by Tom Lennon
Ever since the midnight chat with his dad, Neil had submerged his darker moods and tried to make his mum laugh as often as possible. He had also reconciled himself to taking the job in the engineering firm, which he was due to start the following morning. With Jackie gone, domestic harmony was essential. It lessened the constant glare of parental attention somewhat.
Neil braced himself. Gay guy, twenty-two-ish, not-so-good-looking, own pad probably rat-infested, was approaching. Shifty-eyed and scruffy, he shuffled toward the chapel with his hands jammed into the pockets of his dirty combat jacket. Good-looking he was not, Neil decided, watching Mister Scruff draw closer. Another few paranoid glances over his shoulder followed before he slouched over to the steps and sat down about four or five feet away from Neil. Lucky he’s downwind, Neil thought, guessing that the heavy combat jacket did the guy’s armpits no favors.
“You Ian?” Mister Scruff hissed out of the side of his mouth.
“Sorry?” Neil was thinking quickly. This guy was definitely a psycho. And even if he wasn’t a psycho, sex was the name of the game, and sex with this guy was a no-no.
“Is your name Ian?” came another gruff hiss, his clandestine behavior reminding Neil of a drug pusher he had once seen in some TV detective series.
“No, why d’you ask?” Neil replied, changing his accent somewhat. Mister Scruff glanced at the newspaper on Neil’s lap, and then stared at Neil’s red baseball cap dubiously. His deep-set eyes were filled with anxiety and his hands were trembling. Neil smiled cheerfully, in the hope of appeasing the guy’s anxiety. But Mister Scruff mumbled something about mistaken identity before he stood up and slouched away aimlessly across the campus. Neil drew a deep breath before he headed off in the opposite direction. New tabloid headlines: Gay Meat Rack Stinks of Double-Cross! Archbishop Admonishes Double-Crossers! He was being a bastard, he knew, but it was for the best.
When he arrived at the pub, Bono and B.B. King were up on the screens and “When Love Comes to Town” was blaring from the video jukebox. This is getting to be a bit of a habit, lads, people are going to talk, Neil thought, before his eyes went on a white T-shirt seeking mission.
“Hello, stranger!”
Daphne. Neil shook his head slowly and sighed, conscious that heads were turning to look at him. He grinned affably as he joined Daphne, Dave, and Redser.
“Oh, you lucky boy!” Daphne exclaimed in his shrill voice.
“Jesus, who gave him the fresh batteries?” Neil sighed, bringing sighs of agreement from Redser and Dave.
“White T-shirt thinks you’re so cute!” Daphne continued, again loud enough for half the pub to hear. “He thinks you look so innocent, like a little lost waif.”
Neil laughed, but his heart was dancing and his face was reddening.
“And he says he loves the way you blush!” Daphne clasped his hands to Neil’s face, which turned a brighter shade of crimson.
“Well, you’re enough to make anyone blush,” Redser said.
“Be quiet, you, golden knickers,” Daphne retorted.
“At least I wear knickers,” Redser replied.
“Sticks and stones may break my bones, but whips and chains excite me,” came Daphne’s response.
Neil was scouring the pub for White T-shirt.
“He’s not here.” Daphne read his intentions. “You’ll have to wait until Saturday night.”
“I think you’ve got yourself a personal secretary,” Redser said.
“Shane,” Daphne announced, pointing at Neil.
“Huh?” Neil looked to Redser and Dave in puzzlement.
“The guy’s name,” Daphne explained.
“Shane what?”
“Oh, come on now, Neil dear, I didn’t get his life story.”
“It wasn’t for the want of trying,” Dave remarked.
“Be quiet, you, you silver-tongued rascal,” Daphne pouted.
Tiring of Daphne’s campiness, Neil glanced up at an overhead screen in time to get a close-up of B.B. King’s tonsils.
But I’ve seen love conquer
The great divide
The gritty vocals cast their spell on Neil, giving him that light-headed feeling of invincibility that rock music sometimes did.
Neil bought himself a pint and listened to Daphne giving an in-depth account of his latest one-night stand.
“I’d like to spank your bottom, he says,” Daphne told them. Redser and Dave exchanged amused looks. But Neil’s thoughts were elsewhere. He wondered what impression Shane was going to have of him after meeting Daphne. God love him, but Daphne wasn’t the sort of bloke you could introduce to your mother. Shane. He had never thought about the name before, but now it sounded like one of the sexiest names in the world. Even as sexy as Ian.
“And when we got back to his apartment,” Daphne shrieked, his eyes bulging comically, his hands gesticulating wildly, “what do I see lying in the middle of the big double bed, but a slipper!”
Neil smiled when Daphne clasped his hands to his mouth exactly the way Jackie often did.
“Oh my God, I nearly passed out!” Daphne gasped.
“Did he put you over his knee or not?” Redser was smiling.
“Well, the horny little devil suggested it, but I told him where to get off.”
“And we believe you!” Dave jeered.
“I should hope so, sister,” Daphne replied.
“Show us your red bum,” Redser said teasingly.
Daphne turned to Neil, and Neil noticed a slight hint of a blush behind that pale complexion. “Is that red-haired rogue a friend of yours?” he asked, cocking his thumb toward Redser.
“It’s a wonder he’s even able to sit down,” Redser remarked.
“Central heating,” Dave added.
“Bitches!” Daphne pouted.
“Oh my God, look!” Daphne shrieked, pointing up at one of the video screens. Every head turned to see Annie Lennox starting to sing “Every Time We Say Good-Bye.” All conversation hushed in reverence.
“George’s song,” Daphne whispered, and Neil noticed that Daphne’s eyes had begun to water ever so slightly. Out of politeness, Neil averted his eyes and listened to the hauntingly sad lyrics. He imagined himself singing the song to Ian. He’d be sitting at the piano in the living room at home and the moist-eyed Ian would be reclining delicately on the sofa.
When you’re near
There’s such an air of spring about it
I can hear a lark somewhere
Begin to sing about it.
“Oh, please don’t go, Neil,” Ian would plead, “I couldn’t live without you.”
“Sorry, Ian, you had your chance, got to go, there’s a new love in my life.”
Neil’s fantasy was interrupted by Uncle Sugar’s arrival. He gulped down the remainder of his pint and bade farewell to Daphne and the lads, using his early morning start as his excuse. Then he grabbed his jacket and made a hasty exit, pretending not to hear Sugar call his name.
Moonlight on the streets. Symbolic? Of course it is, you’re meeting Shane on Saturday! Better splash on the Paco Rabanne and spray those armpits. Keep singing, heart. How will I survive until then? A little skip to celebrate. Even the gloomy road looks romantic. Wait…Listen—those footsteps close behind you. Keep walking. Quick look around. Three shadows, getting closer. Run maybe? Legs feel too wobbly. “Faggot!” one of them hisses. Oh Jesus! “Fuckin’ queer!” Dizzy with fear now. Plead with them. Tell them you were in there with a friend, that you’re not gay. Jesus, help me. A thump in the ribs. A kick. Searing pain. Stumbling now. Another kick. Taste blood. On the ground. Cover your head. More kicks. Vicious ones. Losing consciousness. “Faggot! Queer!” Spewing hatred. Please stop. “Faggot! Fuckin’ queer!” Going to die. Oh Jesus, please don’t let me die!… Someone shouting…Sound of feet running away…A voice… Jesus? Is that you?… Jesus?…
“Oh sweet Jesus!”
It’s Uncle Sugar. Kneeling over you. He’s crying. Tears flooding down his cheeks. Blood
on his hands.
“Oh Jesus! Someone call an ambulance!”
Want to sleep now.
“Neil…Neil, can you hear me? Don’t go asleep.”
Too weak to stay awake…You hold me, Uncle Sugar… What you always wanted…Oh God, my head is burning… Cloudy now…“Mum, I did the dishes and cleaned my room. I’m going out to play now”…“Tell your mother that you love her”…“Don’t kiss me when my friends are looking”…“Go ’way out of that, Neiley Nook”…“Ah Mum, you’re tossing my hair now”…“Mind yourself out there”…“Bye, Mum.” Bless yourself with the holy water before you go…“I love you, Mum”…“And I love you too, little man…God bless…”
An ambulance siren. Faraway voices talking. Someone holding something over my mouth. My head is so hot. Someone holding my hand. Sugar? Lifting me now. Putting me into the ambulance. A sharp needle prick and up to the clouds I go…
Chapter Seven
Neil blinked a number of times before he opened his eyes fully. Bright sunlight streamed through the open window, and the sweet aroma of fresh flowers filled his nostrils. Then his mum’s and Jackie’s blurred faces appeared above him, and he realized that it was his mum who was holding his hand.
“Neil, can you hear us?” his mum whispered.
But the steel wiring on Neil’s jaw made speech impossible.
“Just blink once if you can hear us, Neil.” Jackie’s voice was a fusion of joy and anxiety.
Neil blinked, and his mother and his sister hugged each other. A nurse appeared at his bedside and busied herself adjusting the many drips that were attached to various part of Neil’s body. Three doctors rushed into the ward and amidst the flurry of activity his mum leaned forward and kissed Neil’s cheek softly.
“God bless you, love,” she whispered.
“Neil, you were in a coma for three days,” he heard Jackie say, while the nurse tried to usher her and his mum out of the room. Three days! Neil sighed to himself. On the third day, he rose again. How many hard-ons did he have? He had read somewhere that the average was seven a night. He imagined the gaggle of nurses gathered around his bed. One of them lifts the sheets. “Look at this one! Not bad. Pint of milk there at least.” All of them giggling. Three days! What had happened in his absence? But his thoughts were interrupted when a needle appeared above him. Before he fell asleep again, he noticed the huge collection of flowers and cards surrounding his bed.
Neil was sitting up, propped by a stack of pillows. From his new vantage point, he noticed that the little wisp of a nurse was smiling while Daphne made his presence felt in the ward.
“I hope this isn’t some sort of sexual contraption,” Daphne whispered, pointing to the snoozing elderly man sharing the semiprivate ward with Neil. The poor fellow had both his legs up in traction. The nurse had told them that he had fallen off a wall and broken both his legs.
“Tie me up, tie me down,” Dave said.
“Humpty Dumpty, the trapeze artist.” As always Daphne went one better, and the nurse was struggling to smother her laughter. But he was secretly relieved that Humpty Dumpty was asleep. Apart from Neil’s own embarrassment, a dose of Daphne would probably have set Humpty’s recovery back by a couple of months.
“I think that metal brace suits you…” Daphne was saying. “It’s you, Neil. It gives him that hunky Arnie Schwarzenegger look, doesn’t it?” He turned to Dave for backup. Dave nodded dutifully, a broad smile creasing his face.
“Before you leave here, Neil dear, you might ask that nice nurse over there if I could maybe take a loan of it,” Daphne added, feeling his jaw for size. “Just for the occasional night of passion.”
The nurse was laughing noiselessly; only the tremor of her shoulders gave her away.
“She might loan you her uniform as well,” Dave suggested.
Daphne pirouetted stylishly. “Would you, dear?”
The nurse, who was supposed to be preparing Neil’s medicine, went into convulsions, giggling uncontrollably. Neil’s own laughter made his entire body ache.
“I think virgin white would suit me, don’t you?”
But when Daphne turned to face the window, Neil noticed how drawn and haggard his face actually was. No wonder he always raced out of the pub as soon as the bright lights came on.
Just then, Gary,Trish,Tom, and Andrea sauntered into the ward, carrying gifts for the patient. Neil closed his eyes in anguish and braced himself. The nightmare scenario was upon him.
“A wig, a pair of stockings, suspenders, a little touch of eyeliner, and Bob’s your auntie,” Daphne added, arching his back and spreading his arms like a glorious swan. But Daphne noticed that Neil wasn’t laughing and he tracked Neil’s line of vision. All the theatricality drained from his stance when he spotted the incredulous stares of the new arrivals.
Without the assistance of their silent host, awkward introductions were performed between the two groups of friends. Daphne became uncharacteristically quiet, and this both pleased and annoyed Neil. Pleased because his subsequent embarrassing explanations were being minimized, but annoyed that Daphne should have to feel so inhibited. Gary stood there, mouth agape, looking Daphne up and down, and Neil could see that Daphne was pretending not to notice this sneering attention. Probably so used to resentment, Neil thought, picturing Daphne standing alone in a schoolyard, with a thousand Garys gathered in a circle around him, spitting at him and taunting him.
Daphne and Dave made their exit within minutes, and the others huddled around Neil while he grabbed a pencil and scratched a lie on an envelope. They’re friends of Jackie’s, he wrote.
“They’re friends of Jackie’s?” Trish read, holding Neil’s arm gently. Neil “Judas” Byrne nodded, and he could see the warm glows of relief. Their pal Neil wasn’t a weirdo after all.
“Backs to the wall, boys,” Gary joked with a laugh.
“Gary!” Trish slapped his arm.
“What a bender!” Gary gasped.
Neil noticed the nurse frowning as she left the ward. He also saw that Tom and Andrea weren’t amused by Gary’s comments. He tried his best to register a look of disdain on his battered face.
“Where did it happen, Neil?” Andrea asked.
Trish leaned over to read Neil’s scribbled reply. “Town?”
Neil nodded.
“Where in town?” Gary asked.
Again, Trish did the reading. “Near Trinity.”
“What were you doing in town?” Gary asked, and Neil forced a painful grin on to his face as he threw his eyes skyward.
“Don’t be so nosy, Gary,” Trish snapped.
“We should organize a posse,” Gary continued, “and go in and beat the crap out of the fuckers who did this.”
Neil smiled. Sometimes his well-meaning pal’s stupidity knew no limits. The others were quick to point out the impracticalities of the suggestion.
“Where’s your new watch?” Trish asked when she noticed that Neil was wearing his old one. They all expressed their disgust when Neil informed them that it had been smashed to pieces during the attack.
After this, his pals got on to more familiar territory. Who got off with who in Hollies the previous night… Neil tried to yawn but the jaw scaffolding prevented him. He was relieved when the nurse returned to announce the end of visiting hours.
The nurse had introduced herself as Mairead and she came from somewhere in Tipperary. Neil was becoming aware of the inordinate amount of time she spent by his bedside. On a couple of occasions he had woken during the night to find her watching him. At meal times, her eyes would melt as she patiently spooned the food into his mouth. It was obvious that the poor thing was falling in love. Years of wrangling out of similar situations had familiarized Neil with the signs, and he had developed a faultless early-warning radar for detecting any forms of feminine interest. But there was no running from this one. He just hoped she didn’t turn out to be a psycho. She told him that he was lucky to escape with five broken ribs, a broken jaw, a smashed nose, sever
e concussion, and extensive bruising, stating recent deaths in Dublin as testimony to this fact. She held up a mirror for him to witness the extent of his facial injuries. He looked like a mess: two puffy multicolored shiners, a bandaged nose, and something metallic propping up his jaw.
“It’s a miracle you didn’t lose any teeth,” Mairead said and Neil attempted a toothy grin.
“You’ll be back and as good-looking as ever in a few weeks,” she added, and Neil noticed a slight flush in her cheeks and a shy flicker of her hazel eyes. God, she was the type of girl he’d marry, he thought, if he were the marrying type. “D’you want the curtains drawn? Have you got enough pillows? Would you like me to read to you? D’you want more food? D’you want me to bring you in some of my tapes?” She was a little treasure, and he was only going to end up hurting her.
Neil had started to pray again since landing in hospital. Not conventional prayers, just talk to reestablish links. It was the least he could do, he decided, because he had definitely called on Jesus the night of the attack, and Jesus had responded in the shape of good old Uncle Sugar. Two outcasts that Jesus would never turn his back on.
Neil wasn’t sure if it was the effect of the drugs or not, but sometimes he was sure he experienced lucid moments of spirituality during these chats, just as he had felt during his younger, more innocent days. But no spiritual high could have compared with the sensation he experienced when Shane walked into the ward that Saturday evening. Kate and Dan and the two kids were in the ward, and Neil was sure that they could hear his heart thumping.
Oh Jesus, thanks for sending me an angel, he thought. He wanted to scream, he wanted to cry, he wanted to laugh, he wanted the whole world to celebrate this moment, but most of all, he wanted to hear Shane speak.
“Never seen you looking better,” he said to Neil, after Dan had got the introductions out of the way. Neil attempted a grin. Suddenly he had fallen in love with the Belfast accent. Dan started to quiz Shane, while Kate was busy trying to stop her two kids from charming candy off Humpty Dumpty.