by Kelly, A. S.
I take a few sips, eating handfuls of cashews, when a hand appears in the bowl. I jerk around to see two red lips smiling at me.
“I saw you,” she says, nodding towards the snooker table. “You’re good,” she continues, slipping two cashews into her mouth.
I roll my eyes and turn around to stare at the bar.
“Would you mind teaching me?”
“Mmm?” I look over at her.
“You could teach me how to handle a stick.”
“I’m sure you already know full well how to handle one,” I comment, irritated.
She laughs, unfazed.
“We could always do something else.”
“Sure.”
“Something a bit more…”
I get up suddenly, grabbing my pint, looking for a different seat.
“What’s wrong?” she asks, confused.
“I’m not interested.”
“You don’t even know what I was about to suggest.”
“I can assure you that I won’t like anything you suggest.”
She looks at me as if she doesn’t understand what I’m saying.
“There are loads of guys here,” I say, gesturing around the room. “Surely one of those would be happy to oblige you.”
She stands up, too.
She’s wearing a short, black dress that shows off her legs, with a plunging neckline that leaves nothing to the imagination. Her hair is long and dark and falls over her shoulders, and her dark-eyed expression tells me exactly what she wants.
She slides her hand down my chest and I clench my fist around my pint glass.
“Don’t,” I warn her.
“Don’t what?”
“Touch me.”
I take her hand and push it back towards her.
“What’s your problem?”
“Me? Nothing. You’re the one who’s looking for a problem.”
“Maybe I’ll like this problem.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Let’s give it a try.”
I grab her by the arm and drag her across the room, heading for the toilets. I push her up against the wall in the hallway, pressing my body into hers.
“This is yours if you want it. Sure you’re still interested?”
She looks at me through narrowed eyes.
“Someone could see us,” she says, uncertain.
“I don’t mind.”
“We could go and get a drink, take things a bit more slowly…”
“I prefer this. Take it or leave it,” I challenge her.
“I don’t think that’s how it works…”
I let her go and step back, as she tries to compose herself.
“I told you that you wouldn’t like it. Don’t play with fire if you don’t want to get burned.”
“You really do have problems,” she spits, bitterly, before disappearing hurriedly into the women’s toilets.
I stay standing there for a few moments, in the hallway of the pub toilets, asking myself what the fuck I’m doing. Why can’t I deal with things normally? Why can’t I meet anyone without being a bastard? Why can’t I let go of my anger and just live?
“O’Connor!” Jamie comes over to me. “What the fuck were you thinking?”
“I was just…”
“Another fuck-up like this and I’ll skin you alive.”
“Nothing happened,” I say, trying to brush it away.
“That’s not what it looked like.”
“She started…”
“Don’t bullshit me!” he says, stepping closer. “I don’t want to see another incident like this. Do you hear me?”
I nod, lowering my gaze.
“I never expected this from you…God.” His head falls into his hands. “I can’t believe it, Ryan. When did you become so…like this?” he says, his voice raised and his arms gesticulating wildly.
I rub my face with my hand. “I…I don’t know,” I respond, confused.
“One more fuck-up and I’ll kick you out on your arse.”
“I’m sorry,” I say quietly.
“I believe that. Now, go and get some air, you look like you need it.”
He stands there with his arms crossed, waiting for me to do as he says.
“We’re not on the field. You can’t order me around.”
“Don’t try me.”
“You don’t scare me,” I challenge him, lifting my chin.
“Out. Now,” he says, intimidating.
I drop my head and leave the pub, angry, realising that may have just cost me my place on the team.
18
Chris
I clear up the last few tables and take the plates and glasses through to the back. It’s midmorning, and the breakfast rush is starting to die down. By now, most people are wandering around the shops, and we probably won’t get any customers for at least an hour, unless someone pops in for a quick coffee.
I go back into the main room to top up the milk jugs, arranging them on the tables, then take a five-minute break outside to have a cigarette. I lean back against the glass. Today is grey and rainy, even though we’re well into spring. This weather always fills me with a strange sadness, brings me down more than usual. I slowly exhale the smoke and watch people rushing up and down the street, peering every now and again into shop windows. I put my cigarette out into the ashtray and decide to head back inside to start preparing the sandwiches for lunch, wiping my feet on the doormat as I go in. But out of the corner of my eye, I make out a familiar figure on the other side of the road.
He turns, confused, from one window to the other, looking inside and then shaking his head. He walks a few paces, then turns back. He stops. Then he retraces the same steps again.
I stand there watching for a few minutes, as he repeats the same movements, then I decide to cross the road.
“Mr O’Connor?” I call.
He stops in his tracks and looks at me, though his eyes are distracted.
“Everything okay?” I ask gently.
“I think so,” he replies, shaking himself from his trance.
“Are you out for a walk?” I try.
“Mmm…maybe…”
I take him carefully by the arm. “Can I get you a coffee or something?” I ask, guiding him towards my café.
“Oh…okay.” He lets me steer him away, but I’m not sure that he knows who I am.
I open the door to the café for him and help him sit at a table near the counter, so I can keep an eye on him. Vic comes over as I’m making him a coffee.
“What’s going on?”
“I don’t know, but he seems confused. I’m not sure.”
“Do you think there’s something wrong with him?”
“I have no idea, Vic,” I say, worried.
“Do you think we should call someone?”
“I wouldn’t know who to call. I don’t know his number or where he lives. He comes in sometimes with his wife, and I know Ian and Riley, but I don’t know how to get in contact with any of them.”
“Maybe he just had a moment…”
“Maybe,” I say, unconvinced.
“What shall we do?”
“For now I’ll just take him this coffee,” I say, leaving the counter and heading towards him.
I sit down next to him and hand him the mug.
“Thank you,” he smiles.
“Milk and sugar?”
“Just milk.”
I pour him some milk and stand there watching him in silence for a few minutes, then I decide to investigate.
“So…Where were you off to in the rain there?”
“Oh, well, I…” he stops to think. “I was going somewhere.”
“Sure,” I smile at him, taking his hand; he looks at it for a second, then smiles too.
“Would you like something to eat?”
“No, love, I wouldn’t want to trouble you.”
“It’s no trouble,” I say, getting up. “I’ll bring you a scone, what do you say?”
&n
bsp; “That would be lovely. Thank you.”
“I’ll be right back.”
I go quickly over to the counter, where Vic is waiting for me.
“So?”
“I don’t think he has any idea who I am or…where he is,” I say, casting a glance over in his direction. “We should call someone.”
Vic ponders this for a moment, then has an idea. “Riley!” she says, grabbing her phone. “She works at the theatre in town.”
“Right! At the Gate Theatre. We can Google the number.” I scroll through the phone, looking for the right number, then press call. A man with a high-pitched, kind voice passes her on to me right away. I explain the situation to her calmly – I don’t want to make her worry – and she tells me she’ll let the family know immediately to come and get him. She doesn’t offer me an explanation, and I don’t ask. It’s none of my business.
I’ve known the O’Connors for a while. They come into the café every so often, and I’ve got to know Ian and Riley for a few months now, but we’re not close enough for me to ask about something so delicate. Unfortunately, looking at Mr O’Connor sitting at the table now, so lost and alone, I realise that this is, indeed, one of those situations, and I can’t to anything other than feel my heart restricting a little.
19
Ryan
I sprint into the café, Mum following behind. Ian’s in the garage fixing his bike, and wouldn’t have got here in time, so Riley called me; I just was at home, enjoying my morning off. I left in a hurry and went to find Mum, who was out searching for Dad. They’d gone out to run some errands, but while she was paying at the till, Dad had quietly wandered off: Mum, blinded by panic, couldn’t find him anywhere. He must have walked off down the high street and lost his bearings.
I approach the table where Christine is sitting with Dad. Mum takes my arm and asks me under her breath to calm down, and take a few steps back. We never know how to behave when this happens, whether Dad will just be confused or be angry and irritable. So we hang back a moment, waiting to see how he’ll react.
He’s talking to Christine, smiling while she holds his hand. She’s calming him down. They sit, sipping their coffees together with something to eat, like two old friends. He’s relaxed, he feels safe, at home.
She makes him feel like that.
“What a sweet girl,” Mum whispers to me.
I nod, my jaw clenched.
“Hey, I came as soon as I could,” Nick says loudly, storming into the café with enough of a racket to make Christine look up from their conversation.
She smiles at us and nods, while Mum slowly makes her way over to their table. She gently places her hand on the back of Dad’s chair, trying to discreetly enter into their conversation.
“Ian’s on his way,” Nick tells me. “He couldn’t head over right away, he was working on his bike.”
“It’s alright, I was around. I can handle stuff like this on my own, you know.”
“It’s not a competition, Ryan.”
I ignore him and go over to the table too, but in silence.
A few customers come in, and Christine gets up and excuses herself. My father says goodbye, thanking her and extending his hand, then she heads back behind the counter.
“Do you know her?” asks Nick, coming over to us.
“Not very well, I’ve only been here a few times.”
“Well, we should thank her.”
“Sure. I’ll do it.”
Nick sits down with our parents, and I approach the counter, where she’s starting up the coffee machine. I clear my throat and she looks up.
“Er…” I stammer, incapable of telling her what I need to tell her, my stomach turning somersaults.
“I saw him outside, he seemed…confused.”
I sigh, painfully.
“They’ve been coming here for years, and I’ve never seen him like this.”
“He has his moments,” I say vaguely.
“I understand,” she arranges some mugs onto a tray, then nods at a girl to take them over to one of the tables. “Can I get you anything?”
“No, I’m fine, thanks…”
“I’ll take you up on that,” Nick interjects. “Could I have a cappuccino and a sandwich? I don’t mind which, anything’s good. I was out early this morning and I didn’t get to have breakfast.”
“Sure,” she smiles at him.
She smiled at Nick.
I feel like a petrol tank has just exploded in my stomach.
“Thank you for keeping our father company.”
“Our?” she asks, looking between us.
“We haven’t been introduced yet,” Nick says, extending his hand.
Jesus, Nick. You’ll never change.
“I’m Nick, I haven’t been back in town for long so I’ve never had the chance to come into this café before – but now that I know about it, I’ll be coming back a lot more.”
“Well, nice to meet you then, Nick. I’m Chris, and this is my little café.”
Chris.
There goes another petrol tank. This time the explosion is deafening.
“I’ve known your parents for ages, and your brother, Ian, and Riley, and…”
“So it was just me you were missing.”
“It appears so, unless you have another brother hidden away somewhere.”
“No, that’s it. Oh, and this is our little Ryan.”
Fucking bastard.
“We already know each other,” she says flatly. “Go sit down with your parents, I’ll bring your order over.”
“Thanks, Chris.”
“What would your mother like? Do you think she’d like a bowl of soup, or something else?”
“She loves potato soup.”
“Perfect, that’s our soup of the day. I’ll bring her one right away,” she smiles again and walks away.
“Very nice. Not a bad…”
“Fuck off, Nick!” I leave him there and storm outside the café to calm down. I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m sure as hell that I won’t like it.
Nick catches up with me a few seconds later.
“What’s wrong with you? What’ve I done now?”
“Nothing, Nick. You never do a fucking thing.”
“I was just talking to Chris, she seems nice. She helped out Dad…” he stops, suddenly. “Oh.”
“Oh, what?” I attack him right away.
“You could’ve told me.”
“Told you what?” I’m panicking now.
“That you like her…”
“Don’t bullshit me. Have you seen her?”
“Yes, I have. And it seems like you have, too.”
“Oh, please. If you like her so much, go ahead and fuck her. It wouldn’t be the first time.”
“Ryan…”
“I’m not interested, I don’t like her. To be honest, I hate her. She’s stupid, and she has an arse as big as the boot of my car. I mean, come on, she’s a waitress…”
A voice behind us makes us start.
“Everything’s ready at your table. I just wanted to let you know,” she says, turning back inside.
“You’re a real dickhead,” Nick growls, before heading inside and leaving me alone with my gut-wrenching guilt.
20
Ryan
I’ve been sitting in the car, parked in front of her house, for about forty-five minutes. “A rational person with a brain and an education would never sit here like a dick, breathing in and out of a paper bag, rehearsing conversations in their head, trying to find the right words to say I was a fucking idiot, I’m sorry.” But I can’t force myself to say the words. They’re trapped in my mind, trying to find the exit, but they just won’t make it onto my tongue.
Get up…come on…why are you scared?
Even Oasis are making fun of me, through the car radio. One of my brothers must have tuned it – unless my mind is just playing tricks on me.
I know it shouldn’t be hard, but I can’t do it. I goes against
everything that I am. Against all my logic. I shouldn’t care what she thinks, that she knows I think she has a huge arse. And all the other horrible things I said. I shouldn’t keep causing drama – I mean, what did she do? She helped my father. Someone she barely knew. She took care of him, sat with him, contacted us for him.
Just take what you need… And be on your way… And stop crying your heart out1.
Okay, Gallagher, I get it. There’s no need to rub it in. I hear you loud and clear, okay? Did you write those lyrics just to torment people, make them lose their minds? It isn’t nice, you know. Just mind your own business, and stop getting involved in other people’s thoughts, just to…to…Oh, damn it! Now I’m talking to the radio, too.
Okay, that’s enough.
I can do this.
One last breath and I put down the paper bag. I open the driver’s door and place my feet onto the ground. I get up and, with my legs like jelly, I walk towards the front door. I glance at the front window, but the curtains are drawn and I can’t see anything.
I gather up my courage and knock on the door, waiting with my hands in my pockets. I feel on the brink of a panic attack, but I’ve left my paper bag in the car.
When the door opens and her eyes look into mine – I can see now that they’re green, fuck – I understand that I’ve made a huge mistake, I’m standing in front of the wrong door for the wrong person.
“Ryan?”
“Hey, Chris…tine.”
“What are you doing here?”
What am I doing here?
I was a dick. I treated you like shit for no reason. I offended you just because I’m incapable of paying you a compliment. I didn’t thank you for helping my father, and my whole family, because I don’t know how to be nice to people.
“I…er…” I splutter.
Dick.
I hang my head and lean my shoulder against the doorframe, waiting for the words to come out of my mouth, but I’m frozen.
Come on, Ryan. You can do it. What the fuck?!
“I’m sorry, and…thanks.”