I take it from him, although I realize at this point it doesn’t really matter whether I have the sketches or not, since he’s obviously seen them. I stand there wondering if Declan is going to make some sort of comment about them.
“I’m starving,” he announces, getting up from the couch. “Where’s the Thai food? I hope you remembered to get extra peanut sauce.”
He walks towards the kitchen and I follow behind him, discreetly putting the sketch pad on my living room book shelf. Once I’m in the kitchen I take down plates and start opening all the boxes of food, enjoying the spicy lemon grass aroma.
“I got something special for you,” I say with a little smile. “Check in the fridge.”
“Oh?”
He opens up the refrigerator and looks inside. When he turns towards me he’s holding the six pack of bottled Guinness with an amused expression. “Ah Kate, tell me you didn’t buy this for me?”
“I thought you liked Guinness.”
“Well, yeah, but not in a bottle. I can’t drink this.”
“What do you mean?” I dish out our food onto two plates giving us both a sample of everything. “I’m sure it’s perfectly good.”
“Bottled Guinness—you’re joking? This is what little children and pregnant ladies drink.”
I laugh. “Little children and pregnant ladies don’t drink beer!”
He gives me a look. “They do if they’re Irish.”
“Yeah, right.”
“Okay, maybe not, but seriously the only way to drink Guinness is on tap. It has to be poured.”
“Is it really that big of deal?”
He sighs heavily. “This is sad. How many times have I taken you with me to the pub and you still don’t understand the philosophy of the proper pint? Pouring the proper pint is an art. It’s like a Japanese tea ceremony. If it’s not done right then it’s not even worth drinking.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Japanese tea ceremony? Puh-lease. It’s just beer.”
“Just beer? Kate, I’m shocked at your ignorance.” He shakes his head as if I’ve said something blasphemous and puts the six pack back in the refrigerator.
We take our plates into the living room and sit down. I have a dining room table, but for some reason it never gets used. This might have something to do with the fact that it’s always covered with books, papers, and other miscellaneous junk. Declan takes the couch and I have a seat in my leopard chair. People always comment on it when they first visit my house, that and my dining room chandelier which I bought at Lowe’s. It was a boring brass color, so I spray painted it bright blue and then glued on all sorts of brightly colored fake gem stones. I’ve gone for a bit of retro artsy style through most of my house, except for the bedroom which I’ve purposefully kept simple and soothing with an Asian influence.
“This is pretty good,” he says digging into his food with a pair of chopsticks. “I didn’t realize you liked noodle dishes so much.”
“Yeah.” I decide not to say anything about why I got so many of them, not wanting to relive my earlier embarrassment. Luckily, each dish is fairly distinct.
When we’re finished eating Declan looks at me expectantly. “So, how do I pose for this painting? Shall I do something manly—flex some muscle?”
“Nope, not at all.” I smile and take a moment to study him. Even though it’s summer, it’s already starting to get dark outside. “Just stay there, but lean back and sit comfortably.”
I get up and walk around the room, turning on and off various lights. I’m not sure what I’m looking for—a feeling, I guess. A mood. I decide to leave all the lights off except the one on my book shelf and a tall standing lamp next to my leopard chair.
Declan watches me, but doesn’t say anything. Finally I grab a sketch pad that I bought recently and take a seat in the chair with the pad on my lap. The room is slightly darkened, but I can still see him clearly. Wordlessly I open up to a blank page and begin to sketch. One of the interesting things about drawing someone is that you get to stare at their face or body for as long as you want. You can study their eyes or their mouth, until you begin to notice details about them that are new. For instance Declan’s mouth curls up slightly at the corners—I’ve always noticed that, but I never noticed how his lips were so evenly shaped. He has full lips, but they aren’t in the least bit feminine. His mouth is generous, but decidedly masculine, and has a somewhat stubborn set to it. His eyes are such a striking color that even in the waning light I can still see they’re blue. He has strong cheekbones and a face that’s squared. He’s not completely bald, but he keeps his hair cut close, so the shape of his head is well defined.
Neither of us says anything while I continue to sketch. The only sounds are coming from the soft scratching of my pencil and the occasional city noises of cars and people outside. As I’m studying him, I begin to realize something unusual is happening and that he’s studying me too. I can feel his eyes on me, watching my every move. It makes me self-conscious for a while, but then I forget about it and become immersed in what I’m doing. As time passes and the room gets darker I want to turn on some more lights, but something holds me back. Finally I put my pencil down and rub my eyes.
“Kate,” Declan says speaking softly. “Who’s the guy in those drawings?”
Even though there are a lot of drawings of guys in my various sketch books, most of them friends, I know immediately who he’s referring to. I hesitate before I speak though.
“Ben. Those drawings are of Ben.”
He seems surprised, but then nods. “I should have guessed that. You guys were close huh?”
“We were at one time.”
“So who screwed it up—you or him?”
“He did.”
“Did he cheat on you?”
“No. He wanted to get married and when I said I wasn’t ready he broke it off.”
“Seriously? What an idiot.” Though Declan pronounces the word like idjit. “And this is the guy you were so nervous about seeing again?”
“I know, but it was ages ago. We were both really young and I don’t think either of us knew what we were doing.” I stop talking because I realize I’m making excuses for Ben’s behavior.
“How old were you?”
“Twenty-two.”
Declan smiles. “That’s not so young. One of my sisters got married when she was younger then that. A lot of girls I know got married younger than that.”
“Well, I notice you’re still single,” I say pointedly. “What are you implying? I made a mistake not marrying him?”
“No, not at all. You did the right thing. If he really loved you he would have waited. He probably wasn’t ready either and just used that as an excuse to get out of the relationship.”
I stare at Declan. This was an angle on the whole Ben thing I’d never even considered. “Do you really think so?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never met him. I’ve seen guys do some dumb things though.”
We’re both silent. “So why is it you’ve never gotten married?”
Declan repositions himself on the couch, lying down and tucking a small purple pillow behind his head. “Ah, now that’s a good question. Perhaps you and my mother could have a nice cup of tea and discuss it sometime. It is, in fact, her favorite topic of conversation. That along with when am I moving back home and why don’t I go to church.”
“Haven’t you ever wanted to marry someone?”
He stares at me for a long moment and then looks away. “I did consider it once. Years ago.”
“And?”
“It didn’t work out.”
I wait for him to continue, but he doesn’t say anything. “That’s it? You can’t just tell me it didn’t work out and not say anything else.”
He puts his hand up, rubbing his forehead. “You don’t want to hear all this. I was nineteen and a very different sort of person back then.”
“Tell me. I do want to hear. I’ve never heard you talk about yourself when you were younger
.”
“Because it’s not something I like to talk about. I ran with a rough crowd.” He pauses as if weighing whether to continue or not. “I spent most of my time drinking and fighting. People called us Boot Boys, which basically meant we were bullies. We used to break into people’s homes and vandalize them, steal things, not that I needed the money. It was only fun and games. If you want to know the real truth, I was a fecking arsehole and it’s a miracle I’m not dead or in jail.”
I stare at him unable to hide my shock. “I don’t believe it....” I try to imagine Declan as some kind of young hooligan and the strange thing is that I can picture it. He has this quality where even though he doesn’t seem violent, I’ll bet he could handle himself if he had to. He’s street smart.
“My friend Colin and I used to get pissed regularly and then find empty houses to break into where we’d take it upon ourselves to ‘redecorate’—that’s what we used to call it. We did a lot of shite like that and worse. Colin and I were best mates. We had each other’s backs, if you know what I mean. Anyway, there was this girl named Leanna that I fell in love with and when Colin found out it got ugly.”
“Why? Was he gay or something?”
Declan looks startled. “No.” He chuckles a bit and then bursts out laughing as if this is the funniest thing he’s ever heard. I’m sitting there watching him and even though I’m not sure what’s so funny I start laughing too. We go on like this for a while until Declan wipes his eyes. “I can’t believe you said that. No, Colin wasn’t gay. He was engaged to Leanna. She was his girl and I was having an affair with her.”
“You had an affair with your best friend’s fiancée? That’s awful. What about her, though? Why didn’t she break up with Colin if she wanted you?”
Declan considers this. “I don’t know. I thought about that for ages and in the end I think maybe she didn’t really love me. Or maybe she loved us both and couldn’t decide.”
“What happened to her?”
“She married Colin.”
“Really? I’m surprised he wanted her after that.”
“Sometimes I think he married her only to be sure I couldn’t have her. He went completely crazy when he found out about us. He tried to attack me and when that didn’t work he said he was going to turn me in for all the things we did. Someone started making anonymous phone calls to the authorities and that’s when my mom and Martin decided to send me off to Boston to live with my sister Rachel and her husband. I guess they were hoping a change of scenery would help me get my life together.”
“Who’s Martin?”
“My stepdad. My father died when I was a boy.”
“I never knew that! It must have been terrible for you.”
Declan nods slowly. “It was bad, but it was a long time ago. It’s not something I talk about.” He meets my eyes. “Ever.”
“Okay.” I’m silent, taking this in. “What about Colin and Leanna? Are they still together?”
“As far as I know. The last I heard they left Dublin. Colin inherited a house out near Cork and that’s where they live.”
I’m watching Declan, and even though he’s trying to act nonchalant, I can tell he’s not as laid back about it as he appears.
“Do you wish she’d chosen you?” I ask, wondering if maybe he still loves her even after all this time. Sort of like how I still have feelings for Ben.
“No, I wouldn’t have been good for anyone back then. I had a lot of things to sort out. I was a real mess.”
“But you still love her?”
Declan smiles at me, bringing his arm up and tucking it under his head. I can’t help but notice that he has a nice bicep. “Kate, what are you doing? Are you trying to psychoanalyze me?”
“I’m just curious. It seems like you have some unfinished business the way you’re talking about all this.”
“No, I don’t love Leanna anymore. That was nearly twenty years ago. I did love her at one time, and I admit I was hurt that she chose Colin over me, but after a while I didn’t care so much about that, but rather about the fact that I betrayed my best friend. It was an incredibly fecked up thing to do and if I could go back and change it I would, not to mention all the other things I did.”
“I can’t believe you used to be like that. You seem so different now.”
“When I moved to Boston I realized I’d made a mess of my life and needed to change, so I forced myself to grow up.” He softens his voice. “I haven’t told many people about this Kate. It’s a period from my past that I’m ashamed of.”
“I’m glad you told me.”
“I haven’t scared you away from me?”
I don’t answer him right away. Instead I put my sketch pad down and get up from the chair and go over to where he’s lying on the couch. For a moment I just stand there and then I sit down beside him. There isn’t much room so our hips are pressed tightly against each other.
“You haven’t scared me away.”
He nods slowly, meeting my gaze, and I notice that I feel strange, as if I’ve had a few drinks, though I haven’t had any alcohol at all. It occurs to me that I’m not even sure what I’m doing sitting here. Our eyes are still lingering on each other when he puts his hand up to my face.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, running his thumb over my chin and bottom lip. “I’ve always thought so.”
I don’t say anything—stunned by the compliment, plus his hand is having a peculiarly strong sexual effect on me and I feel like I can barely breathe.
“Come here.” He pulls me towards him. And I know what he wants. Our mouths meet and I can feel his breath, taste his lips, inhale his scent. I’ve never been this close to Declan before and all I can think is that it’s sublime. That’s the word that comes to mind, rolling around in my head. Sublime. Everything about him feels right to me, feels like home, and I have this spiraling sensation that I’m falling down into a place I’ve never been before, but have always wanted to go. At first he’s gentle, but then he kisses me hungrily, both of us giving in to it.
Without warning the telephone rings, shattering the erotic spell that’s been cast over us. I pull away from Declan and at first he doesn’t let me go, but keeps his hand tangled in my hair.
“Don’t answer it,” he says huskily.
“I should,” my voice comes out breathless, “it’s so late.”
I stand up and stumble towards the phone. I’ve always heard that expression about being drunk from a kiss, but I can honestly say I’ve never experienced it until now. I still feel disoriented when I pick up the receiver and mumble hello.
A guy starts talking. “Hi Kate, I know it’s late, but I took a chance that you might be awake. I remember that you were always something of a night owl. I hope that’s all right.”
I’m listening to the voice and it’s so familiar, yet I can’t quite place who it is. It’s like trying to remember the right combination to a lock.
“Kate, are you there? I hope you weren’t sleeping.”
“Ben?” I say, the lock tumblers falling into place.
“Yeah, sorry. You were asleep huh?”
“No, I was...no, I wasn’t sleeping.”
“I wanted to talk to you. It was really good to see you again today.”
“Yes...,” I say, listening to Ben tell me how he’s been thinking about me all day and how he decided to take a chance and call even though it’s after midnight. I feel a comfort in his words. It’s been so long, but emotionally it’s like I’m right back where I was all those years ago. And even though I know Ben once hurt me, the pull of his familiarity is strong. So many emotions long dormant are resurfacing.
From the corner of my eye I notice Declan has gotten up off the couch. He stands, watching me, and then he goes over to the door and grabs his gym bag. “Hang on a second,” I say to Ben and then cover the telephone receiver, walking over to Declan.
“I’m taking off,” he says.
I nod, trying to read the expression on his face, but
it’s impossible. It’s like he’s wearing a mask. “Okay,” I say, not really sure what else to do. Part of me wants him to stay, but the other part of me isn’t sure what I want or if I’m ready for what Declan is offering, because I know it would be a lot more than sex between us. “I’ll see you at work tomorrow.”
He looks at me, and for a moment I sense something slip beneath the façade, but then he nods and says he’ll see me tomorrow.
When the front door has closed I put the phone back up to my ear.
“Sorry about that,” I say.
“No, I’m sorry. I caught you at a bad time obviously. It sounds like you have company.” He’s trying to sound casual, but I know Ben so well that I can tell he’s bothered.
“Yeah, that was my friend Declan. I’m starting the sketches for that painting of him.”
There’s a pause. “Declan, huh? For some reason I thought your friend was a woman. Are you and this guy just friends or is there more to it? Not that it’s any of my business, but I thought you said that you weren’t involved with anyone.”
I feel a flash of annoyance at his tone of voice, but then I realize he wants to know whether I’m dating someone or not because he’s interested in me.
“We’re just friends,” I say. “We work together.”
“Oh, so you’re not involved?”
“No.”
“You must think I’m crazy to be calling you at midnight even though I just saw you this afternoon. Have I made a total ass out of myself here?
I laugh a little. “No, I’m usually up late, so people call me at all hours.”
“Yeah? You’re still the same then. I used to wonder when you slept. We’d be up all night and then you’d head off to work the next morning. Do you remember those days?”
“I do.”
We’re silent and I know we’re both thinking the same thing—it wasn’t so much the days that were memorable, but all those nights spent in each other’s arms.
“It helped that I had access to an endless supply of espresso,” I joke.
“I was just up at Cafe Nin and I thought of you. That place is exactly the same and hasn’t changed at all. It felt like I’d stepped into a time warp.”
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