The Rocky Road to Dublin

People say they're in love, with someone they hardly know. Or someone they only just met. Or saw. Or kissed. So many presumptions of love.
But it's not true. There's the type of love that's not really love, you just think it is. Where he loves you and treats you like you want him to and makes you breakfast in bed. And you think you love him.
Then there's another kind. Where he hates you sometimes and you hate him and you want to hurt eachother so badly so you can make the other feel better afterwards.
Maybe that's love.
Or maybe not.


4. It's strange


Niall. Hm, wierd name

I grabbed a Coke from the fridge and rolled my eyes when Fern came skipping into the kitchen wearing nothing but her underwear and an oversized T-shirt. 

"Hello, skank." I smiled and Fern kissed me on the cheek in way of an apology.

"Hi slutbag." Fern sat down at the round kitchen table and ate the porridge I'd made for her. It didn't taste as bad once I'd put blueberries in it. And way too much sugar.

Today Mum said she'd go down and visit her parents. I told her I wanted to stay at home because I think I'd caught a cold from being outside yesterday. And I did, because my nose was stuffy and red and I was sneezing every time I wasn't talking. 

So there I was, drinking from a Coke can and watching my sister run upstairs to get reading for meeting our grandparents again.

"Bye, Daisy. Love you." Mum kissed me on the top of my head and I told her I loved her too. Then I walked Mum and Fern to the front door and waved as they got into the car and drove off down the hill. 

The house we were staying in was a nice cottage-type home with a dark green front door and blackberry bushes growing in the front garden. We had a peach tree in the back garden and a swing set. I sat in the kitchen for a while, just listening to the radio and drinking.

The knock on the door sent me leaping and I snapped out of my daydreaming to answer it. 

"Hi Jenna my mum want-" a pause, then, "you're not Jenna."

I raised one eyebrow at Niall standing there with my mum's old wedding dress in his arms and a slightly bewildered expression.

"No. I'm not Jenna. Gold star for noticing. However, I am her daughter so you may come in and explain how you know her."

Niall smiled apolagetically and edged himself and the dress in sideways. It was white with lapis lace work along the torso. My mothers wedding dress, and I don't ever remember her mentioning her wedding but I remember her telling me it was beautiful. 

After setting the dress down on the couch, Niall looked at me, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his brown jacket.

"My mum knew Jenna when they were kids. Jenna asked for my mum to fix up her dress."

I nodded, yawned and then smiled. "Want a cup of tea?"

Niall nodded and followed me into the kitchen, sitting down at the kitchen table. 

"You look different when you're not dressed like a rainbow." Niall said while I took the milk out the fridge. 

"You look the same," I said, "how many sugars?"

"Two, and milk. You're saying I still look like a walking pickup line?" He smiled and I braced my hands on the counter behind me.

"Yeah. You look like the type of guy to fuck the first girl he sees."  

Niall raised his eyebrows and smirked. "You're not a very nice person."

"I never said I was. Here." I handed him the mug and picked up my own. Halfway through my tea-drinking, Niall looked at the fridge, where a bunch of pictures of my family was put up with magnets that looked like clovers. 

"Who's that?" Niall pointed to a picture of Fern and I at the beach, laughing. It was about a year ago.

I shrugged. "Me and my sister."

He nodded, set down his mug and got up. 

"Right, I'll see you later then."

I frowned. "What's wrong?" 

But he'd already left, slamming the door behind him.





I screwed her sister. I don't know why it bothered me, really. It just did. I didn't feel good, seeing the softened expression on Daisy's face when she saw the picture.

The rain began as soon as I left and I heard Daisy calling out behind me and I turned briefly to see her in the doorway. 

When I got home I stumbled upstairs and flopped onto my bed, panting heavily. Despite the guilt that was coursing through me, I could only manage one coherent thought.

Daisy is strange. Beautiful and mean, yes. But strange. 


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