By R. N. Cogley
Will is sitting in his bedroom. He’s at his desk. Past exam papers and textbooks are open in
front of him but he’s not looking at them. His mind is elsewhere and his eyes stare blankly at
his phone screen. Will scrolls through social media sites, filling pictures of people he knows
and does not know with giant red hearts. In the pictures, people are smiling happily; they’re
either smiling with a group of friends or smiling beside their significant other. Will thinks of
how he would look in these pictures but winces when he does. He thinks he would look too out
of place. His unsymmetrical, pale face would not conform; his practiced, crooked smile would
look more like a frown. He wouldn’t look as happy as the people surrounding him. He shuts
down the application and locks his phone, leaving the screen in darkness.
A knock comes to Will’s door. The person on the other end does not wait for Will to welcome
her inside. Instead, she walks straight in after knocking.
“Mam, how many times have I asked you to wait until I respond before you come in?” Will
says.
“This is my house, Will,” his mother, Julia says. “When you start paying the bills you can
demand whatever you want.”
“But-”
His father Martin steps in after his mother.
“Are you talking back to your mother?” Martin asks. He readjusts his red tie which matches
Julia’s red dress.
“I was just-”
“That’s enough backchat from you.” Martin’s finger points accusingly at Will.
Will does not protest further. He closes his eyes, licks his lips and prays that his father will
drop the matter. His submissive gesture works.
Julia rubs Martin’s shoulder, calming him. “Anyway, we’re heading for the week. Will you be
here to keep an eye on the house? The dishwasher needs to be emptied and all the other jobs
will need to be done as well,” she tells Will.
“Of course, he’ll be here,” Martin says. “It’s not like he’ll be meeting up with his friends like
a normal person his age.”
“Oh, don’t be so mean, Martin,” Julia says. “They all talk on their phones these days.”
Martin stares through Will. “You should be out with your friends. Not in here on your phone
rotting your brain.”
Will does not look his father in the eye.
“God. Your generation disgusts me,” Martin spits.
Julia leads Martin out of the room before he can say anything else. Will immediately shuts his
bedroom door and jumps onto his bed. He grinds his teeth and his face is warm with rage. He
wants to scream. Suddenly, it feels like the walls in his room are closing in on him, trapping
him in a cage. Will has called this bedroom “his” for eighteen years, but every day it feels less
welcoming. He knows he is not a prisoner. After all, it does not cost over ninety thousand euro
a year to house him, or at least he thinks it doesn’t. Still, Will does not feel free. He searches
for his phone, angrily ripping the duvet and sheets from his bed. Where is that thing? Will thinks.
When he finds it on the floor, he texts his friend Ben with shaking, frustrated
fingers, “My parents are gone now.”
“Nice. Should I come over now then?” Ben replies.
“Yeah, you might as well. They’re going to Westport for the week, so you shouldn’t meet them
on the road.”
“Cool. On my way.”
Anxious butterflies flutter in Will’s stomach while he waits for Ben. Ben is the captain of the
local hurling team and the most sought-after boy in their school. Will, on the other hand, is
Ben’s opposite. They were friends in primary school but drifted apart when Ben became “cool”
in secondary school. Until last week, they hadn’t spoken to each other in almost six years.
Seven days ago, something shocking happened between them: they shared a kiss. It wasn’t
long or passionate and it was more of a quick peck. It happened in the PE storeroom and both
boys were left with more questions than answers. But one thing was certain: neither of them
would speak about what happened between them.
When Ben arrives, he says something about The White Lady of Ballymagyr Castle. Will is
confused; he’s never heard of a White Lady or Ballymagyr Castle. Ben gets excited by this.
“What!” Ben shouts. “Surely, you’ve heard of her. Everyone’s heard of her.”
Will shakes his head from side to side.
“Ah, come on,” Ben says. “The White Lady?”
Will says nothing. He doesn’t like ghosts or anything demonic like that. At age eight, he
watched a YouTube video titled, “Ghost Caught on Tape.” Everyone in school was talking
about the video, Ben included, so Will decided to conform by watching it. When he got home
from school he switched on his dad’s computer and anxiously typed the words into a search
engine. It took a while for the video to load, and it ended up taking almost an hour to watch a
thirty second video. Anyway, the video was shot with an eery green tint, and a rocking chair
rested in the middle of the frame. Nothing happened for the first few seconds, but Will still
held his breath with fear. Midway through, the rocking chair started to rock and within seconds
a screaming woman with a cut face ran on screen. Will did not know who this woman was at
the time, but he later found out that she was Regan MacNeil from The Exorcist. Will got such
a fright he fell off his dad’s chair. For months afterwards, Will feared that this screaming
woman would pop out of every corner. Needless to say, Ben’s mention of the White Lady
brought all of these fears back to Will.
Ben decides to bring Will to Ballymagyr Castle. Will does not want to go but Ben insists, and
you never say no to Ben. The drive isn’t long, and the day is sunny. Will has to slide down in
his seat if an oncoming car passes by them during the drive and when they reach the Castle,
Ben has to scope out the area to make sure no one from school is there before he invites Will
to follow him. There’s a car parked there but it doesn’t worry Ben. It has a foreign number
plate, so the car’s owners are more than likely renting the Castle Cottages from Booking.com.
The Castle looks more like a giant house than a castle and half of it is painted pink. Will expected
giant, stone, Norman-like architecture like Reginald’s Tower in Waterford City. He went there on a
school tour in sixth class and still remembers what it looks like on the inside.
Nevertheless, Will can tell that the Ballymagyr building is very old.
“Do you want to get a little closer to it?” Ben asks.
Will reluctantly nods in agreement. He follows Ben with his arms tightly folded across his
chest. They make their way across a well-kept garden. Ben looks straight ahead while Will
looks at the ground, examining his skinny legs. Ben tells Will that there is a tennis court
somewhere on the grounds and Will fakes interest; he doesn’t care for sports or sporting
equipment. Then Ben tells Will about the Castle’s history: it was built by the Normans, acted
as headquarters for Oliver Cromwell’s son-in-law, was visited by the Earl of Essex in the
1500’s, and was connected to Killag graveyard by a secret tunnel. These facts intrigue Will,
and he feels proud to know someone who knows so much about the Castle he’s never heard of.
They get closer to the Castle and stand side by side. Ben looks up at the Castle with his mouth
opened and Will squints at it.
“It’s fairly big, isn’t it?” Ben says.
“It is,” Will mumbles.
“We probably can’t head inside. We shouldn’t really be here anyway.” Ben runs his fingers
through his hair. Will imagines how soft Ben’s hair feels.
“Is this what you do often?” Will asks.
“What? Do what often?”
“Bring people to places where they shouldn’t be?” Will teases.
Ben coughs after choking on his saliva. “No.”
“I think you do,” Will says.
“Why do you think that?”
“Why wouldn’t I think that? Everyone in the school talks about you, everyone knows your
name and who you are. Every girl wants to be with you. You could have whoever you wanted,”
Will says.
Ben shuts his eyes tightly and quickly opens them. “So, you think I bring every girl in school
here and do what? Ride them on this lawn?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You might as well have.”
There is a silent moment. The blow of the wind through the grass and the chirping of birds are
the only audible sounds.
“I’m sorry if I hurt you,” Will says. “I didn’t mean for it to come off like that.”
“It’s okay,” Ben says. “I just hoped you looked at me differently than that.”
“What do you mean?”
Ben exhales loudly. “Never mind.”
“Tell me.”
Ben huffs again. “Everyone thinks I have this perfect life. I’m the captain of the hurling team
and play mid-field for Gaelic football. At home, I’m the son destined to take over the farm and
everybody thinks that’s all I could want, all I want to achieve. In school, I’m the boy that gets all
the girls and everyone thinks I’m off having sex whenever I want it. That’s what everyone
sees when they look at me. That’s all I am.”
Will bites his lip so hard he tastes blood. He hates that he’s upset Ben. “I know you’re much
more than that, Ben.”
“And you’re the first person I’ve brought here by the way. You’re the only person I’ve ever
wanted to bring here.”
Will cannot say anything. In that moment, all he wants to do is wrap his arms around Ben.
“So, The White Lady …” Ben starts. His eyes are filling up and he is holding his breath to stop
the tears from falling.
“Can I kiss you?” Will interrupts.
Ben sniffles and then looks around. “Why?”
“Because I want to.”
“Someone could see us.”
Will steps closer to Ben, just like he did a week earlier in PE. “Do you want me to stop?” Will
asks.
“No,” Ben says.
Ben takes Will in his arms and kisses him. Will’s body slots into Ben as if it was made
specifically for him. Ben rests his palms at the bottom of Will’s arched back and Will has his
wrists crossed behind Ben’s neck. A gentle wind blows around them and they feel like they are
the only people in the world.
“Thank you,” Will whispers when their lips part.
Ben wonders why Will thanked him, like their kiss is a sort of contractual obligation and Will
is grateful that Ben upheld his side of the agreement. He wants to step into Will’s brain to figure
out everything going on inside.
“You’re welcome,” Ben laughs but this makes Will cross. His smile falls and he steps away
from Ben’s hold.
“What’s so funny?”
“You thanked me for the kiss. Why’s that?”
“Do other people not thank you?” Will asks with a tilted head.
“Well, no.”
Will looks to the ground, hanging his head in embarrassment. Weird Will strikes again, he
thinks to himself. Ben moves closer to him, dismantling the gap Will had created.
“Hey, don’t worry about it. It’s kind of cute in a way.” Ben puts his arms around Will again
and Will buries his face into Ben’s chest.
“Thanks,” Will says.
Ben laughs again. “You’re welcome.”
For a moment they wait there, wrapped in each other as they stand in the neat garden of
Ballymagyr Castle. Will hugs tighter and Ben hugs back. He is safe in Ben’s arms, Will thinks.
No one can take that moment away from him.
R. N. Cogley is an Irish writer. His work has featured in The Wexford Bohemian, With Confetti Magazine, Provenance Journal, and many more. He is the author of The Elemental Witches series. You can find out more at www.rncogley.wordpress.com.
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