by Caragh Bell
‘Speaking of girlfriends?’
‘Well, there’s this girl called Jess ...’
‘Of course there is.’
‘We hang out but nothing too serious.’ He paused. ‘But she’s nothing like this other girl, Lydia. Oh, Mom, you’d love her. She’s really something.’
‘I haven’t heard you sound this happy since we let you go on that trip to LA last fall.’
‘I am. Happy, I mean. Ireland is cool.’
‘I have a small bit of news, Luca.’
‘News? What news?’
‘Well, your dad and me, we’re kind of sorting things out. Um, what I want to say is that we’re going to give it another try.’
‘Are you serious?’
‘Yes, I am. Are you okay with that?’
‘You know how I feel about him.’
‘Luca, he is still your father.’
‘He treated you badly, Mom.’
‘We were both to blame. Honey, you know that.’
‘Even so.’
‘Look, take time to think this over. I really want your support on this.’
‘Okay. Look, I have to go.’
‘Mimi mentioned that she might visit you.’
‘That’s nice. I have to go.’
‘Luca!’
‘Mom, it’s cool. Seriously. I really have to go.’
‘Okay, I love you.’
‘Bye.’
Luca stared at the phone. What the hell was she thinking? Once a cheater, always a cheater. He threw the phone at the wall in frustration. It banged against the concrete and slid to the floor.
Why was she doing this? He had just gotten used to having separate relationships with them. He thought of his father. His tall, handsome, distinguished father with his slightly greying hair and expensive suits.
Then he thought of his mother with her wild beauty and lively spirit. They just didn’t mix – surely she could see that!
He leaned down and picked up his phone. Shaking it, he was relieved to see that it worked. Glancing at the time he saw that it was eight o’clock. Jessica was probably waiting for her booty call. He shook his head. There was no way he could deal with that now. His thoughts strayed to Lydia. She would understand. She was so easy to talk to. The things she said actually made sense and were interesting. He could call her ...
Luca scowled. She would probably blow him off. Still, he could try.
He found her number and began his message. Frowning, he deleted it again. He didn’t want to be rejected.
Pacing the room, he debated on what to do. Never in his life had he felt like this. Girls were never anything to be nervous about. Taking a deep breath, he decided to call her. Speak to her directly. That way she would find it harder to say no.
His heart pounded as the phone rang.
Come on, Lyd, answer, he pleaded silently.
She answered on the eighth ring. ‘Hello?’
‘Lydia, it’s Luca.’
‘Oh.’
‘Um, I was wondering if I could call over or, um, meet you for a coffee or something?’
‘I don’t know ...’
‘Please, Lyd. Mom just called – she’s getting back together with my father – I need someone to talk to.’
‘Okay. Call over.’
‘Thanks.’
‘See you soon.’
Lydia had a guarded expression when she opened the door.
‘Are you okay?’ she asked.
‘I’m fine. Can I come in?’ He brandished a bottle of wine.
Lydia nodded and opened the door wider to let him in.
He looked around her flat curiously.
‘This place is exactly how I imagined it would be,’ he exclaimed, staring at the tasteful pictures on the walls and the bookcases filled to capacity.
Lydia laughed. ‘That’s so kind. It’s a dump – you can say it.’
Luca shook his head vehemently. ‘No, I mean, it’s not. I love it.’
She busied herself opening the wine and Luca sat down on the sofa.
The TV was on.
‘What’s that you’re watching?’ he enquired.
‘Nothing really. Flick if you want.’
‘No, it’s cool.’
She ambled over to the sitting-room area and settled herself on the armchair. ‘So, what’s going on?’
‘Mom wants to get back with Papa. What I mean is, she’s already doing that.’ His expression was dark.
‘And that’s bad because?’ she prompted.
‘He’s a bastard. He has treated her like dirt her whole life.’
‘Luca,’ Lydia said softly, ‘he’s still your dad.’
He stopped and looked at her. ‘I guess you’re right.’
‘They are adults – they deserve a chance at happiness.’
‘Yeah, but who says he won’t cheat on her again?’
‘Who knows? Love is never easy, there are loads of complications. That’s life.’ She paused to sip her wine. ‘You need to let go.’
‘I guess.’ Suddenly, he brightened. ‘Mom said that my grandmother Mimi might come over to visit. She’s so cool. You’d love her.’
‘Really?’ Lydia didn’t know how to take that comment. She decided to let it go. His face was so animated as he spoke.
‘She’s Papa’s mother so you guys could talk French together.’
She put her head to one side. ‘That would be nice. I’m sure she’ll be too busy with Jessica though.’
Luca got her point immediately. ‘I’m being too forward, I guess?’
‘A little. I mean, why would I meet her, Luca?’
‘As my friend.’
‘As your friend,’ she echoed.
He took an enormous gulp of wine. ‘Hell, this is good.’
Lydia nodded. ‘It’s really good. Come on, let’s drink up. Sex and the City is on after the break.’
‘What? I can’t watch that!’ Luca looked at her incredulously.
‘You can and you will. You might learn something. Plus, it’s New York so it’ll be nostalgic for you.’
‘Okay, okay. I’ll watch it. Just fill up my glass.’
An hour later, Luca shook his head.
‘Who knew? Who knew?’
‘Who knew what?’
‘It’s funny shit, Lyd.’ He switched off the TV.
Lydia smiled. ‘Guys could learn a lot from that show.’
Luca picked up the now empty bottle of wine. ‘We’re all out of booze.’
‘I think I have some vodka.’ She got to her feet and padded over to the kitchen. ‘Yep, some vodka,’ she confirmed, holding up a half-empty bottle of Smirnoff. ‘But no mixer, I’m afraid.’
‘So, drink it straight.’
Lydia made a face. ‘No way! I could never do that.’
He followed her into the kitchen. ‘Have you got juice or something?’
‘Maybe.’ Lydia opened the fridge door and scrutinising its contents. ‘Wow, Luca, you’re not just a pretty face. We have passion-fruit juice.’
‘Passion fruit?’ Luca raised an eyebrow. ‘That sounds promising.’
‘Luca,’ warned Lydia. ‘Be nice.’ She handed him the vodka and juice and grabbed two clean glasses. ‘We have no ice, so sorry.’
‘It’s perfectly okay.’ His eyes travelled lazily up and down her body, clad in purple trousers and sweater. ‘You look good in purple. Did I tell you that before?’
Lydia shook her head. ‘No, you didn’t.’
‘You wore purple the night we went to the cinema.’
Lydia’s head shot up. How did he remember that? She blushed furiously.
‘Please, Luca, you’re making things awkward.’
He threw up his hands in defeat. ‘Okay, okay, I’ll cut it out. It’s just so hard to be around you sometimes.’
‘Oh, stop it.’ Lydia poured some vodka into two glasses and added the juice. ‘Bottoms up!’ she said, taking a swig. ‘Yuk!’ she said, grimacing. ‘This is revolting.’
‘Add
more juice,’ he suggested, knocking back his own glass in one go.
‘I can’t drink it,’ she complained, wincing. ‘It’s vile.’
‘Come on, you can do it.’ He refilled his glass. ‘Hold your nose and it won’t be so gross.’
Lydia held her nose and took another gulp. ‘Nope – still gross.’
Luca laughed. ‘You need to drink more. Soon, you won’t even taste it.’
They went back and sat on the sofa. The alcohol soon started to take effect.
‘What’s your favourite film in the whole world?’ asked Lydia, almost missing the coffee table with her glass. ‘Oops!’ she giggled.
Luca paused. ‘Hell, I don’t know. Maybe Star Wars or something?’
‘Are you serious?’
‘Don’t be such a snob. It’s a great movie.’
‘Mine is very intellectual.’
Luca threw his eyes to heaven. ‘Big surprise. What is it, some art house Italian movie or something? Or, wait, let me take a shot at this. Citizen Kane?’
‘You’ll never guess.’ Lydia’s eyes twinkled.
‘Tell me.’
‘Blades of Glory! I’m a Will Ferrell freak.’
‘Holy shit, Lyd – that’s one hilarious movie!’
She giggled. ‘I know!’ Getting unsteadily to her feet, she announced, ‘I need to pee.’
‘That’s nice.’ He smiled at her as she stumbled away.
Luca got to his feet too. He wanted to do something. It had been on his mind all evening. Creeping over to a bedroom door, he peered in. He saw an immaculately made-up bed, festooned with cushions and teddies. The room smelt of lavender and there wasn’t a hair out of place.
Deep in his gut he knew it wasn’t Lydia’s room. It didn’t suit her.
He crept over to the other room. Pushing open the door, he switched on the light.
That’s more like it, he thought, drinking in the disarray. Lydia’s duvet was trailing on the ground; her clothes were strewn over a chair. There were books absolutely everywhere and posters all over the walls. Empty coffee cups lay on the desk and the curtains were closed. She had written hundreds of quotes on coloured pieces of paper and stuck them on the wall. He focused in on one.
‘But I being poor have only my dreams; I have spread my dreams under your feet; tread softly because you tread on my dreams.’
That’s neat, he thought.
‘What the hell are you doing?’
He jumped when he heard her voice.
Fuck, he thought. Busted.
‘I came in here by mistake, I’m sorry.’
He didn’t look sorry at all.
Lydia stared in horror at the state of her room. What must he think? she thought. How embarrassing.
Luca was in fact thinking about how he’d like to pull her down on the bed, take off all her clothes and kiss every inch of her body.
‘Come on, let’s get out of here,’ she suggested, switching off the light.
He reluctantly followed her back to the couch.
Lydia started to feel uneasy. He had crossed the line: again. Suddenly she felt that the best thing to do was to call it a night. She didn’t feel comfortable being alone with him anymore. He was too good-looking and she was very tipsy. He seemed to sense her mood.
‘I’m pretty tired, Luca, so ...’
‘I get it. I’m going.’ He got up and pulled on his jacket.
‘No, I don’t mean ...’
‘It’s cool, Lyd. Thanks for a great evening.’
She smiled. ‘Thank you. I had fun.’
She walked him to the door. ‘See you in class, I suppose.’
‘I guess.’ He paused and looked like he was going to say something else.
‘Yeah?’ Lydia looked at him quizzically.
His gaze deepened and she felt her pulse quicken. Reaching out he pushed a strand of hair off her face.
Her lips parted as she responded to his touch. With supreme effort, he pulled himself together.
‘Night, Lyd.’
‘Night,’ she whispered with huge eyes.
And he was gone.
She closed the door and rested her burning face against the cool wall.
Chapter 17
‘Ollie! Where did you put my phone?’
Molly burst into the kitchen, her face thunderous.
‘What do you mean?’ asked Ollie innocently, munching on his toast.
‘You know what I mean. You took it last night to play Angry Birds and I haven’t seen it since.’
‘Can’t remember.’ He grinned mischievously.
‘You’re so infuriating!’
‘Is that your word of the day?’
‘You’re dead.’ She threw the newspaper forcefully at his head.
Lydia threw her eyes to heaven. She’d come home for some peace and quiet to find Ollie in situ and Molly in a mood.
‘Mum, can you do something?’ Lydia gestured meaningfully at her siblings who were now screaming at each other.
Helen Kelly put down her newspaper. ‘Molly! Out! Now!’
‘Oh typical, just typical. Ollie is entitled to stay, is that it? Just because he’s your favourite!’ Molly’s lower lip quivered. ‘I hate this family!’
‘Molly, calm down,’ said her mother.
Ollie made faces at his little sister behind her back.
‘I hate you all!’ Molly flounced out of the room.
‘Mum, you are guilty of out-and-out favouritism, you know,’ chided Lydia. ‘Ollie is a total pain.’
‘Thanks, Ted.’ Her brother looked mock-wounded. ‘Thanks a bunch.’
Seán Kelly walked into the kitchen, a cup of coffee in his hand. ‘Lovely day outside – it’s cold but dry. I might mow the lawn, Helen.’
‘That’s nice,’ she answered absentmindedly.
Lydia’s phone buzzed in her pocket.
What U up to? On a break. Miss U XXXX
Lydia smiled. She felt sorry for Dominic having to work all weekend. She quickly punched in a reply.
Having breakfast. Everyone fighting as usual. Miss U 2 XXX
Her phone buzzed again almost immediately.
Miss U
What? He said that already. Suddenly Lydia’s eyes widened. The second message wasn’t from Dom; it was from Luca.
Why was he texting her saying that he missed her? Maybe it was meant for someone else? She debated what to do.
Hey Luca, did U mean to text me?
Picking up her toast, she took a big bite. He’s probably all embarrassed now – it was probably meant for Jessica. Probably ...
The phone buzzed again. With a beating heart, Lydia opened the message.
Yes
Yes? What does he mean? Yes, he meant to text me? Oh my God.
Lydia got to her feet. ‘Thanks for breakfast, Mum. I’m going into town to the market.’
‘Will you get me some Gubbeen cheese at the cheese stall?’ asked Helen, opening her purse.
‘Anything else?’ asked Lydia, taking the ten-euro note from her mother’s outstretched hand.
‘No, love. That’s it.’ Helen smiled.
Putting her cup in the dishwasher, Lydia grabbed her jacket and hurried out the front door.
Fifteen minutes later she was parking her mother’s trusty old Polo in the town carpark in Skibbereen.
Her dad was right – it was a beautiful day. The winter sun shone brightly and the air was crisp and cold. She buttoned up her coat and walked briskly. Saturday in Skibbereen was always busy and the footpath was crowded. Weaving in and out of parents, buggies and children, she entered the local market. Skibbereen Country Market was famous – it was a weekly event that drew crowds from near and far. A variety of stalls faithfully set up each Saturday morning, selling local produce and crafts. Children ran around with chocolate smeared over their faces and half-eaten crêpes in their hands. Parents sat at the communal tables in the centre of the market, sipping warm beverages from polystyrene cups. The air smelt of coffee beans and freshly
baked bread.
Lydia headed straight for the cheese stall and groaned when she saw the huge queue. It was always the busiest stall in the market as it offered lots of different cheeses, sold by weight. She joined the long line of people and watched the vendors work. Customers were offered slithers of cheese to taste before purchase, the size of the portion was negotiated and then sliced. Finally, it was wrapped in red-and-white paper and sealed.
Her offending phone lay in her pocket. Lydia traced the buttons with her finger.
He’s looking for a reaction, that’s all, she thought.
Suddenly, it sprang to life and vibrated loudly.
At the very same moment, the smiling girl serving the cheese turned to Lydia and asked, ‘Can I help you?’
‘Oh yes, please. May I have some Gubbeen?’ Her cheeks felt hot and her mind was reeling. All she could focus on was the phone and the message that was waiting to be read.
‘Smoked or extra mature?’
‘Extra mature.’
‘Town is mad busy.’ The girl smiled congenially at her as she lifted the round of cheese onto the board. Gubbeen, a famous local cheese, was extremely popular. Its mild creamy taste had great appeal. The girl indicated a huge portion with the cleaver.
‘Yeah, that’s fine.’ Lydia couldn’t focus.
‘A little more?’ she asked, moving the knife.
‘No, no. That’s fine,’ Lydia answered, flustered.
‘Sure.’ She pressed down and cut the hefty slice. Placing it on the red-and-white paper, she expertly folded and wrapped it.
‘That’ll be seven euros and twenty cents. Seven is fine.’ She held out her hand.
‘Thanks, thanks.’ Lydia handed her the ten-euro note.
The girl fished three euros out of the till and handed Lydia her change. ‘Thanks a million,’ she said, moving on to the next customer.
Lydia waved and walked off. Spotting a spare seat at the table in the centre, she made a beeline for it. A quick coffee sounded lovely.
Minutes later, she was sipping an americano and her phone was lying on the table. A busker was singing ‘Yesterday’ nearby. She toyed with deleting the message without reading it. Colin McCarthy appeared in her thoughts with a horrified look on his face. ‘Check it, Lyd!’ he urged before disappearing.