can you say that about your own flesh and blood?”

“I can’t take it, Catherine. I’m sorry.”

“You’re a fucking coward, that’s why.”

“It’s killing me to watch her like this.”

“And you don’t think it’s killing me, Mike? The difference is I would never leave her.”

“I’m not leaving her, but I have to get out of this house or I’m going to lose my mind right along with her.”

“Some father you are, turning your back the minute things get tough.”

“Catherine.”

“Go on, then! Run away, Mike. We’ll be better off alone than with a spineless coward.”

JUNE 9, 1992

Lizzie

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU, HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU, HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO LIZZIE, happy birthday to you.”

My parents and Caoimhe all huddled around me, smiling and singing birthday songs.

It made me feel happy.

I liked it.

Daddy was even smiling as he took pictures on his camera.

“Blow out your candles,” Mammy said, pointing to the pink birthday cake in front of me. “And make a wish, sweetheart.”

Leaning forward, I took a big breath and blew it out as hard as I could.

When the flames on the candles went out, they all cheered.

For me.

I smiled happily.

“Does she even know it’s her birthday?” Caoimhe asked then, and it made me cross. Of course I did. I had a birthday cake, didn’t I? She laughed before adding, “She probably doesn’t even know what age she’s turning.”

Planting my hands on my hips, I turned to my sister and glared. “Four.”

Caoimhe’s eyes widened in surprise. “What did you just say?”

“Four,” I repeated, still cross with her. “I’m not silly.” I pointed to the candles on my cake. “One, two, three, four.”

Now, Mammy and Daddy were looking at me with big, wide eyes.

“Did she just…”

“Yes, she definitely did.”

“Oh my God.”

“She can talk.”

“Never mind talking. She can count.”

“Say something else,” Caoimhe commanded, sounding excited. “Come on, Liz, tell us something else.”

I frowned at her. “Like what?”

“Oh my God!” Caoimhe squealed, jumping from foot to foot as she clapped her hands. “She actually answered me!”

I always answered her, but she just couldn’t hear me.

None of them could.

“Am I talking out loud?” I asked, confused. “You can hear me?”

All three of them nodded.

They looked so happy.

They were smiling at me.

“What’s my name?” my sister asked, still bouncing.

“Caoimhe Young.”

“Oh my God,” she cried out, clapping her hands again. “What’s your name?”

“Lizzie Young.”

My sister yelped excitedly before pointing at our parents. “And who are they?”

“Mammy and Daddy,” I replied, frowning when I saw they were both crying. “Are you sad?”

“No,” Daddy choked out, throwing his arms around me. “We’re happy.”

OCTOBER 11, 1992

Lizzie

“SHE RUINED MY LIFE!” CAOIMHE SCREAMED. “I CAN NEVER SHOW MY FACE AT SCHOOL again.”

“Caoimhe!”

“Everyone is talking about me.”

“No, they’re not.”

“Yeah, they are, Mam, and it’s all her fault.”

“Caoimhe, please.”

“I’m not going to school tomorrow if she’s there.”

“You’re in sixth class, Caoimhe. Your sister is in junior infants. You’re on opposite sides of the school.”

“I don’t care! I’m not going if she’s there.”

“Oh yes you are.”

“She shouldn’t even be at my school because there’s something fucked-up wrong with her!” Throwing her schoolbag on the floor, she turned to glare at me. “Why did you have to come to my school?” Releasing a furious scream, she looked at our parents. “Why couldn’t you have sent her somewhere else?”

“Caoimhe, you need to settle down,” Mam said, moving to stand between us. “She’s only four, sweetheart, and she’s come leaps and bounds this year. Don’t be angry with her.”

“Angry with her?” Caoimhe’s eyes bulged. “I fucking hate her, Mam!”

“Caoimhe!”

“She’s a fucking lunatic, Mam.”

“Don’t you dare call your sister that word.”

“Why not? It’s the truth. Half the time she’s a mute, and the other half, she’s screaming her head off and attacking anyone who gets near her.” My sister threw her hands up and screamed. “She attacked another child in her classroom, for fuck’s sake. My friend’s baby brother! She drew blood. You can’t honestly think that’s normal behavior.”

“That’s enough!” That was Daddy. He walked over and wrapped his arm around Mammy’s shoulder. “Don’t raise your voice to your mother. You know she’s not well.”

“Yeah, from another plague she brought into our lives,” Caoimhe spat. “First Lizzie and now cancer!”

“Don’t you dare say that about your mother!” Daddy roared. He led Mammy over to her armchair and helped her sit down before turning back to Caoimhe.

Meanwhile, I made a beeline for my mother, feeling scared and cross and worried all at once. Climbing onto her lap, I burrowed into her chest, but it felt different now. Flat and bony. Not soft like it used to be.

“It’s okay,” Mammy whispered, wrapping her arms around me. Her skin looked yellow now, not peach like it used to, and her head was shiny and bald.

“Now, I’ve been cutting you slack because I understand how hard the past couple of years have been on you, but you’ve overstepped your mark, young lady,” Daddy told Caoimhe. “I understand your frustrations, and I feel for you, but taking it out on your sick mother is not the way to handle this, Caoimhe.”

Breaking down in front of him, my sister covered her face with her hands and screamed, “I wish I was dead!”

NOVEMBER 4, 1992

Lizzie

“LIZZIE, SWEETHEART, ARE YOU UP?” MAMMY WALKED INTO MY ROOM AND SIGHED when she saw me still in bed. “We talked about this.” Closing the space between us, she sat on the edge of my bed and gently stroked my hair. “You have to get up for school, baby.”

“I’m so tired,” I croaked out, feeling like my arms and legs didn’t work anymore.

“That’s because your body is getting used to the new medication,” Mammy explained. “You’ll feel better soon.”

“I don’t want to be me anymore.”

“Why would you say that?”

“Because I’m bad.”

“You’re not bad, sweetheart.”

“Yes, I am.” I blinked back the tears filling my eyes. “That’s why you give me those tablets. I heard Caoimhe and Daddy talking about it. It’s because I’m crazy.”

“No, Lizzie, no.” Mam cupped my face in her hands. “You are not crazy, sweetheart. Do you hear me? You are perfect just the way you are.”

“Then why do they hate me?” I sobbed, turning my face away. “Why does everyone look at me funny?”

“They don’t hate you, sweetheart, and nobody looks at you funny.”

“They do.” I sniffled. “I know.”

NOVEMBER 27, 1992

Lizzie

CURLING UP IN A BALL ON THE COUCH IN THE SITTING ROOM, I COVERED MY EARS AND tried to block out the shouting, but I could still hear them.

“It’s for the best, Catherine,” Daddy shouted from the kitchen. “Trust me, I’ve been through this before.”

“I don’t care,” Mam argued back. “I am not medicating that child another day.”

“She needs the medication.”

“She needs a childhood!” Mam cried. “She’s our baby, our child, and I refuse to continue this farce.”

“You want to talk about farces, Catherine? Really?”

“She is not taking another pill. Do you hear me? It stops right now.”

“And when she acts out again? What then?”

“We’ll handle it.”

“I won’t move Caoimhe again,” he warned. “It’s not fair on our other daughter. You do remember her, don’t you?”

“That’s not fair, and you know it.”

“No, what’s not fair is living my whole life the way I have and having to repeat the cycle all over again.”

“What were we supposed to do?”

“Well, I know what you should have done!” he roared. “You should have fucking—”

“Oh my God, stop! I can hear you from upstairs.” That was Caoimhe. “What’s wrong?”

“Your mother thinks it’s a good idea to take your sister off her meds.”

“Are you insane?” That was Caoimhe. “Mam, she has to take them.”

“Don’t start.”

“She is an actual human when she’s on them, Mam. Take her off them and she’ll go right back to being a feral monster.”

“Caoimhe!”

“I’m sorry, but it’s true. Dad’s right. She needs to be on those tablets. The doctors said it themselves. Multiple doctors, Mam. Multiple times.”

“Maybe we’re not looking at this the right way,” Dad added. “Maybe a residential school would be her best fit.”

“I am not sending her away.”

“Not permanently.”

“No way. It’s not happening!”

Scrambling to my feet, I bolted upstairs to my bedroom as fast as I could. I quietly closed the door and sank down on the floor, hand still gripping the circular knob.

I had to make my family love me.

If I didn’t, they were going to send me away.

“Stop fighting it,” a voice in my head commanded, and I flinched when the watery image of a woman’s face flashed before my eyes. “Just give in. It’ll all be better then.”

Oh no.

The voice was back.

The scary voice.

The one that made me wet the bed.

The one that made me fight.

Clamping my hands over my ears, I hummed loudly to drown it out.

I had to make the voice go away.

DECEMBER 25, 1992

Lizzie

“I KNEW COMING HOME WAS A BAD IDEA, MIKE. I BLOODY KNEW WE WERE ASKING FOR trouble, and I was right!”

“Calm down, Catherine. You can’t let yourself get worked up like this. You’re in the middle of chemo, love. You need to take it easy.”

“How in the name of God am I supposed to calm down when that woman was in my house? I can’t breathe thinking about what could’ve happened today, Mike!”

Flushing the toilet, I climbed onto the booster step placed in front of the sink, the one that helped me reach the tap, and reached for the orange bar of soap.

“I tried to warn you in England, but you wouldn’t listen. You were hell-bent on doing things your way when I fucking begged you not to. Now, you’re getting a small glimpse into what life was like for me, what life is going to be for us.”

“Don’t think like that!”

“I can’t help it. I can see it coming down the tracks like a freight train, and we’re stuck.”

“It’s a small chance, Michael, not a guarantee. So don’t you dare throw it back in my face. How dare you resent me for doing the right thing!”

“The right thing for who?”

“For our family!”

“Maybe for you, but it was never the right thing for me.”

“How can you stand there and say that to me?”

“Because that’s how I feel, Catherine. That’s my truth. I didn’t get to have a say in any of this because you took my choices away from me!”

I turned on the water and giggled when the soap squished between my hands, like a slippery fish.

“We have to move, Michael. We can’t stay here anymore. She’s too dangerous.”

“I’m not moving again. This is my family home, Catherine. The house my parents raised me in. This is where I belong.”

“Well, I’m going back to Cork to my family home—where I belong, where that monster can’t find us!”

“Back to the back-ass of nowhere in Ballylaggin? And where do you expect me to work? Or do you expect me to pack up my family farm and take it with me?”

“You know I have money, Michael. That’s never been something we’ve had to worry about. For Christ’s sake, our children’s children won’t even have to worry. My father saw to that when he left me the family estate in his will.”

“I’m not living off your family’s generational fucking wealth, Catherine.”

“But it’s perfectly fine for us to live off the farm you inherited from your father?”

“Have you considered Caoimhe’s schooling? She’s halfway through sixth class and has switched primary schools three bloody times already, and that’s not even considering what another move will do to Elizabeth. You heard what her teacher said. She’s barely managing junior infants as it stands, and she has the other children terrified from her outbursts.”

“It’s called trauma, Michael, and you of all the people in the world should understand how she feels.”

“Don’t go there…”

“She’s an extremely bright girl, and you’d know that if you paid her a minute of your time. Do you remember even one of the many positive things our daughter’s teacher had to say about her? No, of course you don’t, because you only hear the negative when it comes to Lizzie.”

“Can you blame me?”

“How dare you! There is nothing wrong with our daughter, but there is something very wrong with her father. What a coward you are, letting your fear blind you from loving our little girl.”

“That’s rich coming from the woman who hasn’t walked in my shoes.”

“In case you’ve forgotten, I’m the one looking after Lizzie. I’m the one taking her to every appointment, not you.”

“I’ve paid every doctor you’ve taken her to, haven’t I?”

“And I’ve already told you that I have more than enough money to pay for them. There’s more to being a father than writing checks.”

Humming under my breath, I wrestled with the soap, trying to squish it between my hands. My eyes looked at me from the mirror and I frowned. I didn’t like to look at my eyes for too long. They scared me when they changed colors. They talked to me when they got dark. Inside my head. Whispers, whispers, whispers.

“And were you planning on leaving your cancer behind ya when you up and run again? Hmm? Because you’re halfway through your third round of chemo and in no fit state to leave the house, let alone the county!”

“They have hospitals in Cork, too, you know, and at least that horrible creature won’t find us in my hometown.”

“I’m not moving again, Catherine. I refuse to.”

“Fine, if you want to be stubborn and stay here to tend your farm, then go right ahead. But I’m going home, where it’s safe, and I’m taking our girls with me.”

“Look, can we just talk about this calmly before jumping the gun?”

“What’s to talk about? That monster found us, she took my child, and I’m leaving before she can do it again.”

“Yes, but she didn’t hurt her. She took her for a couple of hours and brought her back.”

“Without telling her mother she was taking her! Jesus Christ, Michael, the girls don’t even know the woman. Don’t you understand how dangerous this was? Anything could have happened to Lizzie!”

“Liz?” Caoimhe poked her head around the bathroom door and smiled. “There you are.”

I frowned when I saw her. She never smiled at me. She was always cross with me.

“Nothing happened. She brought her back without a mark on her.”

Caoimhe’s smile turned into a sad one. “Come on.” She held her hand out for me. “Come with me.”

“Why?” I asked, feeling confused.

“This time. What happens next time? What if she takes a turn and decides to…”

“Because I want to play with you,” she said, giving me a big smile. “Hurry up.”

Excited now, I tossed the slippery soap into the sink and turned off the tap before jumping down. Drying my hands on my pajamas, I followed my sister across the landing and into her room.

Caoimhe was almost twelve, which meant she had a big bed like our parents. I was four and still had to sleep in a small bed, but I didn’t mind because I still got to sleep with all my teddies.

“Are you okay?” she asked, waiting for me to come inside before closing the door behind us. “You weren’t listening to that, were you?”

“Mammy’s cross,” I replied, making a beeline for her giant bed. Caoimhe never let me go into her room anymore, not since I started junior infants and she was always cross with me, so I was excited to be here now. “Daddy’s cross, too.”

“Yeah, I know.” She walked over to her boom box and switched it on. When the familiar song drifted from the speakers, I smiled.

“This one’s my favorite,” I told her, sitting cross-legged in the middle of her bed. Before I started big school, she used to let me hang out with her all the time. That’s how I knew about all the pop stars and singers.

“I know.” She looked over her shoulder and smiled at me. “You remember the name of the band, don’t you?” Her tone was teasing now. “You better not have forgotten the name of the best band in the world.”

“Fleetwood Mac,” I said proudly before pointing at the stereo. “And that’s their album called Rumours.” She played it all the time and I knew the words of the songs better than the prayers I learned at school.

“Excellent,” she praised, turning up the volume when the shouting from downstairs got louder. “And who is our witchy queen?”

“Stevie.”

“And our guitar king?”

“Lindsey.”

Caoimhe’s smile grew bigger. “And what’s my favorite song?”

“‘Landslide.’”

“And Mam’s?”

“‘The Chain.’”

“And what’s yours?”

“‘Silver Springs.’”

“And who else do we love?” My sister pointed to the T-shirt she was wearing, the one with the smiley face on it. She was wearing a pair of baggy jeans with holes in the knees, too, and her wrists were covered with bangles and bracelets. She also had a silver, moon-shaped necklace pendant around her neck, and I wanted to look just like her when I was bigger. “I’ll give you a hint,” Caoimhe said, still pointing to her shirt. “It starts with Nir…”

“Nirvana!” I filled in, feeling excited because she looked so happy with me. I liked it when people were happy with me. It made me feel warm in my belly, not like the burning-hot feeling when I made them sad. Like Daddy. He was always sad when he looked at me, and that didn’t feel good. Not good at all.

“Am I bad, Caoimhe?”

“What?” My sister’s brows scrunched together, and she gave me a funny look. “Where did you hear that?”

I shrugged. “Don’t know.”

“No, Liz.” Caoimhe heaved out a big breath and climbed onto the bed with me. “You’re not bad.” Her hands were warm when they pulled me onto her lap, but her voice was sad. It made the burning feeling grow. The one that made me want to scream. The one that made me want to scratch my skin. “You’re just complicated.”

“How come you don’t want me in your school?” I turned in her lap to look at her. “Do you hate me?”

“No,” she whispered, sounding super sad. “I just get frustrated, that’s all.”

“Because of me?”

She nodded.

“I’m sorry.”

“No, Liz, I’m sorry.” Her arms tightened around me, making me feel warm and happy. Making the burning, itchy pressure in my throat go away. “I need to have more patience with you.”

“Does Daddy hate me?”

“No.” She pulled me closer. “He’s just worried because of Grandad and Nell.”

“Who’s Nell?”

“Remember that weirdo who showed up to dinner today with the Christmas presents?” Settling me between her legs, she freed my hair from my ponytail. “The one Mam got upset with for taking you to the river?”

I thought about the lady that came to our house today and smiled. “We fed the ducks.”

“That’s Dad’s sister.” She continued to brush my hair out with her fingers. “Nell.”

“I didn’t know Daddy had a sister,” I replied. “She never came here before.”

“That’s because his sister is a rip-roaring lunatic,” Caoimhe explained, braiding my hair. “Just like her dad was before he died.”

“Her dad?”

“Grandad Young.”

“What’s a lunatic?”

“Someone who’s crazy and hears voices.” Caoimhe sighed. “That’s why Grandad drowned in the river when Dad was a kid. The voices told him to jump in.”

“But I hear voices.” My eyes widened. “I can hear your voice right now.”

“Not real voices,” Caoimhe chuckled, still working on my hair. “Pretend voices.” She poked my temple with her finger. “Inside your head.”

“But the lady wasn’t rip-roaring at me,” I replied, scrunching my brows up. “She wasn’t talking to any voices when we were feeding the ducks.”

“Probably because she was too busy thinking about a way to feed you to the ducks,” she replied, sounding worried now. “You’re lucky she didn’t throw you in.”

“But I can’t swim yet.”

“I know.” Her voice was sad again. “That’s why Mam is so upset. She thought you weren’t coming back today.”

“Because the lady took me to feed the ducks?”

“Because she took you to the river.” Caoimhe shivered. “You must never be alone with her.”

“Never?”

“Never ever, and if she ever comes back and tries to take you away, then you have to run, Liz.”

“Run?”

“Run.” Finishing with my braid, she turned me around to face her. “As fast as you can.”

“How did the voices get into Grandad and the lady?” I asked, shuffling closer to my sister.

“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “I think they were just born with it.”

“Can they get better?” Nestling into her chest, I reached up and touched her cheek; my favorite way to snuggle. “Can the doctors take the voices away?”

“Well, Grandad’s up in heaven with holy God now, so he’s not suffering anymore.”

“Suffering?”

“I mean the voices are gone and he’s all better.”

“Holy God fixed Grandad?”

“Yep,” she replied. “Because when you go to heaven, all of your pain goes away.”

I smiled to myself.

That was a nice thought.

“Does Daddy hear the voices, too? Is that why he gets so cross with me?”

“No, Dad’s fine.” She sighed heavily. “And he’s not cross with you, I promise. He’s paranoid of history repeating itself. He’s just scared, that’s all.”

“Of me?”

“No, Liz, he’s not scared of you. Dad’s just… It’s really complicated, and you’re too little to understand any of this.” Sighing heavily, she stroked my cheek with her thumb and smiled again, but this time she looked even sadder. “When you’re a grown-up, I’ll explain everything to you.”

“But I want to know now.”

“Trust me, you don’t.”

“But you’re not a grown-up,” I pointed out. “So how come you get to know?”

“Because I learned about it the hard way.” She sounded sad again. “I wish I didn’t have to know any of this crap.”