Friday, 23 March 2012


I have been sitting on the floor, my back resting against the side of the bed. He sleeps easily, tangled in sheets and contentment. I sip red wine from a big goblet and eat Cracker Jacks out of the box. Once, a thousand years ago when I was eight I told Caleb I wanted to find a compass at the bottom of a box. He still buys boxes of Jacks for me to keep the hope alive, and still I have that hope that when I find that stupid compass I will know the way home.

I grow tired of the candy and shake the remainder of the contents out on the floor. At the bottom is a paper pouch. I open it and find a sticker of an Irish flag. I peel it off and stick it on my forehead.

Diabhal, I say under my breath.

His sleepy, gentle hand traces my hair.

Neamhchiontach, he whispers back.