Pack Up the Moon

by Anna McPartlin

  He went into the empty foyer, rang a bell and waited for a response, fixing himself as though he was picking up a girl for a first date.

  A smiling middle-aged woman emerged. “Hot day,” she said.

  “Yeah. I’m looking for Noel –”

  “Father Noel?” she interrupted.

  “That’s right,” he said, smiling for the first time that day. At least he was in the right place.

  “He’s in the diner on the corner,” she said, pointing. He thanked her and exited into the heat again, removing his jacket and rolling up his sleeves.

  He could see Noel through the diner window before he crossed the street. He looked good, wearing casual clothes. His hair was a little longer and he was laughing with the man seated opposite him, unaware of the bomb about to be dropped. Seán wondered if he should leave. It might be better to check into his hotel first, maybe shower and change his clothes. Maybe he should eat first, gain his strength. The closer to the window he got, the hotter it seemed to be. His stomach was annoying him again.

  Christ, I hope it’s not an ulcer.

  He entered quietly but the bell on the door gave him away. Noel looked up automatically and then looked away before realisation crept upon his face and he turned back, focusing on his old friend. He jumped up and Seán braved a smile.

  “What the hell?” Noel said, confused and delighted.

  Seán just smiled, hoping against hope that Noel wouldn’t worry until it was necessary. Noel’s eyes narrowed.

  Too late.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked, hugging a weakened Seán.

  “I’ve come to see you.”

  “What’s wrong?” Noel asked, worried that something had happened to a member of his family.

  “Nothing’s wrong,” Seán lied while smiling at Noel’s friend.

  The man returned the grin.

  “You’re here on business?” Noel asked, leading him to the table.

  “Yeah,” Seán heard himself saying. He sat.

  Noel’s friend leaned across the table to shake his hand. “I’m Matt. It’s good to meet ya.”

  Seán shook Matt’s hand. “You too,” he smiled, sick that he had lied, yet relieved that he was facing a reprieve.

  “Matt’s a doctor – he’s worked all over the world.”

  Seán grinned at him. “Ever think of coming to Ireland? We could certainly do with some more doctors.”

  Matt laughed. “I think there’s probably more need in the Third World.” He chuckled happily.

  “Check out James’s St emergency room any night of the week and come back to me on that,” Seán said, grabbing the menu.

  Noel laughed loudly, glad to be reminded of home even if it was its shit health system. “How’s my sister?” he asked and not before time.

  “Good,” Seán smiled genuinely, possibly for the first time that day. “She’s getting big.”

  “It won’t be long now,” Noel grinned.

  “No,” Seán sighed and put the menu back. He wasn’t going to be able to eat now.

  “Congratulations, man,” Matt said.

  “Cheers,” Seán said, wondering whether or not Matt would be saying that to Noel any time soon.

  They talked with Matt for a while. Seán reminisced about the time we had all spent a summer together working in New York. Matt talked about 9/11 and the devastation that had overcome some of the areas that Seán had remembered so fondly. Noel was excited about going to some distant land to make it a better place, anticipating what the future held. God love him.

  Then Matt ran off to meet a girl. They didn’t hang about long. Noel was excited and wanted to show him some of the sights. Seán insisted he had been there, done that and asked if they could go back to Noel’s place. He used heat as the excuse and Noel seemed to buy it hook, line and sinker.

  They walked back to his hotel. Noel was busy pointing out attractive buildings and cool cars. Seán was busy working out how to break his news. They reached the hotel and Noel talked briefly to the doorman while Seán basked in the air-conditioned foyer.

  “It’s raining at home,” Seán mumbled in the lift.

  “It’s always raining at home,” Noel laughed. He let them into the room and Seán parked himself in the chair. Noel fluffed his pillows and sat on the bed. “So what do you need to talk about?” he asked, kicking off his shoes.

  “What?” Seán asked surprised.

  “You’re in New York for twenty-four hours and you want to spend it in my bedroom?” Noel laughed. “I don’t think so. What’s the problem?”

  Seán sighed. Of course Noel knew there was a problem, but he had figured that it was someone else’s. Why wouldn’t he? It was always someone else’s problem, just not this time. Noel was looking at Seán with curiosity. It was time.

  “It’s Laura.”

  Noel paled instantly. “What’s happened?” he begged, obviously shaken, fearing the worst.

  “She has a son,” Seán found himself saying.

  Noel froze. This was a problem he hadn’t counting on having to solve.

  “He’s yours.”

  Seán couldn’t bring himself to look at Noel. Noel couldn’t tear his eyes away from Seán.

  “What?” he said, although he desperately didn’t want him to repeat his previous statement.

  Seán guessed as much. “He was one last month. Emma said he’s the head cut off you.”

  Noel’s lip began to tremble and his hands began to shake. He didn’t ask if Seán was joking. He knew people didn’t fly thousands of miles to take the piss. Instead he got angry, so angry his face reddened and eyes hardened. Then he was up on his feet and moving towards Seán, who instinctively rose to his feet to be met by a punch in the face. He went down, holding his left eye in disbelief. Noel stood over him.

  “What are you doing here?” he roared.

  Seán was confused to say the least, as he believed that he had just quite categorically stated the reason for his visit.

  “Would you rather I didn’t come?” he shouted from the floor.

  “This is not your business!” Noel roared while backing away from him.

  “You’re right,” Seán said, getting up and brushing himself off. “This is none of my business. I have enough of my own worries.” He’d had enough.

  He slammed the door behind him but not before he heard Noel thud to the floor.

  Noel told me later that for hours he rocked back and forth silently, tears streaming from his eyes. The anger that had so quickly engulfed him had burned itself out just as quickly and now he was left alone, lost and bitterly regretting his outburst. Seán didn’t deserve that, but I suppose that day he was wondering what he himself deserved. Was this a punishment? Was it God’s way of kicking him out? He had broken his oath. Who was he to think he could get away with it? And I know that he felt cheated and desperate. It was nightfall before he rose from the ground. He picked up a light jacket and headed out onto the streets. He walked in a straight line, following the street that led him away from his hotel and his new life, unaware of where he was going, but desperate to complete the necessary journey.

  My brother was Forrest Gump.

  * * *

  Meanwhile Seán sat in the coolness of his hotel bar, full from bar food and sipping on a cool beer. His eye hurt and he could see the waitress checking out his black eye. He was confused by my brother’s response but a tiny part of him could almost understand it. Finding out you’re a father is a big shock. Then again, if it had been Laura who had broken the news, as it should have been, would she have received the same treatment? He didn’t think so. So much for gratitude. Maybe Noel would have preferred not to know in the short term and even Seán and his sore eye could admit that it would have been better coming from someone else. After all, at the end of the day he was just the guy who got Noel’s sister up the pole. It was hardly a qualification to be the bearer of such weighty news. But he also thought of Noel as a friend and had hoped that Noel felt the same w
ay.

  After an hour of mulling it all over in his head, he came to the conclusion that he was disappointed. Disappointed that Noel had reacted to him the way he did and disappointed that he had reacted to the news of his own child that way. Of course it was a shock and of course it would jeopardise his plan but this wasn’t about Noel.

  Seán was halfway through his second beer when he understood the real reason he was disappointed with Noel’s angry and bitter reaction. He remembered his reaction to his impending fatherhood. He remembered the sheer joy he had experienced, the overwhelming sense of being complete. And sitting in a hotel bar off Broadway with a black eye and a dodgy stomach, he concluded that he would never be like his mother. And in that moment a weight lifted and for the first time in weeks, and possibly for the first time ever, he was free.

  * * *

  Noel walked through the streets of New York for most of that night. He said he reached Christopher Street sometime around four a.m. and there he knelt on the sidewalk and prayed. I did mention to him that he was lucky he didn’t get his head kicked in, or get robbed or even harassed. But then it would appear that the weird and scary tend to stay away from the weird and scary. After an hour or so he got up and began making his way back to the beginning. It was after two when Noel knocked on Seán’s hotel room door.

  Seán was packing away his things, grateful for a late checkout. He opened the door to my dishevelled and contrite brother. He allowed the door to swing open and Noel entered while Seán continued to busy himself with his packing.

  “I’m sorry.”

  Seán turned to him. “I’m sorry I had to be the one to tell you.”

  “I know.” Noel sat on a chair similar to the one in his own hotel room. “How’s your eye?” he asked, wincing at the purple swollen face opposite.

  “Could be better,” Seán said, half-smiling.

  “I really am sorry,” Noel said, putting his head in his hands.

  “It’s not the end of the world,” Seán said with authority. “It might even be a new beginning,” he added a tad limply, not wishing to receive a second blow to the face.

  “You don’t think I’m being punished?” Noel asked, shaking his head.

  “Do you?” Seán sat on the edge of the bed.

  “Maybe. No. Yes. I don’t know,” he said, resigned to the fact that this was a problem that could not be solved by a night spent on his knees.

  “I’d call it a chance,” Seán attempted.

  “A chance?”

  “You have a son, man,” Seán said smiling, even though when he did his entire face hurt.

  “So why didn’t Laura tell me? Why you?” Noel at last asked the obvious.

  “I just got lucky,” Seán attempted to joke. Noel didn’t appear impressed so he moved on quickly. “You chose the priesthood. She chose to have the baby. She didn’t want to burden you.”

  “But you did?” Noel asked, raising his eyes to meet Seán’s.

  “Emma found out. She couldn’t keep it from you. If she could have come herself, she would have,” Seán explained as best he could, glad of the chance he had been previously denied.

  “I’m so sorry,” my brother repeated.

  “Don’t worry about it. Actually I got some stuff worked out and besides it’s good to know you’re not perfect. It was beginning to be a real burden,” he laughed.

  Noel smiled nodding his head. “I’m definitely not that.”

  “And I’ve got the face to prove it.”

  Noel accompanied Seán to the airport. He waited until he was to board. At the gate they hugged goodbye. Seán took a picture of Noel’s son from his pocket and handed it to him. He took it and pocketed it for later. That was something he would view alone. Noel handed Seán a letter for Laura. Seán waved as he went through and when he was out of sight the ghost that used to be my brother turned and walked away.

  Chapter 25

  Dying to See You

  I hand-delivered the letter myself. It was the least I could do under the circumstances. Laura was pleasant and offered me tea but during my short visit she didn’t open the letter. I explained my brother’s shock without mentioning the fact that he had been a bit of a dick. Seán had defended him. However, I was not so tolerant. As far as I was concerned Seán had dropped three hundred quid on the flight. The least my brother could have done was refrain from punching him in the face. Laura was remarkably calm in light of the nasty situation she faced. She was a hippy at heart and I put it down to that, although I don’t really know why. She was really sweet about my pregnancy, giving me some teas to try and little hints about bringing on labour. She had had Noel Junior naturally, insisting that squatting was a far superior position from which to expel a child. I tried to smile through her vivid account of the beauty that is birth, while making a mental note to book my epidural on my next hospital visit. Noel Junior played with a cardboard box in the corner of the kitchen while repeating a sound that sounded remarkably like “tosser” over and over again.

  “Just ignore him,” she had warned.

  “OK.”

  I smiled, sipping on tea that tasted like tree bark. “He’s very advanced,” I noted. Being a year old and being able to say something that approached the word “tosser” was no mean feat, even if it wasn’t the most desirable of first words.

  She laughed, agreeing, and noting that she herself had walked at eight months. “He must take after you then. Noel was on his arse until he was two.”

  She laughed. “It’s a wonder he wasn’t on his knees,” she said, grinning.

  I really liked her. She had a good sense of humour and an inner calm that I was unfamiliar with. It was easy to see why my brother had fallen for her. Aside from her rubbish-tasting teas and an admission that she was a Neil Diamond fan, she was a real gem.

  I wanted to confide that I wasn’t feeling so good. The doctor had dismissed my endless moaning at the beginning of my pregnancy and now it was a case of the boy who cried wolf. Laura seemed so understanding, but then again this wasn’t about me. I decided against seeking her counsel and left when it became apparent that she was waiting for my departure so that she could bury herself in my brother’s response to the news of a son.

  * * *

  Clodagh and Anne arrived later that night to sit and watch TV and, having succumbed to a number of dizzy spells, it was all I was pretty much fit for. Seán, Richard, Tom and a few of his friends were at a friendly Ireland match. I had noticed that Seán’s general humour had improved greatly since his trip and mentioned it to Clo. She however couldn’t give a toss about Seán or his humour. She wanted to know the secret I was keeping.

  “I’m not keeping any secrets,” I denied, going red.

  “Emma,” she sighed. “Look in the mirror.”

  I didn’t need to. I looked to Anne for support, but it had been a slow gossip week, so she, instead of addressing my gaze, borrowed my usual habit of pretending to pick lint off the cushion. I weakened. OK, I admit it didn’t take much. I was dying to unload myself. I could have sworn the unspoken information was making me feel fatter.

  “Noel’s a father.”

  Clodagh nearly fell off the chair. Anne looked at me like I was insane.

  “You are having a laugh,” Clo said, more out of habit than actually believing that Noel being a dad would be a source of great humour. “Laura?” she asked, having an extraordinary ability to remember even the smallest details of someone else’s private life.

  “Who’s Laura?” Anne asked, confused and already a little pissed off.

  It was at that point that I remembered that I hadn’t ever spoken to Anne about Noel and his affair. It seemed only fair that I share his secret with only one as opposed to many, but in the cold light of this new information that action was being seen as anything but fair. Clodagh, immediately realising that we had both put our foot in it, became unhelpfully tongue-tied.

  “I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone so I only told Clo,” I said hopefully.

&nbs
p; “Oh,” Anne said, nodding her head. “Fine.” She was still nodding her head. This was never a good sign.

  Clo jumped in. “And she mentioned it to me by accident.”

  “By accident?” Anne said, not believing a word of it. “How does that work? Did Emma start off by talking about her day and the words ‘Noel’s shagging someone’ just fell out of her mouth?”

  Clo was stuck.

  I jumped in. “Anne, he made me swear not to tell anyone.”

  “Yeah, you said. So you only told Clo.”

  “Yeah,” I said wearily. I was way too heavily pregnant to deal with this.

  “Your best friend Clodagh. Of course why wouldn’t you tell her? But me, well, who am I? I’m just in the background and a supporting role in the Emma and Clo Show.” She started to get up.

  This outburst had taken both Clodagh and me by surprise and neither of us was prepared to respond. I realised she was leaving.

  “Anne, it’s not like that!”

  Clodagh agreed but Anne wasn’t buying it. She grabbed her coat. “You know, I’m sick of being the third wheel.” She got to the door before Clo stopped her.

  I was still stuck to the sofa, battling to get to my feet.

  “What’s wrong with you?” Clo held the door and got into her face, the way she always did in a confrontation.

  “I’m sick of you!” Anne roared from a place deep down. “I’m sick of both of you and your little private club!”

  “Oh, don’t be so ridiculous, there is no private club,” Clo stated calmly and maybe a little dismissively while still holding the door.

  Anne had had enough. She tried to pull the door, but Clo wasn’t letting her go anywhere, so she crumbled. She burst into tears and sobbed heartily. All the previous aggravation left Clodagh and she stood there utterly confused by Anne’s desolation. I had at last managed to get off the sofa. I hugged Anne, figuring that touch is sometimes better than talk. I led her back to the sofa and ensured that she sat before I followed. Clo followed us. We waited for Anne to tell us what was really going on.

  “The IVF won’t work. Richard’s sperm count is not only low but he has serious motility problems also.”