Of All the Things that I Don't Know (Spot Conlon + OC)

Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Spot felt as if he might be sick.

Staring at Kate from across Mary's worn dining table as she contentedly chatted with the animated old woman made a strange heaviness fill Spot's chest and abdomen. Her face shone mesmerizingly in the candlelight and her eyes sparkled with a vivacity that he hadn't seen in weeks. But still, he felt his senses overwhelmed with an unusual emotion, one that he was having an immensely difficult time identifying and quelling.

He had wanted Kate to join them for morning mass earlier in the day, and he had encouraged Mary to extend the invitation for her to attend their Sunday night dinner as well. But, sitting here now, after a pleasant and relaxing day with Kate and Mary, Spot couldn't help but notice the intense anxiety that suddenly began surging through him. It made him want to vomit, or scream, maybe even punch something and he hadn't the first clue as to where it was coming from and why it was so inescapable at the moment.

He saw Mary's eyes flash in his direction momentarily before turning back towards Kate and saying, "It appears we've lost someone, my dear. Are we boring you, Thomas?"

Spot scowled irritably at Mary, but as Kate's eyes worriedly met his, he softened his expression, murmuring, "I'm just tired. Those extra shifts at the dock this week were brutal."

Mary gave him a warm, somewhat mischievous smile in response, turning back to Kate to say, "Thomas has always insisted on bringing in extra money to the lodging house for boys that can't make the nightly deposit. Since he was a wee one he's felt the need to fund those less fortunate than him."

Spot sighed and pushed his chair back from the table, growling, "Mary, why don't I get started on those dishes before you bring up more boring nonsense about me."

He shot Mary a warning glare as he began gathering up the plates and utensils from the table, but Mary simply waved her hand, disregarding his scorn.

"Spot, I'll take care of the dishes."

Kate's whisper and gentle touch to his back sent a further wave of sickness through him. As he turned slowly to look down at the beautiful girl dressed in Mary's hand-me-down skirt and shirt, he was appalled at his urge to get as far away from her as possible. Yet, strangely enough, as Kate reached up and took the dishes from him, swiftly moving towards the kitchen without another word, he knew that she too could sense his need to flee.

And, after he had quickly excused himself from the apartment, closing the door to the sound of Kate pumping water, he felt his stomach unclench slightly and the breath more fully fill his lungs. Making his way up the stairs of the lodging house, he nodded curtly to several of his boys, and then, once he had made his way out onto the roof he let out a massive sigh of relief. The night was frigid and the wind blew harshly against his thin shirt, but he took little notice, leaning against the ledge and quickly rolling and lighting a cigarette. Once he had taken a much-needed inhale of the smoke, forcefully blowing it to the sky above, he felt his mind finally begin to clear somewhat.

And after several more moments passed, with a few more hefty drags from his cigarette, Spot was much more able to clearly sort through the possible causes of his uncomfortable panic in Mary's apartment. He let his mind wander back to the events of the day, squinting his eyes up at the sparse scattering of stars in the sky as he considered his calm afternoon and evening. But, thinking back to earlier that morning, before the sun had even risen, he suddenly realized the exact instance that had led to the uncomfortable simmering beneath his skin for the majority of the day.

When Spot had roused himself shortly before dawn that morning to make his way back to the lodging house, he had dressed as quietly as possible so as not to disturb Kate's peaceful slumber. She had been lying so serenely on her side, her hair falling out in gentle curls from the messy braid she had plated the night before and her chest rising and falling with a steady, dependable rhythm. But he had not been able to help himself from planting a gentle kiss on her pale cheek before leaving. Her eyelids had fluttered sleepily as she had rolled her head towards him.