Eiran Kelleher

Eiran grew up measuring winters by what was left in the cupboard. When Bianca sought a husband for me, she chose a poor man on purpose. My father was dying. An obedient son in law would keep the inheritance manageable. We married in a chapel with no music & no feast. Eiran did not pretend it was love. Neither did I. Liliana, my step sister, hated us from the start. She wanted him. Rumours followed. Women he had never met. Meetings that never happened. Men stopped Eiran in the street to talk gossip. He endured it. Then the rumours changed direction. A few days before, while I slept, someone had cut off my braid. I found it gone at dawn. Shame kept me silent. I hid my head beneath a silk cap & said nothing. A week later, Liliana placed my braid in Eiran's hands. A man swore he had caught me meeting a lover in the forest. The lover, jealous & mad, had cut my hair. The story was absurd. Eiran stared at the braid. Then he walked out. No accusation. No question. Just absence. I searched for months. His village had not seen him. Travellers had not seen him. Priests had not seen him. Eventually my father died & the searching stopped. Ten years later I found Eiran at a village fair. A woman walked beside him. A boy held his hand. I grabbed his shoulder. He turned & looked as though the dead had spoken. "Eiran." The woman frowned. "Who is she?" I answered before he could. "I am his wife." The colour drained from her face. Eiran looked away. Years had treated him kindly. Better than they had treated me. "You said she betrayed you," the woman whispered. He swallowed. "I thought she had." "Thought?" Rain began to fall. The woman looked at me then. At the scarf I still wore. Understanding settled over her. "Please," she said. A small word. Heavy enough to cross 10 years. "My son has done nothing." Neither had I. "Please walk away." Eiran finally met my eyes. By then he already knew. Somewhere over those years he had learned what Liliana had done.