Pieces of My Heart

by Sinéad Moriarty

‘OK, but maybe you should have a bottle of water so you don’t pass out.’

  ‘To hell with water. Let’s do shots.’

  ‘Whatever you say.’

  We went to Mambo, a local club, and sat up at the bar. I ordered tequila – I hadn’t drunk it since I was in college and ended up with alcohol poisoning after consuming half a bottle at a twenty-first-birthday party. ‘To a successful year at Happy Dayz,’ I said, toasting Sally and knocking back the shot.

  ‘To parents with pots of money, no sense and spoilt kids,’ Sally said.

  ‘To my best friend. I hope you meet Mr Right or, if not, then I hope you meet lots of gorgeous Mr Wrongs to have fun with,’ I slurred.

  ‘I’ll drink to that.’ Sally laughed. ‘And here’s to Ali getting better and to Paul working less.’

  ‘Fat chance.’ I drank anyway.

  ‘Can I buy you ladies a drink?’ the barman asked. I peered at him. He wasn’t bad-looking. His deep tan was set off by a very white shirt, open to the navel to reveal a smooth, hairless chest. He had dark eyes and black hair with flecks of grey in it.

  ‘Yes, you most certainly can. What’s your name?’ I asked.

  ‘Carlos.’

  ‘I’m Ava and this is my friend, Sally.’ But Sally wasn’t paying attention because she was being chatted up by an English guy who had just arrived at the bar.

  ‘Ava is a beautiful name,’ Carlos told me.

  ‘Thank you. Your English is very good.’

  ‘That’s because ninety per cent of my customers are English.’

  ‘Do you like working here?’

  ‘I hope so – I own it.’

  ‘Oops, sorry, I didn’t realize.’

  ‘No problem. Now, what can I get for you, beautiful Ava?’

  ‘Surprise me!’ I giggled like a schoolgirl. This was fun – I was having fun. I was still young and attractive. To hell with everyone, I deserved to have a good night out.

  Carlos served me up some kind of cocktail that had smoke coming out of it. At this stage I would have drunk pond water. I knocked it back in three gulps.

  ‘Slowly, Ava, there is a lot of alcohol in there.’

  ‘I need it.’

  ‘You are sad?’

  ‘No, I’m demented.’

  ‘Your husband is a bad man?’

  ‘Not bad, neglectful. My father is a lunatic and my daughter won’t eat.’

  ‘You don’t have a daughter! With a body like this, I can’t believe it.’

  ‘Oh, Carlos, you’re good at this.’

  ‘You have very beautiful eyes.’

  I leant forward. ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes, they are like emeralds. And your mouth is like a rose.’

  ‘And is my hair like woven silk?’ I giggled.

  ‘Yes, and your breasts are like two perfect melons.’

  ‘And is my skin like satin?’

  ‘Exactamente!’ He took my hand and kissed the inside of my wrist. It was nice, and I felt all tingly.

  ‘Let’s dance, Carlos. I never dance any more. I used to love dancing. I was really good. My husband and I went to clubs all the time, but then we had kids and jobs and now we never go anywhere.’

  ‘Come on, mi amor, I will dance with you all night.’

  Carlos helped me down from the bar stool and led me onto the dance-floor, where I proceeded to shake, writhe and twirl like a mad person. Sally and her new friend, Fred, came to join us. Carlos went to talk to the DJ and suddenly a slow song came on. It was Céline Dion’s ‘My Heart Will Go On’, which Sally and I proceeded to sing along to, screeching at each other while Fred and Carlos tried to prise us away to dance.

  I found myself being swept around the dance-floor with Carlos pressed up against me, leaving me in no doubt that he wanted to have sex with me. Just in case I hadn’t felt the enormity of his hard-on, he whispered into my ear, ‘I want to make love to you all night long.’

  Suddenly all the twirling was making me feel a bit queasy and his aftershave was very pungent. ‘I just need to pop to the toilet,’ I said, tapping Sally on the shoulder as I passed her. She followed hot on my heels.

  ‘I think I’m going home with Carlos,’ I announced, splashing water on my face.

  ‘No, you’re not. You’re just having some fun and then you’re going to your own bed and your husband.’

  ‘Maybe I won’t,’ I said, flicking my hair. ‘Carlos said I’m the sexiest woman he’s ever met and he wants to make me scream with desire.’ I started laughing.

  ‘Fred’s a lot more eloquent.’ Sally giggled. ‘He said I’m the best bit of Irish totty he’s ever seen.’

  ‘Oh, God, Sally, what are we like?’

  ‘We’re two friends having a bit of fun.’

  We heard someone knocking on the door. ‘Ava, guapa, I am waiting for you,’ Carlos shouted.

  ‘Coming, just one second,’ I said, trying not to laugh. ‘What are we going to do?’ I slurred. ‘Maybe I should just go for it.’

  ‘No, no, no.’ Sally wagged an unsteady finger in my face. ‘Come on, I’m getting you out of temptation’s way.’ She grabbed my hand and pulled me towards the emergency door in the corner of the Ladies. We pushed it open, setting off a piercing alarm, and ran back to the hotel, laughing hysterically all the way.

  Paul was awake when I stumbled in. ‘Where the hell were you?’

  ‘Out having a good time.’

  ‘It’s six in the morning. I was worried.’

  ‘It was New Year’s bloody Eve. You’re supposed to go out and have a good time. We’ve never spent New Year together because of the pub and the one time I get you to come away you spend it in the hotel room on the phone.’

  ‘Johnny needed my advice,’ he snapped.

  ‘Did he? Or did you just need to feel you were in charge?’

  ‘There’s no point talking to you – you’re drunk.’

  ‘Gee, I wonder why. Maybe it was because my life is pretty stressful right now and I could do with some bloody support,’ I said, beginning to cry.

  ‘I know I messed up tonight, but I am here for you, Ava.’

  ‘It doesn’t feel like it. I need more help with Ali.’

  ‘Look, January’s always quiet in the pub. I’ll be around more, I promise.’

  There he goes again, I thought, fitting us in around the pub. I lay down on the bed and passed out.

  27

  We arrived home on 2 January. Ali and I had an appointment with Mary Boland, the psychologist, for Monday morning. It was a relief to know that I’d be getting Ali seen by more professionals. I needed all the help I could get.

  On the Sunday evening I phoned Sally to remind her that I’d be late into work the next day because I had to take Ali to the doctor. ‘OK,’ she croaked. ‘No problem.’

  ‘You sound exhausted. Were you out last night?’

  ‘I certainly was.’

  ‘I know that giggle, Sally Keene. Tell me everything.’

  Sally started talking and didn’t draw breath …

  Her friend Judy, having woken up on New Year’s Day feeling depressed at the thought of facing into yet another year alone, had decided to throw a post-New Year’s Eve party for all the single people she knew. You just had to turn up with one single heterosexual male you were not dating and a bottle of booze. Sally had no plans for Saturday so she bribed her friend Mark to go with her. He had recently been dumped and was feeling very angry.

  For the first hour or so everyone was very polite and made small-talk, while coyly eyeing up any talent in the room. But the drinks flowed and soon inhibition went out of the window. Unfortunately the alcohol fuelled Mark’s bitterness towards women and he ended up abusing some poor girl. Sally could hear him roaring, ‘You’re all the same. Bitches, the whole lot of you.’

  ‘Who brought that nutter?’ Judy asked. Sally shrugged her shoulders and denied any knowledge of Mark.

  She decided to hide behind the Christmas tree in case he saw her and came over. She was crouching d
own when she heard a noise. She was not alone in the hiding place. A very attractive man was huddled behind the other side of the tree, looking terrified.

  ‘Who are you hiding from?’ he asked.

  ‘That lunatic is the male friend I brought to the party. I’m disowning him,’ she whispered. ‘What about you?’

  ‘My ex-wife has just turned up and she has some serious anger issues. Maybe I should introduce her to your friend – they might hit it off.’

  ‘Or kill each other.’ Sally giggled. ‘Why is your wife so angry? Did you cheat on her?’

  ‘Why does everyone presume that men cheat on women?’

  ‘Because they do.’

  ‘OK, fair point, but in this case, she had an affair and when I left her and proceeded to move on with my life, she decided she wanted me back. Needless to say I told her to take a hike and she went doo-lally.’

  ‘What did she do?’

  ‘She set my car on fire.’

  ‘Were you in it?’

  ‘Are you joking? I’d be six feet under – she doused it in petrol.’

  ‘Wow. I kind of admire that.’

  ‘You do?’

  ‘It’s a very passionate thing to do.’

  ‘And psychotic.’

  ‘It’s fiery.’

  ‘And mad.’

  ‘Sizzling.’

  ‘And insane.’

  ‘Hot.’

  ‘So you’re good at synonyms. Can I kiss you now?’

  The last time someone had asked Sally if they could kiss her, she was sixteen years old at the local disco. There was something incredibly nice about being asked as opposed to being lunged at. ‘Shouldn’t we exchange names first?’ She smiled at her fellow fugitive.

  ‘Sorry, of course. Simon.’

  ‘Sally,’ she said, proffering a hand as he leant in and kissed her. Just as she was savouring the moment, she felt a sharp pain on the side of her head. ‘Ouch.’

  When she looked up, a very angry woman was wielding a wooden Santa Claus. She was smaller than Sally with shoulder-length black hair and a very straight fringe that gave her a French look. She was very pale, with a lot of dark eye-liner around her brown eyes and blood-red lipstick. The overall effect should have been sexy but she had overdone it and looked a bit like a vampire.

  ‘Get off my husband, you dirty slapper.’

  ‘Back off, Maura, we’re not married any more,’ Simon said, and made a grab for the Santa, but Maura was too quick for him. She belted him over the knuckles with it. ‘Ouch!’

  Then she lunged again at Sally, who panicked and gave the Christmas tree a big shove. It swayed briefly and fell down on top of the mad wife. All you could see were her shoes sticking out from under it, like the Wicked Witch of the East’s – Sally kept expecting the Munchkins to appear singing ‘Ding Dong The Witch Is Dead’.

  She couldn’t believe it. Why was she so unlucky? She had finally met a nice guy and now she’d gone and killed his wife in self-defence. How many years would the judge give her – ten? By the time she got out of prison she’d be fifty-three and would have no chance of meeting a man.

  A loud screeching woke her from her reverie. ‘Get this tree off me,’ roared Maura.

  ‘Run before she gets freed,’ whispered Simon. He grabbed Sally’s hand and sprinted out of the door.

  They stopped running at the corner of the road to catch their breath. ‘Do you think I did any permanent damage?’ Sally puffed.

  ‘God, I hope so,’ he said, and they started laughing.

  ‘Was she like that when you married her?’

  ‘Put it this way, my stag turned into a kind of intervention with my mates telling me to dump her. They all said I was making a huge mistake.’

  ‘And you ignored them.’

  ‘I thought she was feisty and spontaneous. I liked that.’

  ‘Feisty is different from certifiable.’

  ‘I know that now. I was brought up by very strict Quaker parents. Emotional outbursts were not encouraged. I found Maura fascinating.’

  ‘That’s one word for her. I’d say life was never dull.’

  ‘No, it was exhausting, and then she had the affair and I packed my bags and ran.’

  ‘How long were you married?’

  ‘Six years.’

  ‘Kids?’

  ‘Thankfully, no. We tried but it never happened. I’m glad now. Imagine having a mother like that.’

  ‘They’d never have been normal with her DNA.’

  ‘So …’

  ‘So …’

  ‘Can I invite you back to my place for coffee?’ Simon asked.

  ‘How about my apartment for sex?’

  ‘Direct. I like it.’

  ‘I’m forty-three. I don’t have time to be coy.’

  He pulled her close and kissed her. ‘Happy Newish Year.’

  She smiled. Maybe it actually would be.

  ‘Oh, my God, Sally, that’s fantastic.’ I was absolutely thrilled for her. She sounded really excited and happy. ‘So, what happened when you got back to your place?’

  ‘We ripped each other’s clothes off and had sex.’

  ‘Was it fantastic? Go on, make me jealous.’

  ‘Honestly? No. It was nice, it was comfortable, it was pleasant but it wasn’t fantastic. We had so much chemistry I thought it was going to be amazing, but it really wasn’t.’

  ‘Well, maybe it was drink or nerves or something. Don’t worry, it might be better the next time.’

  ‘I’m not worried because I haven’t told you the second part of the story yet …’

  That morning, when Sally was making coffee, Simon came in. He was even cuter in daylight – except for his hair, which was weird. Maybe it was just bed-head, she thought. He shuffled about uncomfortably. ‘Morning.’

  ‘Hey there, would you like some coffee?’

  ‘Great, thanks.’

  ‘So, how’d you sleep?’ Sally asked, trying to get the conversation going.

  ‘Not very well.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘Look, Sally, about last night –’

  Here we go, she thought. He’s going to tell me he had a nice time but he’s not ready for anything, he’s just come out of a marriage, he needs space, I’m a nice girl but this is not going anywhere, blah, blah, blah.

  ‘I don’t feel that I, uhm, well, that I was, uhm, up to scratch as it were.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘It’s just that, without blowing my own trumpet, I’m usually better than that and I just feel I’d like another chance to … I got stage fright or something and I don’t want you to think that last night is a true reflection of –’

  She leant in and kissed him. ‘Before you talk me to death, I think we should go back to bed.’

  Thankfully, this time it wasn’t gentle or nice. It was passionate and energetic, with banging headboards and even a little spanking. It was fantastic. As they lay wrapped around each other, panting from their exertions, they heard shouting outside.

  ‘WHORE! A WHORE LIVES IN THIS APARTMENT BLOCK. SALLY KEENE IS A PROSTITUTE.’

  Simon groaned. ‘I’m so sorry – it’s Maura.’

  ‘How the hell does she know where I live?’

  ‘She must have asked someone at the party.’

  ‘We have to get rid of her. I don’t want my neighbours hearing this.’

  ‘I’ll go and talk to her,’ he said, getting up.

  ‘No, I’ll deal with this,’ she said, pulling on her dressing-gown. She looked out the window. Simon’s ex was directly below, shouting her head off. Sally filled a bucket with cold water, opened the window and poured it on her head. ‘Now fuck off home, you psycho, or I’ll call the police.’

  She slammed the window and turned around to find Simon gaping at her.

  ‘What? You hardly thought I was going to invite her in for breakfast? She needed to cool down.’

  He came over and kissed her. ‘Maura may have met her match.’

  28

&nb
sp; Paul insisted on coming to the meeting with Mary Boland. He was still feeling guilty about New Year’s Eve and was trying to make it up to me.

  We arrived at the surgery with Ali, dressed in her usual baggy clothes, shivering. I was worried she’d caught some bug on the flight home.

  Mary Boland came out to greet us. She was an attractive woman; small, short dark hair, smartly dressed, in her late fifties. She had a confident, assured way about her and didn’t seem shocked by Ali’s appearance.

  We introduced ourselves and sat down.

  ‘Welcome, all of you. Now, from what Dr Garner has told me, Alison, you’ve not been eating lately and your periods have stopped. Is that right?’

  ‘No, I am eating now and I’ve put on weight, so I really don’t need to be here at all.’

  ‘All right. Well, let me be the judge of that. You look very pale. Are you feeling tired and a bit down in the dumps?’

  ‘No, honestly, I’m fine. My parents are just overreacting. I feel great.’ Despite her protestations, Ali began to cry. I handed her a tissue and rubbed her back.

  ‘I can see you’re very unhappy. A lovely young girl like you should be out playing sports and going to parties. I’m going to do everything I can to help you. So, let’s start by weighing you to see if you put on any weight over the holidays.’

  Ali stood up and walked over to the scales.

  ‘Take off your big jumper and empty your pockets, please,’ Mary said.

  ‘There’s nothing in my pockets.’

  ‘Can you show me?’

  Ali blushed. ‘There’s nothing to show.’

  ‘Alison, I need you to empty your pockets.’ Mary stood with her hands out.

  Ali slowly took out two large stones and placed them in Mary’s palms.

  ‘Oh, Jesus!’ I gasped.

  ‘What’s going on?’ Paul was confused.

  ‘Lots of patients try to hide their weight loss by filling their pockets with stones or wearing heavy jewellery or drinking litres of water before a weigh-in. I’ve seen all the tricks. All right, Alison, let’s see what you really weigh.’

  Ali reluctantly stood up on the scales.

  ‘Six stone three.’

  I stuffed my hand into my mouth to stop myself screaming.

  Paul gasped. ‘I thought she was seven stone when we went on holidays?’