“I want to know all about that,” Gizelle said eagerly.
“Conal
l has had a very hard time,” Aideen explained. “He lost his father when he was young, and his music career was very challenging. Going deaf was hardest of all, of course. But he was very strong and smart and worked very hard to make the best of everything.”
Gizelle listened intensely, and nodded because Aideen seemed to expect it.
“He made something amazing for himself in Boston,” she continued. “And he won’t tell you because he cares for you, but he will be very, very sad to give those things up.”
Gizelle’s eagerness turned to ash in her chest.
“He has a life in Boston. Family. Success. Staying here with you, he gives all of that up.” Aideen’s voice was so sensible and matter-of-fact. Of course this was true.
“I can let him hear,” Gizelle said in a small voice.
“He’s spent years living with his disability,” Aideen reminded her. “He turned it into a remarkable asset. And what would you do in Boston? Walk to business meetings with him so you could hold his hand? How would you explain that? Magic isn’t something most people in Boston believe in. Normal shifters are still a secret in most circles.”
She sighed and rubbed her face, looking suddenly very vulnerable. “Gizelle, you’re a sweet young woman. You clearly care about my son, and he’s very fond of you, but think about what you’d be asking him to give up. Really think about it. Try to understand it.”
Aideen’s eyes were earnest and direct and so exactly the same blue as Conall’s. “His life. The business he spent so much of his heart building. He has family and so many friends in Boston. He’d be turning his back on all of that, and what are you giving him in return?”
“He said... he said I gave him music back,” Gizelle said, trying to remember why that had felt like such a momentous thing when he said it. She tried to recall the other things he said that had made her feel so useful and they all seemed so small and foolish. Making love to him and making him laugh could not compare to a career. A career in a city.
“Losing music? That didn’t break him. Giving up everything he worked so hard on? That could.”
Gizelle stared, conflicted and hurting inside. “He’d have me,” she said faintly.
Aideen patted her hand and didn’t have to say how little that was. “He would get over you if you let him go,” she assured her. “He is smart and would know that you did the right thing when he thought about it more. This island is the best place for you, of course. But Boston is the best place for him.”
Gizelle’s antelope was trembling and anxious, pacing in her head, and the whispering all seemed too loud and overwhelming. Gizelle had to resist the impulse to shift with all of her will. She had promised herself she wouldn’t flee and right now that was the only thing she wanted to do.
She wanted to run and run because nothing she could do would be right. She would hurt Conall if she asked him to stay. She would hurt him if she told him to go. Was Aideen right, that the hurt wouldn’t last for him if she let go? She knew it would hurt forever for herself.
“I don’t know what to do,” she confessed.
Aideen sighed. “I’m so sorry, Gizelle. I just... don’t want him to resent you.”
“Resent me?” That sounded worst of all.
“If he gave that all up for you, after a while, he’d probably regret it. He wouldn’t be happy here, and he’d always wonder why.”
“Regret,” Gizelle whispered.
Regret was a pile of broken glasses and bare feet.
“He’d miss you, of course,” Aideen said sweetly. “At first. But he could have a normal life back in Boston.”
Whatever else Gizelle was, she knew she was not normal. Hard as she tried, she would never be anything close.
She wanted to weep, and fling herself into the air and leap away, and she wanted to curl into a ball that wouldn’t let the pain in. She wanted to cry, but her eyes were dry and her voice was gone, choked by horror.
“Don’t make him choose,” Aideen suggested. “Everyone knows you like to run away. That’s all you have to do.”
Gizelle raised searching eyes to Aideen’s lovely face. She was Conall’s mother. A mother would know the best thing for her child.
“I know you’ll do the right thing,” Aideen said, patting her hand gently.
Running would be so easy.