Surviving Michael

by Birchall, Joseph

  Danny

  DURING MY CAR racing days with my dad, the only way that I could survive the constant onslaught of race after race, failure after failure, was going into a sort of emotional shutdown. Physically I would go through the motions, but inside I ceased to exist. It was like I was observing my actions as a spectator, uninvolved and unattached, with the world around me just spinning by. It was the only way I would be able to endure the hours and hours at the race track.

  Since I... since Ricky... since that thing, I feel buried inside myself again. Only deeper this time. Much deeper. Like I’m in a coma, and I feel that if I were to step out of the security of that cocoon, my head would explode. As Nick drives, I can see and hear the world around me; the sound of the tyres gliding along the road, the hum of the engine, the cars, the people, the buildings all going by, but it’s as if they are all moving away from me, and I am dormant. Silently watching the world. A spectator of my own life as if it has nothing to do with me.

  Where is Ruby now? One moment I want to tear the world apart to be by her side, the next I want the world to see me tear her apart. I am so lost without her. To think of my recent life. Calling over to her at the weekend. Stopping off to buy her favourite Chinese takeaway. Eating together on her sofa. Watching the perfection of her face as she ate; her lips, her nose, her eyes. Knowing that she loved me. Knowing that I loved her. It was the summit of my life and I never even enjoyed the view. Being with her was not the most important part of me, being with her defined me.

  But there’s no way back now. There’s no road that leads back to then.

  What use for all my self-help books now? My visualisations? My affirmations? What bullshit. Focusing my thoughts on a better world in a future somewhere in front of me, and all the time a freight train of terror charging down on me from the side. I’ve been cheated.

  Where are you, Ruby? How can I find you? How can I get you back? How can I make us work again?

  I can be the man that you want me to be. I can be the father that you want me to be. I’m so sorry. So very sorry.

  Liam

  ‘OKAY, LISTEN,’ Nick says, ‘let’s talk about this for a minute.’

  We’re parked outside the Limekiln Post Office. It’s just after 10:30am.

  ‘The van is goin’ to come in and park behind us,’ he continues.

  ‘How do we know that for sure?’ I ask.

  ‘Because you fuckin’ told us it would,’ he screams at me. ‘Don’t be a bollocks, Liam. I’m not in the mood for any of your half-brained questions you spew out whenever there’s anythin’ other than the simplest of actions to be considered.’

  ‘I know it’s goin’ to come in here,’ I say, ‘but how do you know it’s goin’ to park behind us?’

  ‘Because it’s bringin’ in money to the post office. Where else do you think it’s goin’ to park? Outside the fuckin’ butcher’s shop?’

  ‘Jesus, take it easy, Nick,’ I say. ‘Okay then, what next?’

  He takes a deep breath. ‘Then I’ll reverse up as close to the front of the van as I can. There’ll be two postmen, right?’

  ‘Right,’ I say. ‘Well, a postman and a driver.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘The drivers don’t like to be called postmen. They’re called drivers. It’s a union thing.’

  ‘You can call them fuckin’ astronauts if you want,’ he says, startin’ to raise his voice again. ‘There’ll be two men in the van, okay?’

  ‘Yes,’ I say. ‘Unless they’re women.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ he says.

  ‘They might be postwomen.’

  Nick takes a very deep breath in and out.

  ‘Just carry on, Nick,’ Charlie says.

  ‘Okay. When the postman, or woman, gets out and unlocks the side door or back door of the van to get the money, you two,’ he points at me and Charlie, ‘jump out. Liam, you go to the postman… you go to the driver.’

  ‘And do what?’

  ‘Ask him if he’s almost finished his shift. I don’t know, do I? Threaten him. Do you not watch any movies other than porn? Pretend you have a gun. “Get down”, “Don’t move”, that sort of thing. And meantime, Charlie, you grab the other guy and grab as much money as you can.’

  ‘How am I supposed to carry it?’ Charlie asks.

  We all think about this. Then I see a black sports bag in the back.

  ‘Perfect,’ Nick says when I put it on my lap. I get the feelin’ that I’m after impressin’ the teacher with somethin’. I rummage around in the bag and pull out a T-shirt and a pair of tracksuit bottoms. Charlie grabs the T-shirt.

  ‘Should we wear masks?’ he asks.

  ‘Good idea,’ Nick says. ‘It doesn’t matter if they know it’s us, but it’ll add to the effect anyway.’

  Charlie ties the shirt around his face, leaving only his eyes exposed. I have another look around in the bag but apart from the tracksuit bottoms, there’s only an empty bottle of shower gel in it. Charlie’s mask looks cool. Fucker. I found it, I should be the one wearin’ it.

  We sit there waitin’ without anyone sayin’ anythin’ for a while. After about ten minutes, I’m absolutely dying for a piss. I was never able to hold it for long, even when I was kid. Once I need to go, then I have to go.

  ‘Lads, I’ll be back in a minute,’ I say.

  Charlie and Nick freak out. ‘What the fuck are you talkin’ about?’ ‘Where are you goin’?’

  ‘I’m burstin’,’ I tell them.

  ‘You have to wait,’ Nick says.

  ‘What if the van comes?’ Charlie says.

  ‘I would have been back by now, if I’d just gone,’ I tell them. Eventually, I realise that I’m goin’ to piss in me pants, and I open the door and run to the cafe beside the post office. I can imagine Charlie and Nick going ape shit at me but I don’t care ’cause the relief is worth it. On me way out I’m tempted to buy a few pastries but decide against it.

  Charlie and Nick don’t say anythin’ to me when I get back in, and we sit and wait for another ten minutes. Nick switches the radio on and off a couple of times. Charlie keeps lookin’ out the back window.

  ‘Are you sure they said Monday?’ Nick asks.

  ‘Yeah,’ I say, ‘Mondays and Thursdays.’

  ‘Wait a sec,’ Charlie says. ‘What day is it today?’

  We all sit there and try to figure out what day it is. My mind’s a complete blank.

  ‘Here it is,’ Nick says and turns back around quickly in his seat. I get very nervous, and me and Charlie sit up straight. Charlie ties the shirt around his face and grabs the door handle. I have no choice but to shove the track suit bottoms over me head and tie one of the legs around me face.

  ‘Okay,’ Nick says, ‘it’s pullin’ up. I’m goin’ to try and reverse back to them when they stop. Get ready to jump.’

  ‘Hold on, wait,’ Charlie mumbles through the T-shirt. ‘Are the cops there?’

  Nick looks over his shoulder and down the road. ‘I can’t see them. We’re all clear,’ he says. ‘Okay, the van’s pullin’ up behind us.’

  He reverses our car back slowly. Me heart is pounding like mad.

  ‘Ready,’ he says. Me and Charlie both tense our bodies as if we’re about to jump out of a plane.

  ‘Steady.’

  I glance behind and see the driver pick up his newspaper and the postman open his door.

  ‘Go.’

  I throw open me door and jump out, but the other trouser leg of the tracksuit bottoms catches on the hook above the door and reefs me head backwards like a dog’s neck on a leash, and I go sprawlin’ onto the ground. I jump straight back up, release the trouser leg from the hook and tie the other leg back around me face.

  I run over to the driver, a little dazed from me fall. I must look like a huge one eared rabbit. The driver doesn’t see me yet but I’m so distracted from me fall, I only then notice that Charlie hasn’t even got out of the bleedin’ car yet.

  I can hear him screaming,
‘the door, the door, open the fuckin’ door.’

  Nick is runnin’ around to him and I can hear him yellin’ somethin’ about a child’s lock on the door. He gets the door open just as I reach the driver. He has the window up, and the radio on, and he’s readin’ the paper so I have to knock on the glass to get his attention. He looks at me silently for a while and it’s only when Charlie pushes the postman back into the van at the side door that the driver realises what’s goin’ on.

  He winds the window down, and I point me finger that’s under me T-shirt at him. ‘Stick ’em up,’ I tell him.

  ‘Fill the bag, quick,’ Charlie yells at the postman. He starts puttin’ all the cloth bags of money into the sports bag and Charlie helps him, but when the bag is full and Charlie tries to lift it, he can’t.

  ‘Fuck,’ he yells, but then lookin’ into the sports bag he realises what the problem is and then takes out all of the bags with the coins in them. I look over at Nick and he’s lookin’ in the mirror all the time. When I look back at Charlie he’s not there and then I see him runnin’ to the SUV.

  ‘Keep down,’ I shout at the driver, although I’m not sure what that’s supposed to mean.

  Before I’ve even closed the door of our jeep, Nick takes off and heads for the car park exit. He turns right and then charges down Limekiln Road. We’re all breathin’ heavily as we’ve been sprintin’ and nobody says anythin’. The road has a load of speed bumps and we bump up and down over them.

  Nick turns around to us. ‘Well, that didn’t go too bad,’ he says.

  ‘Not too shabby for our first go,’ Charlie says, laughin’.

  I take the tracksuit bottoms off me head. ‘Let’s see it,’ I say to Charlie. Charlie opens the bag for me to see, and I take out one of the cloth bags. It’s packed full of notes that I can feel through the cloth.

  ‘Holy shit,’ is all I can say. ‘There must be hundreds of thousands here.’

  ‘Let me have one of them,’ Nick says and stretches his arm back to take one. Nick places one in his hand, but he quickly drops it, turns back around quickly to the steerin’ wheel and slams down on the accelerator.

  I look out the back window. Fuck.

  Tom

  BEFORE I EVEN joined the Gardaí, fifteen years ago, I knew there was nothing else I wanted to be. My only ever dream was to stand beside that flashing blue light knowing that behind me stood the power of the whole fucking State.

  Even when we played cops and robbers as lads, I always insisted on being a cop. In cowboys and Indians, I was always a cowboy. In school when I was in charge of monitoring the halls, I once told on my big sister, and she got detention. She beat the shit out of me later, but she still did her detention.

  ‘An Americano and a cappuccino, please.’

  Jesus, these Polish birds are gorgeous. I’ve only managed to ride a couple of them, which is unusual considering how… what’s the word… ubiquitous, yeah… how ubiquitous they are.

  ‘And give me one chocolate muffin as well, darling,’ She gives me half a dirty look, because I called her darling or because I still have my shades on. Who knows? But she knows better than to say anything.

  As I’m putting in my five sugars, a guy beside me dressed in a nice suit and reeking of aftershave, makes a few grunts of impatience, so I stir my plastic teaspoon slower, not even looking at him, until he eventually leans right across me and grabs the milk.

  ‘Excuse me,’ he says in an irritable tone.

  Impatient fucker.

  I lean over the counter to get a napkin and let my shirt slide up to show him the bottom of my sidearm. I notice that he spots it, stops stirring his cup and takes a step back. It’s an unconscious step, but it says a lot.

  I get my two coffees and make a big deal about walking around him.

  ‘Excuse me, buddy,’ I say, all cheerful like, and he moves out of my way, looking at me as I pass him.

  Who’s the big man now in his nice suit?

  Prick.

  Outside, I can’t see Gerry anywhere. Where the fuck is he? I can’t call him ‘cause I have a coffee in each hand, and a small paper bag with my muffin in it under my arm. He flashes his lights at me from a parking spot and drives up to me.

  Fucking hell.

  I awkwardly get in balancing the two coffees.

  ‘Gerry, why the fuck can’t you just wait outside for me?’

  ‘It’s a clearway,’ he says as he drives off.

  ‘Then park in one of the handicapped zones. We’re on official business, Gerry. You can park anywhere you fucking like.’

  Fucking hell. Gerry’s a top man when the pressure’s on, but the rest of the time he’s no craic at all.

  ‘We had better catch up with the van,’ Gerry says.

  Christ, there aren’t any cup holders in this piece of shit. If I could get my hands on the scumbag who stole my Mondeo yesterday, I would beg to be given five minutes alone with him. Anyone who can’t respect private property can’t be expected to be respected themselves. Pure bastards.

  Gerry accelerates too quickly, and I almost spill my coffee.

  ‘For fuck sake, Gerry,’ I say.

  I’m going to knock these overtime shifts on the head. It used to be a handy few quid following the An Post van around, but it’s just a pain in the hole now. The worse part about it is I’m only doing it to pay that cunt her alimony so she can sit on her fat arse all day and mind the kids.

  How did I go so wrong with her? Was she always a cunt or did she slowly turn into one over the years? And if she was always one, then what does that say about me?

  I rarely even see the kids anyway. What with shift work and all that, it’s very hard to pin down an exact time I’ll be free. She doesn’t understand that. In fairness, there’s a lot going on in this world that she doesn’t understand.

  She left me because she said I was cheating on her with one of her friends, which is an absolute lie. Well, I was cheating on her, but it wasn’t with who she said it was. If the truth be known, I actually slept with her cousin on the night we got married. It wasn’t my proudest of moments I have to admit, but I did give the whole marriage thing my best shot. When her cousin told me she was pregnant I thought that’d be it. But I gave her a few bob to keep it quiet and to help her out with the kid. I was relieved when she fobbed it off as her husband’s, the poor bastard.

  In hindsight though, I should have just put my hand up at the time, as I wouldn’t have had to listen to years of the cunt going on at home about not working so many hours or spending some time with the family and all that bullshit.

  I’m still paying her cousin though. Four hundred fucking euros a month. When the cunt found out after looking through one of my bank statements, the nosy bitch, I told her it was an old gambling debt I had to pay off. I’ve been tempted to tell her the truth a few times, just to stick the knife in, but I’m waiting till after the divorce has gone through. Then I will take enormous satisfaction in...

  ‘What the fuck,’ I yell, as Gerry floors the accelerator, and I almost spill the coffee.

  I see the two An Post men waving and shouting at us as an SUV charges down Limekiln road. We hit another speed bump and the lid comes off my Americano and spills onto my hand.

  ‘Ah, Jesus, fuck,’ I yell and I drop the cup. I throw Gerry’s coffee out the window and reach for my sidearm.

  Gerry, as always in these situations, as cool as a cucumber says, ‘Don’t even think about it.’

  I take my hand off it, and flick on the siren and the beacon.

  Then I take out my Taser gun. I only got trained on it a few weeks ago, and I’ve been dying to give it a go.

  This could be my lucky fucking day after all.

  Nick

  I JUST ABOUT manage to grab the steering wheel with both hands when we hit the first speed bump. We all jump out of our seats, including Danny. Liam’s head whacks off the roof, and he lets out a loud ‘Fuck.’ The bag holding the money goes up into the air, and the cloth bags go all ove
r the place.

  The unmarked Garda car that’s charging after us is pounding up and down over the speed bumps like a speedboat rising and falling over a series of waves. I can see in my mirror that every time the car lands on the far side of a speed bump, a shower of sparks lights up under their car.

  I’m trying to concentrate on the road ahead, but I can’t take my eyes off their car either.

  We hit the last speed bump and race on, but I hear the siren from their car pierce the air. The sound seems even closer than they are, and for a second I even feel like giving up. For the last thirty seconds inside the SUV, it felt as if we’d been in a canoe and going white water rafting.

  I can see the traffic lights ahead, but still keep one eye on the cop car. My heart sinks as they hit the last speed bump.

  Even with the siren wailing, we all hear the metallic clang, and I see the sparks shoot up into the air. The Garda car has come to a sudden stop, its bonnet lying on the road. The two detectives inside, with expressions of shock more than anger, watch their two front wheels and axle continue the chase. Crashing into a parked car, it too comes to a sudden stop with a bang.

  Our delight is immense.

  ‘Yes, yes, yes,’ Liam keeps saying as we turn the final bend before reaching Wellington Road.

  I press my foot down harder and feel the SUV shifting down a gear and accelerating. The menacing flashing blue lights disappear from my mirrors, and the siren gradually lowers like a bad song coming to an end.

  I drive for a couple of minutes just to get out of the area and then pull into a lane and park.

  ‘Okay,’ I say, ‘time for another change of vehicle.’

  None of us has a clue how to actually steal a car, so we all walk out on to the main street to find a taxi. Charlie keeps the bag with him as we wait.

  Talk about a bunch of amateurs.

  ‘Too many taxis in Dublin my fucking arse,’ Liam says as we search up and down the road for a taxi sign.