Backward! Daft! I’d a good mind to go in there and box him around the ears.
What was he expecting? An open-armed embrace? I didn’t want Jimmy to go, I wanted his father to think I could solve the problem, but despite my persuasion he was stubborn and determined. I expected more from you, Jimmy said. His father he could understand, but you, I thought you got it.
I do, I wanted to tell him, I do, but what more understanding can I have, given I married the man. I married a man and if you marry one, this is what you do. You organize the things that disturb him. I wanted to tell him to be careful if he marries a man. There are things to worry about when you marry someone.
Instead I just said nothing except: he is a nice fella, but you have to give me a warning about these things. A second lie, I had my reasons. He is a dull fella Jimmy and you can do better I should have told him.
I still had to get the pair of them to the two o’clock train without causing a riot in my hallway. Himself had absented himself to Balla to look at a trailer or some warble. Maybe it was up the legs of Red The Twit he was gone looking. I had my project, I’d things to manage here, I’d to get these two flumps out of the house before the man came home and got all hairy over them.
Jimmy, the divil roast him, was determined not to make this easy on me. He’d come to make a point and he wasn’t leaving ’til he’d stamped it on the inside of my wrist. I coulda told him then and there that I had seen him go places no young man should be going. I shoulda let rip at him, but I didn’t.
I knew the two of them were testing me to see how would I manage them. They both stared me in the eyes when we were in the room together, tracking my response. They provocatively put their hands on each other to get a rise out of me.
I was so accustomed to wandering into Jimmy’s room and never finding him there and doing a bit of dusting or looking through his things, for I am a fierce woman for a rummage in there, that I went for the door absentmindedly after lunch, and caught the naked foot. I should have called, alerted them with a hello there, very sorry, but didn’t. As I realized my mistake, I halted, my foot slid slowly so as not to make any sound on the lino, my eyes garnered a thin telescopic advantage and in at the pair of them I stared. It was my Jimmy in there and it was my right and duty to look at him. They held each other, nothing hectic, affection it was, not strong lusty passion though and Jimmy doing the holding, I was happy about that. The other fella’d no shirt on him, and Jimmy lifted up on his arm, and leaned across and kissed the man’s left nipple. He stretched so far and went for the left one. Why would he not go for the more natural angle, the right? I’ll tell you why. I’ll tell you why in a minute. OK I’ll tell you why now. He wasn’t the right man for Jimmy and Jimmy was letting him know and accidentally letting me know without knowing he was letting me know, if you know what I mean. He would have gone right, but his brain sent him left. I am superstitious about these things. I only ever sleep on the right side of the bed. I gave my husband everything on the left all over this house.
One thing impressed me about that watery fella was while Jimmy was at his nipple, the fella’s hand lifted over my Jimmy and landed on his rump, pulling him into him. It told me he wanted Jimmy, he would include him in his life and as he continued tugging, eventually Jimmy lifted his head up to him and they kissed a long time. I counted to 27 in my head, 27 seconds of a kiss, don’t ask me why I was stood there counting, then I withdrew. I sat on my closed lidded toilet, put my head into my hands and wondered whether Jimmy’s life would be ruined, if he sunk it in with this man. I was reassured by that kiss. If a man could kiss you for 27 seconds, it was unlikely he’d damage him, for I have never been kissed for twenty seven seconds in one kiss like that and I lasted 15 years of an engagement of letters and shuffling and the odd poke. Jimmy would go a long time on that kiss. As well for him it was.
After that visit, Jimmy sent an angry letter.
Only to me now. Nothing to his father. In the letter he told me I was a terrible parent. He did not say I was a terrible mother, only a terrible parent. It suggested plurality that I was only terrible when considered alongside my husband.
That evening I mentioned the contents of the letter to my husband.
—Would you be bothered if someone said you were a terrible parent?
—I would not. I would not at all, for I’ve given my children everything. He went on to say that it would bother him more if they had criticisms of how he was around the farm. With his family he was certain he had done his best. But he was not as interested in his children the way he was about the farm. Always something to do and always a need to experiment he’d remarked before turning off the light.
—If he’s studying in Dublin, why’s he here every weekend?
Because I never replied to the letter, Jimmy started coming home more often, which delighted me, but truly perplexed his father. I could see him ripening towards something unpleasant. If Jimmy was here, he was not.
Finally it wasn’t long and he said that was it. We, for he included me, would provide no more money for Jimmy to study. He had written and posted him a letter.
Jimmy said nothing of his father’s letter. I said nothing outright about the letter. I did say he wasn’t to worry that I was hatching alternatives. He shook his head and said no, he’d have to do it alone, he’d have to do it his own way and he wouldn’t take a penny of our money now. Jimmy stopped visiting the next months. He was busy he said making plans.
Come here to me would ya. He cut him off because of the cattle prices. He used the man visiting us, but the truth was he was sunk by the cattle prices. Once he wrote the letter, he sat more and more inside in the chair and ruminated on what had been lost. I had to wrestle the financial reins from him, he was sinking the lot of us. That was when I firmly sat on the horse plan. I’d heard the talk of it about how the EEC grant could be got off them.
Episode 8
—We need a horse, I said one night when Himself sat, like an odour, dour in the chair, staring into the fire. Everyone’s keepin’ a pony and a horse. We’ll have a grant off them. A bit of feed down. There’s nothin’ to it. Little work in them, only trim their hair. I’m going to find out. Talk to people, see how we get the grant.
—Very good, Himself, resigned. It’s up to you. He was heading out. This was unusual he hadn’t been heading out at night so much. He’d sat in worrying of late. He’d sat in worrying me.
I don’t think he heard me at all.
I don’t think he heard me say we’re getting a horse.
I could tell when he was worrying. He sat in the chair with a vacant look about him and his knees go slack when he thinks. Down the well thinkin’ it was. No use to anyone thinkin’. I made myself busy when he got this way and hoped the phone would ring, so he’d look up and ask who was that? He worried me much more quiet than ranting, you’d never know what he was thinkin’ when he was quiet.
Increasingly around that time he was more and more that way. Gone quiet. Gone thinking. Gone Gone.
Joanie said men who went that way, thinkin’ should be careful. They often kill themselves she said. I would phone her and say oh God he’s thinkin’. Tell him not to go thinkin’ that way she urged me, tell him it’s no good to anyone. I couldn’t tell her what I thought he was thinkin’. I couldn’t tell her what I was thinkin’. Well now Joanie I am thinkin’ of plunging my two hands into the same hot water. She would have had a Mass said for me. Even now I couldn’t say it to her.
Joanie said I wasn’t to worry about Himself if he headed out. If he sat in thinkin’ then I was to worry. Then I was to phone her. She’d call up and force him to have a conversation, that ’ud lift him outta the chair.
Bina said whatever happened I should trail him. Don’t let him outta your sight, she said. Whatever he’s up to you’ve to follow him and find out do ya hear? I told her about Red the Twit. I told her what she said.
—Well now, she said, I never heard a stronger case for following someone in me life. I’d
nearly follow him for you.
—Or I could do likewise, I said, without suggesting what likewise might be.
—You could, she said. You could indeed. I never heard a better case for doing likewise in all my life. I’d nearly do likewise meself.
—Have you ever done likewise? I asked her.
But she’d to up and go because she’d to get to Ballina and she’d to call into the Co-op and she might even need the vet to call out to that cow. That cow. She’s the eyes torn outta me head lookin’ at her, she said. Only I’ve no one else to be lookin’ at, I’d be demented.
She left, pulling the coat around her, urging me, that she’d never heard a better case of doing anything in her life.
I was not absolutely certain her anything was my anything.
But eventually later on when the time came and I told Bina what I’d done, she almost took a stroke.
Her anything was not my anything.
There came a moment when I gave up on my husband.
When I decided I was no longer married to him mentally and it was time to do my own thing.
I lost all hope when he told me he’d be home late and not to save any dinner for him. If I could no longer be certain he’d come in from the fields to my table, I had lost it all. There was nothing left for me to read.
Jimmy came home to us on a Sunday at 7pm. Out of nowhere he appeared at the gate in an estate car, with two, short haired young fellas, the boot filled to the hilt with boxes and belongings. The three carried Jimmy’s life back into my kitchen in twenty plus boxes as I stared on astonished, fussed and urged them to take tea and cake and dinner with us. They would hear nothing of it insisting they must return this night to Dublin. Jimmy entered his room and did not come out. He did not eat and gave us no explanation. I knocked and he allowed me leave him in a cup of tea, but nothing else.
When my husband came in from the fields, I indicated Jimmy’s bedroom door.
—He’s home, I said. But I don’t think he fathomed the information. He won’t eat, I said. Again I can’t say for certain that Himself heard me. Thus, the next morning, a tense breakfast awaited the three of us.
Stundered was my husband as the bedroom door drew in, and his adult son emerged in pajamas to demand breakfast.
—Is there tea in the pot mam? Jimmy airily.
I’ve never seen anything like the face on my husband, an awful sight, it was pain, that deep shock on his face like the years had wound irrevocably back on us.
Jimmy provocative: boldly announced his intention to unpack all his belongings and settle back in. Would I make porridge? A cheeky smile glinted from him in my direction. I looked at my plate mortified. What was Jimmy up to? He never ate porridge! He was dancing all over his father. God save me from the pair of them!
My husband took off to the fields, did not request his son join him, and left with a few options, I chose, in my foolproof predictability, to go in and help Jimmy unpack. He’d never find anything again if I didn’t. I attacked his clothes, folded his underpants, socks and vests, neatly stowing them, and commenting on the matter of some being worn out. I was shocked by the variety of knickers he’d acquired while away at college. Some looked pricey. Why would he need such pricy knicks? I imagined my husband’s face as he realizes he’s toiling away with the herd in the field, so his son could waste money on expensive, unnecessary underwear.
Alone with me, Jimmy was normal and cheery: I was delighted to have him home and snuck a few hugs from him. We exchanged a bit of gossip and speculated on the things he unpacked. He reflected on how and where he’d acquired some of the objects as he stowed them and whether he liked reading that particular book as he put it on the shelf. He assured me I’d love Thomas Hardy. By the time we were finished, his shelves were crowded. I wondered amid all this clutter how long he’d be staying? I didn’t ask. We’ll need to get you another shelf I offered instead as a hint. Honestly I hoped he was home forever, but if I said such a thing aloud Himself would take a broom to me.
—Is he still here? his father asked her the next day.
—Well of course he’s still here, she said.
The day after he asked.
—And when is he going back?
—You’d have to ask him that, she said knowing full well his pride would not allow it. It might indicate he took an interest in such matters and he was keen to maintain he does not.
By all appearances, Jimmy was neither going back, nor venturing outside the back door. He merely lounged around the house. They slipped into a comfortable routine where she planned the day around feeding him and making him comfortable. They talked about painting his room. They talked and talked and talked and it was wonderful like the years she missed of her son’s life were being replayed again for her. She was getting them all back. She concluded forcing him out of college wasn’t such a bad move after all.
Every few days Jimmy asked her for money and she obliged him out of the housekeeping money her husband assigned her. She’d tell him the prices have gone up and see would he give her more.
It was a week before they officially realize Jimmy has moved home.
—So he’s staying is he? her husband asked.
—I’ve no idea, she said.
—So he is staying then.
Several Fridays on.
—Is that fella still here? Her husband, asking – a mixture of bemused fear on his face and indignation in his voice.
—Last time I looked he was still here, her speaking flatly.
—What about it? Her husband, sounding defeated. If he’s not gone by Monday, I’ll put him to work. Her husband, in ideas, without taking his coat off. Between the fields and the front room. Back out the door.
Good luck, she thought, good luck in putting him to work.
On the Monday morning, in Himself stormed, lifted Jimmy’s quilt, ordered him out of bed and into a pair of Wellies and out the door to help with the farming.
—Fuck off! said Jimmy.
There was a lot of roaring, she put two tea towels either side of her ears to block the shouts of them.
The you can’t lie in your bed while we’re all out working, and the, you fucking pulled me out of college, if you don’t want me in bed, you shouldn’t a done it.
Jimmy said fuck a lot, she noticed. He musta learnt it in Dublin.
Then she heard her husband hurl that he is a waster, an idler.
It was enough, in she swept and ordered him to the kitchen.
—Would you not carry on so? You sound like a lunatic, a raging maniac. Sure he’s doing no one any harm.
—He’s fucking doing me harm is the harm he’s doing. Was gone, her husband, his words muddling before him, after him and around him.
Jimmy shouted that his father is a fucking wanker. Loudly.
—Stop would ya, Our Woman said.
And he does stop.
Immediately he stops.
Exactly how she raised him.
She’s proud.
She’s pleased.
That’s her boy.
Home again.
Her phrase not doing anyone any harm bothered her. She thinks of Patsy’s son.
Jimmy, still in his pyjamas, thanks her without thanking her with the following exclamation as he lifted the teapot.
—He’s a lunatic these days isn’t he?
Her reply, crisp and cutting: I don’t want to hear of you near Patsy’s son. Do you hear me now? He’s only a young fella. D’ya hear? —Don’t believe young makes him innocent, Jimmy says it matter of fact. I won’t go near him, but I can’t stop him coming to me. And he’ll come, surely he will.
—Well then that’s different, she says, but I don’t want you near him, if you follow me.
—I do, he says. I was never interested in him, he wouldn’t leave me alone, he was always following me about.
She smiles at her son, believing his every word. Sure who wouldn’t follow him about. But she has a headache thinking of the reason why he has come home
and how long is he staying and how will she keep the two of them from killing each other?
—Be careful what you wish for, she’ll tell her husband a few weeks later as she is pulling the switch on the lamp. Look at the mess you’ve put us in.
He’s seething, he’s silent. Jimmy has not moved an inch towards farming. Jimmy is in his room much of the day reading books or at the table taking tea or into Ballina with her on occasion. Her husband’s strangely quiet. She has no idea what he’s up to. But he’s cat like, an intention in mind, that’s impossible to read.
A constant boxing match between the two men evolves, that she’s forced to divert and referee. She establishes an excellent system of feeding the pair. As one is in the other is out and she structures their lives so they won’t meet each other more than twice a day. Her entire life revolves around keeping these two apart. Everything else has been suspended.
The girls in her gang are back visiting her again.
The girls are asking questions about Jimmy.
They want to know why he’s come back.
Jimmy knew exactly when he was going.
He stayed with us for nine whole weeks and never made mention of an intention to leave. Over two months! You can imagine what this did to my husband. Jimmy came home to torture him, it was as simple as that. His parting gift. He came for revenge and he got it. And I can’t say the man didn’t get what was coming to him. I, unfortunately, only got what was coming to me once he was gone. I hadn’t fathomed what I deserved ’til it descended on me and I am getting every millimeter of it as I tell you this story.
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