I continue crying, dropping my face into my upturned palms while he sits next to me in silence.
After a while, I look up at him, with red-rimmed eyes, and say, "It's just not fair, you know."
He looks back at me solemnly.
" I am my da's only daughter, and he always told me to be independent in a world where women are second-rate, so I cannot understand why he is doing this." I glance at him, wondering how much I can say, but then I decide I just do not care who he tells. The whole world needs to know the injustice of what is being done to me. "He only wants to further his own aspirations of being more important than what he actually is."
His voice is soft, when he speaks, "What is it that your da wants you to do?"
" He wants me to marry Gerard, the neighbour's son. I do not even know him."
" Maybe it would not be so bad if you married him."
I look at him appalled.
" I have seen him. He looks well brought up and he would not treat you ill."
" That's not the point. I do not want to marry him."
I feel the damp of the night air settle on my shoulders and I shudder as a cold shiver squeezes through me.
For a couple of nights, I dream of Devlin. We are always sitting on a tree trunk surrounded by trees and shafts of sunlight.
I get to the point where I actually want to escape into my dreams, away from the truth of moving. In my reality everything becomes a haze and I remain in shock and disbelief as my mom and Sean continue past me and through me, as if I am invisible, not taking any notice of me in their busy schedule to make the move happen without any problems.
Then one night, without any warning, I do not dream of Devlin. I am in a small, dank room. The roof slopes down on both sides of the room. The corners are dark and dusty. A single, metal bed stands beside a small circular window. There is hardly any space for anything else.
Even in my dream, I feel a deep sense of loss.
I see myself stand in front of the circular window. Then I am looking out, down to the ground far below. I recognise a man below. He is wearing a strange jacket and pants, and he looks like a picture from one of my history books. The man looks up at me silhouetted in the small window, as I glare down at him with a loathing I cannot understand.