Champagne Kisses

by Amanda Brunker

  As the congregation stretched to see what the commotion was, Parker dipped his head in shame, leaving Maddie and myself also to look around in bewilderment, pretending we didn’t know who was taking the Lord’s name in vain.

  ‘What’s up with you?’ I whispered, furious that he’d given the relations more ammunition to attack us with.

  ‘I’ve shagged the priest,’ laughed Parker, all the while holding his nose trying to stop himself from snorting.

  ‘What?’

  ‘You heard me the first time … I shagged the bloody priest.’

  ‘Are you sure it was this old wrinkly?’ I asked, making sure Parker was right before I alerted a highly stressed Maddie to the fact. ‘Are you sure it was Father Neven or whatever he calls himself?’

  ‘Ha. Trust me, it was him,’ sniggered Parker. ‘His name on Gaydar is Neven Heaven ’69. We met at a café in Dun Laoghaire and after two skinny lattes we were back at his, getting jiggy with it.’

  ‘Fuck off.’

  ‘Excuse me, Miss Valentine, that sort of language is not acceptable in such places as this. We are in a house of worship.’

  ‘Listen, I can’t see much worshipping going on, can you? Ohmigod that’s so funny. Half the family look like they want to bash us. I’m surprised you didn’t explode into a big puff of smoke as you walked through the door.’

  ‘I was quite surprised myself.’

  ‘I’ll have to start calling you Eve from now on, you temptress.’

  ‘Actually, I quite like that. Grrrr. Fancy a bite of my apple?’

  I thought we had been keeping our conversation at low volume but the second I turned to inform Maddie of our news I found she was snarling at me.

  ‘Eh, is there any chance on keeping focused for like five minutes please? I can hear my mother complaining, saying I told you so in my ear. What’s so blinking funny?’

  ‘I’m sorry, hon, just forget it. We’ll behave.’ I tried to sound convincing but her face remained angry.

  ‘Tell me now so we can get it out of your system before the really important stuff kicks off.’

  ‘You’ll go mad. I don’t want you to go mad. Please just forget about it.’

  ‘Just tell me.’ Her face was turning a scary beetroot colour and totally overripe.

  ‘OK, OK, it’s no biggie really, it’s just Parker’s shagged the priest.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Calm down, I’m sure it was ages ago. It was just a one-off thing. I’m sure Neven Heaven ’69 won’t remember him.’

  ‘You’re kidding me?’ As Maddie’s jaw dropped, her sense of humour thankfully popped right back in.

  ‘That’s ma-ad. I won’t be able to look him in the eye now. God, what hope has my child got? I get a randy reverend to baptize him. I give him two nymphomaniacs as godparents, and as a further insult I stick on him a stupid name like Woody. You couldn’t write this stuff.’

  ‘I’d say we’ve got the makings of an infamous porn star on our hands.’

  ‘Yes, this is a very proud moment for me, Eva,’ explained Maddie, as she bounced Woody on her knee to pacify him. ‘I’ll be talking to the Biography Channel in years to come, and they’ll ask me when I first knew Woody would become the most successful porn artist of all time. And I’ll say it was his christening day. The day we wetted his head and all the sex addicts in the room prayed for him to continue their good work!’

  Despite some childish chuckling from the three of us, the saving of Woody’s soul went off without any further hitches. Jeff even managed to catch some of the event with the five minutes of battery time the video had left.

  By the time we gathered up our coats and made it outside, the clouds had dispersed and the smokers among us had set about making new ones.

  Trapped by Maddie’s overly excited grandparents, who were beaming with pride, we struggled to find adjectives to compliment the service.

  Parker got in early by saying what a lovely sermon it was. Maddie claimed that having the baptism ‘was extremely special to both Woody and me’. Which left smarty-pants here claiming, ‘Isn’t it nice to see a priest so in tune with his parishioners? I really felt he touched a part of all of us today. Parker, didn’t you feel touched by Father Neven?’

  Putting on his grown-up face Parker concurred. ‘Yes, I feel like I’ve been touched.’ Poor Jeff could only look on in confusion.

  This discussion was about to run out of legs when it was abruptly cut short by Granny Lord screaming, ‘Over here, Father!’

  With no time for escape his holiness had descended upon us and insisted on shaking hands with everyone. It was one of those sturdy firm handshakes which showed strength of character and was instantly endearing.

  Maddie and I held our breath as he grabbed Parker’s hand. Had he recognized him? Ohmigod, he had …

  ‘Oh, hello again,’ smiled the Father. ‘You’re the chap who has just become godfather to Woody, isn’t that right?’

  ‘Yes, Father,’ uttered a bewildered Parker.

  ‘Great stuff, wonderful name and a wonderful child. Yes, a great day for everyone.’

  ‘Indeed, Father, a great day.’ Parker was now almost hyperventilating with the fear that either Maddie or I would blurt something out, and was bulging his eyes in our direction.

  I was just about to make an excuse to head for the car when Neven Heaven ’69 had a twinge of recollection, and asked, ‘So have you been to my church before? I’m thinking you look very familiar, Parker.’

  Once again Maddie and I held our breath.

  ‘Em – mm,’ stuttered Parker, ‘No, I must just have one of those common faces. People think they know me all the time. I usually frequent the Glasmount parish.’

  ‘Really?’ Father Neven said, straining to figure out Parker’s familiarity. ‘I never forget a face.’

  The voice inside my head screamed: Maybe you might recognize his arse! but I bit my lip and signalled in the direction of the car to Maddie.

  Making excuses that she needed to get Woody out of the cold, Maddie told her grandmother how well she looked and asked if they were OK for getting back to her mum’s for some food and drinks.

  ‘Yes, yes, your grandad will get the car for me in a minute, but thank Father Neven again for his beautiful sermon.’

  ‘Sorry, thank you, Father Neven, for everything,’ Maddie smiled dutifully.

  ‘Not at all, it was a pleasure. I hope to see you back to the church soon. And call me Adam, it’s less stuffy …’

  ‘Jaysus, would you Adam and Eve it? I mean, what were the chances?’

  Back in the safety of the car, Jeff was brought up to speed about Parker’s dalliance, and being the easygoing guy that he is, took it very well.

  ‘Sure I ended up sitting behind some nutter I’d met in the George a few months back, he wouldn’t stop annoying me. You know, one of those blotchy drunks. Maddie, you’d know who he was. There was a man in a dark navy suit, pale pink shirt and badger grey hair, about mid-sixties. Do you know him?’

  Now it was the turn of Parker and myself to hold our breath. As Jeff spoke you could feel the tension build.

  Jeff looked worried. ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘Let’s just drop it,’ said Parker.

  ‘Why? Who’s that guy? I’m sorry if I offended anyone, I just thought we were sharing honesty moments.’

  ‘It’s fine, Jeff. That guy you were talking about has a drinking problem, and sometimes falls off the wagon. He also suffers with depression. But your sighting kinda answers a lot of questions we had about him and explains the reason for much of his torment,’ said Maddie quietly.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Well, Jeff, that man you’re talking about is my father …’

  10

  IT WAS NOW mid-December and Maddie was still refusing to leave the security of the apartment.

  Parker or myself bought any essentials, and the Tesco online service was her only other lifeline. The only fresh air she was getting was when she’d drive to the Phoeni
x Park to push Woody around in his buggy. ‘No one will spot me there,’ she confided, ‘Christ, I’m so out of shape. I look like Sharon Osbourne before the surgery.’

  Despite offerings of Spanx and pink wigs, Maddie declined all suggestions of camouflage and remained a constant feature in front of either the TV with Dr Phil or at the kitchen sink washing, preparing bottles or soaking soiled babygros and bibs.

  I’m still personally coming to terms with the sight of a yellow mustard poo substance dripping off one of our chopping boards, after Mammy Maddie dumped a pile of clothes there in a panic.

  While she claimed to be perfectly happy in her domesticity, and yes she looked pretty contented, my once vibrant and witty pal had cut herself off from the rest of her friends, and we were all starting to worry about her.

  Sure, babies were meant to change your perspective on life, but they weren’t meant to spell the end of it. Life as Maddie knew it had become an endless ritual of never-ending baby chores, which was something none of us could identify with or understand.

  Without complaint she would feed, burp, bath, dress, nap Woody, and then while he was restlessly dozing – which was when she was also supposed to be taking a break – she would do all of Woody’s laundry, make up his bottles and then just as she was sitting down for a cuppa, Woody would start to whinge from his crib, and the whole cycle would start again.

  She joked that we should call her ‘iRobot’, and said we didn’t need to be concerned for her mental state, because ‘mammies were programmed to cope’.

  I wasn’t convinced, though. She was due a meltdown, so I made it my number one priority to ease her back into socializing. But my master plan needed more planning. My efforts to coax her to go shopping in Dundrum failed miserably. She’d moan, ‘All the glamorous yummy mummies who had tummy-tucks with their Caesareans go there to while away their maternity leave. I don’t want to bump into any skinny women with younger babies than mine. It’s too depressing. I can handle being fat in my own shower, not frumpy in an H&M changing room.’

  Silenced by her rant I stocked up the fridge with low-fat dairy, and conveniently forgot to pick up her favourite treats such as Tayto cheese and onion crisps and Magnums whenever she requested them.

  I’d starve this bitch back to a social life if that’s what it would take.

  Because selfishly I really missed my friend, as she had always been my rock.

  I was about to give up hope of ever getting Maddie to rejoin the outside world when she agreed to let her mother babysit Woody, and join me for an early supper at Le Café. It had to be a Monday night though to keep it low key, and for no longer than two hours.

  Thankfully, since the release of two new publications on the market, work had started to flood in again, but I still missed the security of my regular gig at So Now. I shouldn’t complain though, my face was out there again for all the right reasons, and if the level of money I was earning continued, I’d soon be able to start to look for my own apartment.

  But for today my new-found wealth would be spent on treating Maddie.

  Happy days.

  All I’d need to do was ply her with some vino and before she knew it I’d have convinced her to have ‘A cheeky one’ round at the Haven.

  Before she had time to change her mind, I booked a table for two at eight o’clock, and requested a quiet table away from the window.

  When I headed off Monday lunchtime to interview some young girl band, who were being touted as ‘the next big thing’ by their publicist, Maddie was extremely positive about getting out and swore blind that she wouldn’t dream of cancelling on me.

  I was ecstatic. It was as if I had been cooped up for forty days and forty nights, starved of all social contact.

  With Lisa occupying herself with more home improvements in Austria, I was without a wingman. (She said she was skiing but we had our suspicions that she’d arrive home for Christmas sporting a sleeker nose or the ‘new sticky-out nipples’, which she had been coveting for some time now.) The party season was upon us, and I couldn’t face it without a girlie by my side.

  Speaking of all creatures feline, Parker had, believe it or not, taken to the gym in his spare time, instead of spending countless hours lounging around A-list hangouts drinking, posing and gossiping.

  ‘I’ve grown up,’ he boasted, all the while keeping a straight face and somehow believing the words he was speaking.

  Could this be true? Could Parker have finally changed his ways?

  The idea of dragging Maddie back to our nirvana after her maternity sabbatical made me giddy with excitement. She had always been the main show, and I was just her support act. Without her I was directionless. But tonight was the beginning of the end. It was the end of my ligging diet, which had resulted in too many dull nights in front of the telly because I’d no one to leave the apartment with, and almost total social starvation.

  Yes, tonight was the night. I was as excited and anxious as if I was going to sleep with a boyfriend for the first time.

  After I finished my interview with Death’s Dolls, the tragically unimpressive and moody girl ensemble, I arrived back late to the apartment to find Maddie had already left for her mother’s.

  Perfect. I had enough time for a quick shower, carefully avoiding the face so I didn’t have to start from scratch on my make-up.

  Although it was killing Maddie not to divulge her father’s secret hobby of hanging around gay bars, she thought it best that it came from him instead of her.

  He agreed, but then said he very rarely hung around gay men, and it wasn’t something he wanted to concern her mother with just yet.

  Struggling to deal with her own emotions, she’d let it go for the moment, leaving him with the stern warning that if she heard another story she wouldn’t be giving him a second lifeline.

  It was extremely tough for her to deal with, and I had caught her several nights crying into her pillow over him. Which was another excellent reason for me to get her out and about: to distract her from her fighting family.

  As I hurried out the door almost skipping with joy I left a quick Post-It on the fridge for Parker saying, ‘Don’t wait up. Maddie’s back in the saddle!!!!!’

  With five minutes to spare I arrived at Le Café and was seated as asked down the back of the restaurant by the manager, who was looking unusually attractive this evening. He was wearing the same all-black uniform, but must have done something with his hair, or not. He looked less groomed than normal, and had a five o’clock shadow that made him look quite sexy.

  For some bizarre reason, I always thought men looked hotter just out of bed, or out of the shower, or with a hangover. Women, on the other hand, definitely need more time to perfect the sexy look.

  Talking far too much like a nervous teenager, I had filled him in on the entire build-up to the night within minutes.

  Trying not to seem exhausted by my nervous energy, he gave me a generous smile and said he’d send over a glass of Pinot Grigio to settle me while I was waiting for the star of the evening.

  So far everything was perfect. Le Café was a happy medium; it was kinda buzzing, but there were no people sitting close enough to earwig on our conversation. Adding atmosphere, the tea lights softly twinkled on the table, which added to the dim nighttime lighting, and as I sipped on my vino I relaxed into my chair and dreamt of Christmas, and what Santa might bring me.

  In my head I requested a Ferrari, a winning Lotto ticket and a call from Vanity Fair to be their chief celebrity interviewer, but I settled on better luck. That’s all I really needed in life. I could make my own fortune with that.

  By 8.15 I had knocked back my first glass of wine, so I texted Maddie: ‘Get your skates on … I’ll be pissed if I don’t eat soon.’

  As I called the waiter to fetch me ‘Another one of your fine Pinot Grigios pretty please, and some bread, thanks’, a text beeped through from Maddie. ‘Don’t hate me,’ it read. ‘Woody’s broken out in a rash. En route to Crumlin with Mam.’


  Rash? How could Woody break out in a rash tonight? Of all nights? Not a blemish for weeks and this is when he chooses his moment, bloody typical …

  Thankfully my diva preciousness lasted for just a few moments. I needed to be grown-up here. My best friend would be in a panic and would need my support, not my tantrums.

  Snapping out of my selfish thoughts I rang Maddie to check if Woody’s condition was serious. What if there was something critically wrong with him?

  Worryingly, her phone rang out three times in succession. I daren’t leave a message.

  As soon as the waiter dropped the second glass of wine on my table, I took a massive gulp and thought of all the conditions Woody could have. Here I was complaining that Maddie had stood me up when there was a chance that her son could have scabies, or chickenpox, or worse still, meningitis!

  Shame on me. Had I cursed this pure child with my evil karma? Was it possible that I had passed on my bad luck, just because we shared the same living space? My mood was creeping into self-loathing when a text beeped through. It was Maddie. ‘Can’t talk now, waiting 2 see doc. Sorry 2 let U down :((((’

  I felt worse.

  There I was being a spoilt bitch when she was fretting about letting me down, while sitting in casualty holding her sick baby.

  I rang Parker for advice, but all I got was his voice mail.

  I rang Jeff, but he was busy too.

  I then rang Lisa and frustratingly got her pornographic voice message which purred something like, ‘Hey youuuu, its meeee, you know what to do to please me, so do the right thing after the ahhhhhhh … beep.’

  How could I possibly leave a serious message after that? She’d be no use to me anyway. I’d wager she was flat on her back under a surgeon’s scalpel, at the end of a ski slope, or indeed just under a surgeon or a skier!

  I still couldn’t ring my mother for advice as she was eternally sore with me over being such an embarrassment. Not to mention the fact that I’d have to listen to her usual rant of, ‘Three years of college … for what, freelance work? Mairead’s daughter down the road got an honest child-minding job straight out of school, and now she’s married five years to that rich widower.’