‘Ouch!’ he squealed. I had had enough of him for one day. I watched the happy families shopping for presents, enjoying the seasonal entertainment and pushed through the crowds towards the front door, wanting desperately to be home all of a sudden.
I was just about to leave when the obnoxious elf grabbed me by the arm. ‘Here — you forgot your photograph.’ She thrust it into my hand.
I opened the cardboard folder. We looked sweet. Inscribed on the bottom were the words: David, don’t forget to leave something out for Rudolph on Christmas Eve.’
I turned it over. Jack, that job is still on offer. Call me at 5677897.
The bastard.
*
It took me three months to pluck up the courage to contact Matt. I tried many times. I picked up the phone. Put down the phone. Picked up the phone. Put down the phone. I drove myself and everyone around me absolutely crazy. It wasn’t as if he had asked me to marry him. I wanted to call him, but I was scared.
Was he still married? Did I want to get involved with a married man? Did I even care that he was married? Maybe he felt sorry for me. Maybe he was still taking drugs. Maybe this. Maybe that. It was insane. I was blowing the whole thing out of proportion. He was an old childhood sweetheart, that’s all. Why was I carrying on like it was the most important thing in my life?
The phone rang for an eternity. I was just about to hang up when he answered.
‘Hi, Matt? It’s Jack.’
‘Who?’
Great. Fucking great. He didn’t even know who I was! ‘Jack. Jack Joyce.’ Then I heard him sniggering. ‘You bastard!’
‘Sorry, couldn’t resist it. How could I forget you? It’s only been a couple of months since you said you would phone.’
‘Well, sorry, I was busy.’
‘Look, can we meet up for coffee? How about I call over or something?’
‘Eh, no. It’s kind of hard to find my place. How about we meet in town?’
There was no way on this earth I was letting him see where I lived.
‘OK, what about Bewley’s in Grafton Street. When suits you?’
How about right now? I’ll hire a helicopter. ‘Tomorrow?’ I asked. Let me consult my non-existent social calendar.
‘Sure, tomorrow’s fine,’ he said breezily. ‘See you then. Bye!’
For the rest of the day I was in a complete spin. I pulled my wardrobe apart for something to wear, but nothing fitted me, not even my old maternity clothes. I ran to Alice for help, which was a bit of a joke. She gave me a dress which my father would have aptly described as a ‘frock’. I was big, but Alice was enormous, hence I was shocked when I couldn’t get it past my hips. I was so ashamed. In the end I settled for a jazzy tracksuit. It was the best I could do.
The following morning I was awake at 7 am. I wasn’t meeting Matt until 3 pm. In the meantime I tormented Alice.
‘What’s his name, love?’
‘Matt.’
‘Matt. Ah yes, puts me in mind of Matt Talbot. He was a bleeding alcoholic. Is he an alcoholic?’
‘No, Alice.’ Then again
‘My husband was an alcoholic. Fucked off with some young one. Gave me the pox as a going-away present and all, dirty bastard. They’re all dirty bastards. Where’s he taking you, anyway?’
‘Bewley’s coffee-shop.’
‘Bewley’s? Sure Bewley’s is full of prostitutes, love. You know your one across the way? Bucket fanny, with the new car? Got that on her back, so she did. They’re all at it. Is he a pimp, love?’
‘No, Alice. He’s nothing like that.’
‘And check his pockets for betting slips, love. Me sister Mary married a gambler. Had her heart broke. Poxy waster. They’re all poxy wasters.’
Eventually, I couldn’t take any more of Alice’s doom and gloom. I was still battling with my own confusion.
Three o’clock was an eternity coming. I walked into Bewley’s with David and looked around. I saw Matt sitting at a table, a pile of books in front of him.
‘You’re looking well,’ he commented, moving up to let us in.
‘I look like shite,’ I corrected him.
‘You look like shite,’ he agreed.
I took out a colouring book and markers and handed them to David.
‘Clever thinking,’ Matt nodded. ‘How’s it going?’ he added.
‘Fair to crap,’ I answered. It wasn’t too far from the truth.
‘I can’t get over the size of David. God, he’s a big chap, isn’t he?’
‘How old are yours?’ I enquired.
‘Six and eight. Jeanie’s six, Robert’s eight.’
‘Nice names.’ Fuck it. It’s now or never. ‘How’s Margaret?’ I said carefully. Margaret. Smargaret. The perfect cow.
‘Great. She works evenings — I mind the kids. It works out fine.’
On the game probably.
‘She’s a qualified nurse, now.’
‘Oh.’ That took the wind out of my sails. A regular Florence Nightingale, no doubt.
‘Have you ever thought about what I said, the last time we met?’
‘We said lots of things. Which thing in particular?’
‘About night school.’
‘You’re amazing, you know. We haven’t seen each other in years and you’re still saying the same things.’
‘That’s because you need to hear the same things.’
‘I don’t need anything,’ I remarked, quite pleased with myself.
‘Of course you do. We all do.’
‘Did you qualify as a psychologist in the last few years as well?’
‘Well… yes. Actually, I did.’
Jaysus!
‘But I don’t need any qualifications when it comes to you, Jack. I always had you figured. Right from the start.’
This was very annoying, to say the least. This wasn’t what I had planned at all.
‘Such arrogance,’ I noted. ‘Is it also part of your psychology training to dress up as Santa Claus and pinch women’s bottoms?’
‘Oh no. That part’s voluntary.’
I chuckled. He was doing it again. Making me laugh. ‘So what’s wrong with me, Dr Howard?’ I asked.
‘You mean to say you haven’t figured it out yet?’
‘No, Matt, I haven’t. But you have, I suppose?’
‘No, I’m not that arrogant. But I do know some things. Some things are very obvious to me now.’
He sipped his coffee. I was intrigued. I was also pissed off and didn’t know why. He hadn’t said or done anything to offend me.
Yet I felt small. Like I was an insect under his microscope.
‘Like what?’ I asked sharply.
‘Jack. You’ll know when you’re ready.’
Hey. This isn’t what I had expected. Didn’t he know he was ruining my fantasy? Shattering my delusions? I didn’t want a running commentary about my life, what I knew, or what I didn’t know. This wasn’t the dope head Matt I had had a crush on as a kid. I had been living in the past for so long I had forgotten we were older. Matt had taken a different road — that was apparent now. I wasn’t sure how to behave. It was like meeting a new individual. I would have to start from scratch.
‘I feel depressed a lot of the time. I feel… cheated.’ I was surprised at my own honesty.
‘In what way?’ He seemed to be genuinely interested.
‘Well, You Know Who, for instance.’ I diverted my eyes towards David, who was happy munching on a muffin and colouring in his book.
‘None of us were prepared for that,’ he admitted. ‘I can see you’ve done a great job.’
I burst out laughing. If only he knew the truth — the real truth. The rows, the stress, the loneliness. Maybe he did.
There was a lull in the conversation. I wished we were in a pub. ‘Fancy a drink?’ I found myself asking him.
‘No, thanks. I don’t drink.’
You wouldn’t say no to a
joint, though, would you? I thought.
‘I don’t do drugs either. I’ve been clean for four years,’ he added, as if he had read my thoughts.
This was positively unacceptable. I looked over his shoulder.
‘What?’ he asked.
‘Just checking for wings,’ I nudged him.
We both started to laugh. We sat for at least two hours. I was completely mystified by Matt’s transformation. He told me he had studied during the day for the last three years. He was in his final year and he hoped to set up a practice of his own.
‘I’m surprised,’ I admitted.
‘Why, didn’t think I would amount to much, did you?’
‘No.’ I wasn’t going to lie. I felt a little disappointed by my own honesty. Matt had been a wild thing, but one thing he had never been was stupid. He had brains to burn. I couldn’t figure out what had happened to cause such a huge change in his character. It was attractive. Something I would have liked a piece of, for myself.
I was still grappling with my life. I didn’t seem to plan anything, aspire to anything or have an innate sense of ambition about anything. I was a little jealous. I was still paying homage to my crappy job in Brady’s Urinals. Overall, I admired him, especially as he was a father of two children. I was struggling daily with one.
I noticed that additional information about Margaret wasn’t forthcoming. When he did mention her, it was censored and vague. This gave me hope. Before long, I found I had told him everything that had happened to me in the last few years. He just listened. It was so long since anyone had listened to me. It was wonderful. He was so easy to talk to. His chosen profession would suit him down to the ground. I decided he would do very well as a psychologist, and told him so.
‘Hey, listen. I have an idea, something that just might interest you,’ he said suddenly.
‘Go on,’ I said. ‘I’m all ears.’
‘Well, part of my psychology degree includes a course in family history.’
‘Yeah?’
‘It’s a ten-week course.’
‘So?’
‘The title of it is “Discovering Your Family History”.’
‘What in God’s name would I be interested in that for?’
‘Trust me. I think it would be right up your street. There’s a new course starting in September, one evening a week.’
‘I couldn’t afford it.’
‘It’s free.’
‘I have no baby-sitter.’
‘Jack, you can find one. Haven’t you a neighbour you could ask?’
‘I’m working all day.’
‘I told you already, it’s in the evenings.’ He gave a great big smile.
‘I don’t know,’ I prevaricated.
‘What’s there to lose?’ He seemed determined.
‘Why are you so keen to get me to do this?’
‘Why are you so keen not to do it?’
He was good. Really good. ‘I can’t see how a course in family history could help me.’
‘It helped me.’
‘I’m not you,’ I smiled at him. The real truth was, I had begun to feel uneasy at the thought of delving into such areas of my life. I was wondering why it made me so uncomfortable. The mere thought of my family made my stomach churn. I wasn’t sure whether I was ready to open up such a can of worms. The worms might turn out to be snakes. I had never liked snakes.
‘You’ve done this course?’ I asked.
‘Twice.’
‘I see.’ I was mulling it over.
‘Look, I’m doing it again this time. C’mon, do it with me — what have you got to lose?’
My mind was made up — for all the wrong reasons. The fact that he was going to be there clinched it. At the end of the day, it didn’t really matter. How was I to know it would change my life for ever?
I went home, as high as a kite. I stopped off at the off-licence on the way and bought myself a good few cans. Why not? I was celebrating! Things were looking up. He had shown a great interest in me. I was thrilled to bits.
When I had settled David in bed, I phoned Karen. ‘Guess what,’ I started.
‘You’re pregnant?’
‘Not unless it’s an immaculate conception.’
‘You’ve won the lotto?’
‘Karen! I met Matt Howard again.’
‘Oh God.’
‘You’ll never believe this.’ I told her word for word what had happened. Every tiny minute detail of it. ‘Are you listening to me?’ I finished excitedly
‘Yeah, I’m listening.’
‘Well, what do you think?’
‘What do I think of what?’
‘What the hell is wrong with you?’
‘Jack, you’re slurring your words.’
‘I am not!’ I threw the empty can of Budweiser towards the bin, and missed by a mile. ‘Come on, Karen, seriously — what do you think? Should I do this course?’
‘Yeah. Actually I think it’s time you did something else, other than drinking.’
‘What else is there to do, for Christ’s sake!’ I defended myself hotly. ‘You’re not the one stuck in every night with a child.’
‘Jack, you don’t have to be stuck in every night. Mick and I have offered to baby-sit loads of time, but you never want to go out.’
‘Well, that’s all going to change now. I’m going to do this course, Yep, I’m going to do it, and another thing — I’m going to make something of myself. If Matt can do it, I can,’ I said with confidence.
‘You shouldn’t need Matt to make any decisions, Jack. I’m tired of you saying you’ll do this and that. You never do it in the end.’
She was really annoying me. She didn’t understand how difficult it was with David, being a single parent with all that entailed. Anyone in my position would have a few drinks at night, especially if they had to type insurance claims for a living. It was my little treat. I wished people would stop being so negative. I didn’t want to talk about that, I wanted to talk about Matt. I’d had enough of Karen. It was all right for her. She had Mick, a great job, a lovely apartment and a car. I had none of those things. I was really angry with her.
‘Look, why don’t you two come over some day. I’ll cook us a meal, how about it?’ I tried to bridge the gap.
‘The last time we arrived, you had forgotten — remember?’
I had forgotten. It was awful. ‘Karen, I swear I won’t forget this time. I had a dose of food poisoning, I remember now. Hey, do you think Matt fancies me?’
I heard Karen let out a loud sigh. ‘Look, don’t get your hopes up. Keep your options open and your legs closed.’
I laughed and spilled a little of the beer on my tracksuit. ‘Shit. Must go, Karen. Tell Mick I send my love.’
‘Sure.’
The next day I went to the library. My hangover was particularly bad. I asked the assistant to recommend three really well-known psychologists. I came home with Jung, Rogers and Freud. After two pages I was bored stiff. The text might as well have been in Swahili, for I couldn’t understand any of it. It was what my father would have called ‘Gobbledegook’. I tried to memorise their names — that would be a start. From now on I was going to educate myself. I was going to match Matt’s conversation with delightful anecdotes and analogies — just as soon as I knew what they were. I pored over the books but my head was aching. David kept interrupting and kids kept knocking on the door. It was impossible to concentrate.
I was going to arrive at that course knowing something.
Anything. I could hardly wait for it to begin. I crossed off the days on the calendar and swore every day I was starting a diet. It didn’t occur to me that I had been on a diet since 1987 and the only pounds I had lost were monetary.
When the big day finally arrived, I was sick with nerves. It was a mixture of the night before and the thought of seeing Matt again. I had shyly asked Alice would she mind David for the one evening a week. She a
greed immediately. I was all set.
I had come to fear hope. Hope had the power to crush. Turning left into St Patrick’s National School reminded me of this one truth, a truth I had clung to. A truth that was old and outdated — one last remaining vestige of the old me. I was clutching it possessively, like an armed terrorist. I blushed at my own stupidity.
What are you doing here? I asked myself. I quickened my pace before I answered myself truthfully. I’m trying to change, came the loud reply. I don’t want to, came the other voice. The battle had commenced.
I was at the main entrance door. There was no turning back now. I paused outside, hoping to hear something, but the only sound was my thumping heart, and the two voices at war in my head.
‘Shut the fuck up!’ I told them.
The great T had spoken.
Chapter 10
I found the classroom easily — I could hear the sound of voices from inside. I took a deep breath and walked in. Matt was there, engrossed in conversation. I had expected the room to be full, like a real class, but instead I counted only seven people in all. If Matt hadn’t been present, I would have turned on my heel there and then. At that moment he spotted me and beckoned me to come over.
‘You made it.’ He seemed genuinely pleased.
The chairs were arranged in a semi-circle. I waited to see where everybody sat. There were pencils on each chair accompanied by paper and some handouts. I picked them up and started to read. Very soon, people began to take their seats. I felt extremely nervous, like I was back in school. Matt sat beside me and that helped. A Woody Allen lookalike, only twice his size, took his place at the centre of the room. He was a bit dishevelled, unshaven with a wild mop of knotty hair. The kind of person who deplored wasting time on such menial chores as personal hygiene. The kind of person who was so fascinated with life and figuring it out, that they frequently forgot to eat.
‘You’re most welcome, everybody,’ he started. ‘Thank you all for coming this evening. My name is Brian, and I am your facilitator. The course lasts for ten weeks, every Tuesday evening from 7 to 9 pm. It would be helpful at this stage if you would all oblige by wearing these nametags until I get to know you all. Just to make things a little bit more interesting, I would be grateful also if you would draw a little picture on your nametag, just to let us all know how you are feeling today. Don’t worry, I am not expecting any great work of art.’
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