“Five past three. Bride’s prerogative, me arse.”

“Dad, just give her a second. She needs to pee.”

“This is all your fault, Eve.”

“How is everything always my fuckin’ fault?” screams Evie.

“What’s the matter, Mommy?” asks Samantha.

“Nothing, sweetie. Now go play in the sitting room. Watch telly. Keep your dress clean.”

“Maryam, you can’t keep Father Devenney waiting like this!” shouts Dad.

“Just a second!”

 

I hear another thump against the bathroom door.

“Dad, leave me sort this,” says Eve, resisting every temptation to lose her temper.

“Fine, but if you’d done your job in the first place—”

“I am Eve, Maid of Honour, not the first woman in the Garden of Eden, where the blame for the fall of all fuckin’ mankind can be laid at my feet.”

“Relax, I was just saying—”

“Well, just don’t. I will sort this, so go watch some telly with your granddaughter, please.”

Silence.

Then, a little more quietly, “Is he gone?”

 

He’s gone.”

“Just you and me, Mary.”

“What’s the delay in there, Mare? Are we doing a number two?”

“God, no. I’m just—”

 

“Just what?”

“I don’t know.”

“Here, just open the door and let me in.”

“I’ll just put your dress down somewhere safe before it gets a mark on it, or I’ll never hear the fuckin’ end of it.”

I hear Eve shuffle about outside the door.

“I sometimes think these two religious lunatics purposely named me Eve so they could blame the whole world on me.”

I giggle.

“And Dad’s only really worried about getting his hole ate by Mam for keeping Father Mick Divine waiting.”

I smile at the thought of Fr. Mick.

.... Ah, Divine Mickey.

 

Even after all these years, the name still brings a smile to my face.

Father Micheál Devenney arrived in Kilmafanny in the summer of 1985, young, handsome and full of ideas about restoring the people's faith in my Son.

He had no idea what he was walking into.

Neither, for that matter, did I.

But I'm getting ahead of myself.

 

The bathroom door rattles.

“I see the door is still locked! What did I miss?”

“Divine Mickey,” Maryam mutters, already anticipating Eve’s response.

“The Ride.”

 

Both women dissolve into the absolute horrors of laughter.

“What the FUCK is going on down there?” their father bellows from his armchair in the sitting room.

“Nearly there, Dad!” Eve shouts back.

Then, lowering her voice, she turns to Maryam.

“Seriously, Mare, you need to unlock this door.”

Maryam opens it.

Eve slips inside, closing it behind her.

Big sis hugs her baby sister and whispers in her ear.
“Right, Mare. What’s going on?”

“Nothing.”

 

“So, why are we hiding out in here like Adam and Eve after doing the deed?”

I laugh, but it trails off before I can help myself.

Eve studies Maryam for a moment.

“Are you alright?”

Maryam studies the bride in the mirror.

“Everything is exactly how I planned it. Nuptial perfection for the wedding day. But yesterday, during the rehearsal, taking my vows with Father made me think about marriage.”

She turns away from the mirror.

“I’m getting married, Eve.”

Eve gives her a look.

“No shit, Sherlock.”

“No, I mean ... I’m actually getting married.”

The smile slips from Eve’s face, just a little.

“I know, Mare.”

 

“So why am I standing here wondering if I’m ready?”

Eve takes her hand.

“What’s frightening you, exactly?”

Maryam stares at their hands.

“What if loving someone isn’t enough? What if you wake up one morning and realise you’ve changed? Or he’s changed? What if the person you are today isn’t the person you want to be in twenty years?”

Eve is quiet for a moment.

“Jesus, Mare. It’s a wedding, not a life sentence.”

Maryam laughs, but it catches somewhere in her throat.

“I’m serious.”

“I know you are.”

Eve squeezes her hand.

 

“Listen, Mare. You’re both going to change. Of course you are. But you’re not promising to be the same people in twenty years. You’re promising to keep choosing each other, even when life gets messy.”

“And if we get it wrong?”

“Then you figure it out together. That’s the whole point.”

Eve pauses, then gives her the familiar sisterly look.

“Besides, you two have been living in sin for the last five years, so you’re more than ready to tie the knot!”

Maryam laughs, properly this time.

Outside, Dad shouts something about Father Devenney and the time.

Eve rolls her eyes.

 

“You know Joe’s going to turn into a cranky auld bastard like Dad in his time.”

“And I’ll probably end up like Mam, eating the hole off him.”
Eve bursts out laughing.

“Exactly. Two fuckin’ lunatics driving their kids around the bend.”

They dissolve into laughter.

Then Dad bangs on the door again.

“MARYAM!”

“COME ON TO FUCK!”

Eve shakes her head.

 

“Mare, if Dad wasn't outside that door, if the guests weren't waiting, if there wasn't a priest checking his watch every thirty seconds, would you still want to marry Joe?”

“Yes.”

“Then what's the problem?”

Maryam hesitates.

“Because I feel like someone or something is missing.”

“Missing?”

“Like I forgot to invite someone.”

Eve takes her hand.

“Everyone who is meant to be here is here.”

 

 

... I am here. Here am I.

I've been here all along.

Watching you walk away. Watching you live. Watching you fall. Watching you rise. Watching you fall again, rise again.

And now the bridegroom waits for you, and you feel an absence you cannot name.

You feel me.

I wish I could feel you.

You feel me because, somewhere deep inside you, there is a memory older than you are.

And it is calling you.