‘Where are you?’
I stand up. ‘Moloney’s. Y’OK? Is it your mam? Is she –?’
She takes a deep sigh. I can only imagine what it’s like to have to worry about a parent like Emerald has had to. I’m already reaching under Kenny’s stool for my jacket. ‘Want me to come over?’
‘No, I’ll be with you in ten minutes.’
I’m sitting on the wall outside Jackie Chan’s Chinese, waiting. There’s a line of sight all the way to the crossroads but the bang of curry-chips is making me queasy. I’m slinking towards the steps by the ATM when I spot her. Her hair sways lightly in the wind, but her walk is slow and heavy.
Without a word I fold her inside my jacket and hold her there, tightly. ‘Y’all right?’ I ask, after a minute, but she doesn’t answer. I lift her chin. ‘Hey?’ She sniffles and I can see her sad eyes properly now. ‘I take it this isn’t about the Johnny Cash track I uploaded?’ I ask, gently steering her towards the steps, away from passers-by.
She doesn’t even smile. ‘You know I told you it’s all messed up with Mum? Well, I didn’t really cover Dad and all the stuff going on there too,’ she says, crouching down by the railings, her head falling into her hands.
I sit down beside her, watching all manner of Saturday night legs file past between the railings in front of us. ‘Go on.’
‘Today went OK. At least I thought it did, even though Dad was being his usual distracted self. But on the way back from the airport’ – she turns to look at me – ‘he went all weird, Liam.’
‘Whatcha mean?’
‘Said he’s in trouble, serious trouble.’ Her breath is shaky. ‘And it’s all my fault.’
I almost stand. ‘He actually said it’s all your fault?’
‘No!’ she pulls at my arm. ‘It’s not my fault about him being in trouble, but it’s my fault I made him lose it. He nearly crashed the car, and I was the one who made him do it,’ she says, finally slowing her gallop before sucking in another long breath.
Somewhere in the distance I hear our names being called, but I block it out. ‘I don’t understand, Em. How could any of this be down to you?’
‘D’you remember I told you about his case?’ she asks.
‘Yeah,’ I say. I do. She brought it up the night of Fiona’s party.
‘All right, lovebirds.’ It’s Fiona shouting, teetering unsteadily by the ATM. She waves over eagerly, clearly thrilled to have discovered us. I’m not sure we even acknowledge her before turning back to one another.
‘There’s a pretty good chance he’s going to lose. I know it probably sounds stupid, but I never thought Dad would lose at anything.’
‘But doesn’t that happen?’ I say, as the sound of Fiona’s precariously clicking heels get progressively louder. ‘I mean sometimes lawyers lose. Don’t they?’ I wave up at Fiona, who is at our feet now and I attempt a discreet point at Em, along with an explanatory shrug, but she doesn’t take the hint and just stands there, grinning.
‘He’s not a lawyer, Liam.’ Em whispers. ‘He’s the one being sued!’
I’m staring at Fiona but my brain’s desperately trying to focus on what Em’s just said.
‘Lads, it’s five minutes to last orders. C’mon!’ she says, reaching out her hand to Em, who surprises me by taking it.
I shove open the heavy door and together we fall into the warm noise. They’re all still there, just more glasses and even more crisp packets. Kenny waves over and I nod back to him.
‘Here, what d’you want?’ I ask Em as I break off towards the bar. I watch her for a moment considering.
She’s not sure whether to follow me, or to answer Fiona’s beckoning wave. I can tell. ‘Just a Coke,’ she shouts back.
She’s at the table now. Murph’s pulled up a stool for her and she nestles in amongst the girls. Not for the first time she seems like that lost wallaby amongst the native wildlife. When I think back now, to that first night at the shelters, I didn’t meet Emerald. Emerald happened. Emerald Rutherford: the seminal event of this summer and all summers thereafter, Amen.
As is the way in Moloney’s at this hour, it takes an age to get served. The bar is two deep. In between attempts to catch one of the barmen’s eyes, I stare back at her. She’s wangled a beer from somewhere and is sipping it steadily, flanked between Murph and Fiona now, chatting away like she’s been there all night. Whether she really feels it or not, she looks content again. She’s good at that front of hers.
I spy Kenny out of the corner of my eye. He’s waving frantically, then he’s up, walking towards me. ‘Did you not see me?’
‘Wha–?’
‘Two Heinos, you walnut?’
‘Cool, I got it.’
Finally the youngest Moloney brother clocks me. ‘Flynn?’ he says, slapping his palm on the counter. I shout my order over the head of some aul fella, Kenny on sentry duty at my side. He’s not taking any chances on not getting his beers.
‘She all right over there?’ I ask, nodding over.
‘Yeah, she’s grand. They’re all blathering about results. My head’s wrecked listening to them, to be honest.’
I hand him his pints and we push through the thick crowd together.
I’m about halfway across the crowded bar when I pick out Em’s voice above the others. It’s her vowels: like herself, they can’t help but spring out from the surrounding flatness. She’s got her back to me. Her hands are gesturing away to Fiona. What Em clearly hasn’t clocked is that the rest of the table is also listening intently, and then suddenly I know.
‘I mean he’s so talented. Have you heard his SoundCloud stuff? It’s … incredible! He just has to go for it,’ she says. ‘There are so many opportunities now –’
I want to shout at her to stop. I want to run over and slam my hand over her mouth to stop the words coming but I know it’s too late. I never thought I’d say this but I wish to God she’d shut up. Then her long hair tips back briefly as she drains the last of the beer. I make the rest of the short journey through some kind of treacle. Turbo’s looking up at me and I know what’s coming. Well, I don’t know exactly, but I know something’s coming. Everyone goes quiet as I crouch down and their faces move from hers to mine, as one. I’m staring at Turbo, daring him to do whatever it is he’s got planned. I can feel the heat of their burning irises. I nudge the sea of empty glasses forward and land the fresh wave of drinks on the table.
Em looks up at me. Has she any idea what she’s done? It feels like everyone in the world is looking at me right now. I can’t lift my eyes.
‘Well, if it’s not Hozier himself,’ says Turbo, rubbing his hands together.
My head’s melted. I’ve never admitted to anyone that I want to sing or that I write any of that stuff. Those dreams were mine, only mine, and now they’re out there for people like Turbo to piss all over. I thought she’d respect that, but it’s like she didn’t even twig it. No, it’s just banter to her, some chatter to tell Fiona and Murph while waiting for me to come back from the bar.
Everybody breaks into ribbons of laughter. A few of the lads sing that bloody song about the church.
What the hell was she thinking?
I’ve got to get outta here.
EMERALD
Falling, right there in front of you
I watch Liam’s broad, black figure, steering the boat expertly into the wind. He’s thoroughly absorbed and fixed on our destination. It’s not only the cold or the missing sunset that makes this journey to the island so unlike the first. It’s us. I hear him take a breath and I hold mine.
He’s been quiet like this since we left the pier. We spoke on the phone last night but only when he called to say he wouldn’t be joining me to babysit, which, when he’s come every other time, I couldn’t help but find significant. There’ve been texts but we haven’t actually seen each other since he left Moloney’s suddenly on Saturday night, something to do with his little sister, he said, but I’m not convinced. Something is clearly off. After
almost seventy-two hours I’m pretty certain he’s mad at me.
Although it’s only Tuesday, everything before Saturday feels like a lifetime ago. Since seeing Mum, I’ve felt at sea in every sense. By the time we reached the airport on Saturday evening Dad had bounced back to some strained sense of normality, insisting all will be fine, but I still can’t get that image of him, slumped over the wheel, out of my mind. It’s as though everything is upside down.
It’s hard to believe we’re out here on the water again. If the last journey felt dreamy, this one feels wild. The light shifts and my insides churn. I can barely see the look on Liam’s face, but I know I don’t like it. I wish it wasn’t so dark.
‘We’ll head for the harbour.’ He shouts it up the boat, his eyes never leaving the invisible skyline.
He’s always said we need to stay clear of that side. ‘Aren’t we trying not to be seen?’
‘This easterly is picking up. I can’t risk the rocks. Even if we make it, it’s too exposed for anchorage overnight. We’ll hit the smaller shore north of the harbour. Slip in there. There’s no way they’re expecting anyone at this time of night.’
‘OK.’
I feel him looking at me for the first time. ‘It’ll be grand,’ he says, his hair blowing about his angular face. I might be imagining it from this distance, but his expression appears to soften.
As the white boathouse along the harbour wall comes into view, he turns off the light and we drift in gently towards land.
It was an easier mooring this time, but there’s a distinct chill in the air. We start to unload the bags and carry them towards a sheltered cove, just uphill from the tiny shore. It’s protected and safe but still I can’t relax. The noise of the birds disturbed by our arrival is ear-splitting. I watch Liam crouched down checking the ground to see that it’s level.
‘You going to Kenny’s results party next Friday? Or pre-results as he calls it.’ It’s my attempt to fill in the silence.
Liam sits down on a large rock and sighs. ‘Not sure I feel like celebrating.’
‘C’mon.’ I’m kneeling in front of him now, trying to catch his eye.
‘I’m not punching the air about what’s ahead, Em,’ he says, getting up with another exaggerated sigh.
‘Isn’t that the whole idea though? You’re celebrating the achievement of being finished and not the actual results?’ He doesn’t answer. ‘Besides, you never know what’s going to happen.’
‘I do know. And I don’t want to,’ he says dismissively, brushing past me and unrolling the tent with one great shake.
God, this is irritating! I get up and plod back through the shingle towards the remaining bag but I stop before I reach it and turn back to him, bolstered by some unexpected charge. ‘You can’t fix what happened to your dad, Liam.’
He spins around and glares at me. It’s excruciating. Even as I turn away I feel the weight of his eyes following as I drag the heavy swell of tent poles up the slope to him. I know I should regret opening my mouth, but my blood is rising and I’m not regretting anything at all. In fact, I want to keep going. My tongue is loaded with words I want to let out. Words I’ve never found with anyone else, and now they’ve formed I need to set them free.
‘You’re not responsible. You do know that? I mean, it’s not –’
He stops unfolding the tent and approaches me, snatching the other side of the bag. The force of his movements startles me and I stop.
Together we hoof the bag up the sand in unbearable silence. It’s not long before we reach the cove where he stops dead. ‘Listen to you.’
I let go of the bag.
He blows air sharply out of his nose, looking up and shaking his head. ‘It’s like you suddenly believe talking about shit will make it better,’ he says coldly. I’m gripped by a surprising rage. I open my mouth to speak but he’s in too quick. ‘And, if I don’t make it right for Da,’ he says, ‘who will, eh?’ He falls to his knees and spreads the groundsheet out in a circle around him.
‘C’mon, Liam. You’re not expected to be some sort of family saviour.’
He shoves his fist into the small bag of hooks, searching furiously for something. ‘That’s how you see it?’
‘Yes! You’re being ridiculous now.’
‘Jesus, Em, say how you really feel.’ He finally looks up at me, stands and then draws a pole out roughly from the bag between my legs. ‘Getting good at that, aren’t you?’ His hands are shaking.
‘All I meant is it’s not your job to fix your parents’ problems.’
I don’t recognise the look in his eye. I’ve never seen his chin jut forwards like that. The beautiful geometry of his mouth has shifted, like he’s eaten something bitter. I can’t believe I’ve made him look like this.
‘You can talk!’ he says, returning to grab another pole.
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘So you’re telling me your whole flawless front comes out of nowhere, does it?’
‘Excuse me?’
‘So …’ he says, waving one arm in the darkness, ‘you don’t play at being Daddy’s darling Scout to compensate for your drunken mother? None of that’s related?’ he says, tossing something into the sand in front of him. ‘I must have read that one wrong.’
I drop the remaining poles at my feet and the bag tumbles down the sandy slope with a heavy clatter. ‘Fuck you, Liam!’ I have to unclip my life-vest so I can breathe; it’s trying to burst from my chest, along with my lungs.
‘Fuck me?’ he asks, as though he can’t believe the words coming out of my mouth either.
‘Yes!’ I spit. ‘I trusted you and now you’re throwing that trust back in my face.’ I toss the vest towards the tent.
‘I’m not throwing anything, Em, but if we’re digging up some truths about trust here, then let’s do it.’ His eyes bore into mine. ‘Let’s really be honest.’
Jesus Christ. ‘You want honest?’ My heart is literally thrashing around inside me.
‘Yes! Be properly honest with me. Go on,’ he says, stepping closer, like he’s daring me.
I want to push him away, but I clench my fists into balls and step up to him. ‘OK then, say what you like about me, but I’m pretty bloody angry at how you just spoke about my mother. No one has called her a drunk out loud like that and d’you know what? It sounded cruel.’ My words are as hard and unsteady as the ground beneath me. I want to cry so badly, but I won’t let it happen. ‘And … and I’m sorry I embarrassed you in Moloney’s last Saturday night, because that’s the real truth you’re getting at here, isn’t it?’
He kicks the sand with his feet and I know I’m right.
‘But it’s not just your dad holding you back, Liam. It’s you! I mean, it’s pretty pathetic, when you’re as talented as you are, to throw your future away on a career you’re not interested in, just to please him.’
‘Pathetic?’ he says, examining me now with wounded eyes.
I can’t look at him. I go to rescue the poles that have stopped in front of a well placed rock. ‘Sorry, that came out wrong. I just don’t understand why you don’t … follow your heart.’
His hands fly into the air but that doesn’t stop me.
‘I think you’re afraid, Liam.’
He swallows hard. ‘Afraid?’ he asks, aghast.
‘Yes.’
‘You don’t get it. Do you?’ He shouts it at me. ‘Not everyone gets to “follow their heart”. Life’s not some fairy tale, Emerald. Not everyone’s dreams come true.’ He dances around in a circle waving the pole in his hand like he’s mocking me.
I hike back up, dragging the heavy bag behind me and dropping it at his feet. ‘Don’t patronise me. I’m not totally deluded.’
‘Perhaps, but you have to accept you’re in a very privileged minority?’ he says, starting to hammer the last pole into the sand.
‘After everything I’ve told you, you still think I’m … privileged?’
He begins to heave the tent upright. �
�Well, yeah! You are. It’s bred into you … all that opportunity and possibility, go-after-your-dreams shit.’
‘It hurts when you talk like that.’
‘Yeah, well, the truth hurts,’ he says, hurling a small bag of pegs at me, before crouching down on the opposite side. I crouch too, copying him and I thrust a metal skewer into the ground. We each pull at the tent cover on our side, grappling with each other for canvas.
‘Don’t be smart-arsed. Not now.’
‘I’m not. Clichés make people mad because they’re true, Emerald.’
He’s right, I am mad. I’m so angry it’s terrifying: terrifying and exhilarating. ‘I’m not saying it’s untrue, but its suits you to look at only one superficial part of my life and that’s why I’m mad. Your cliché, Liam, is incomplete.’
I’d storm off now only it matters too much. He matters. I matter. This matters. Nothing in my almost-seventeen-years has mattered like this. ‘D’you know something else that’s true?’ I ask, yanking the tension needlessly tight on my side and shoving my last peg into the hard sand. ‘I actually hate you a bit right now.’ I stand up and hammer the hook further in with the heel of my shoe. I have to lean against a rock to steady myself. I’ve never spoken to anyone like this and certainly no one’s spoken to me like he just has either.
He’s moving towards me and I’m scared my quaking legs will give from under me. He’s almost beside me. Our faces are edging closer and I feel that charge again but it’s pulsing between us now. I know my nostrils are flaring and I have a horrible feeling I look like my mum.
‘Well, I hated you a minute ago,’ he says, catching my hand and drawing me gently down to the ground beside him. His heart pulses against my breast. Slowly my splayed ribs settle but the new silence feels dark and endless. I can feel the lingering heat of his breath on my cheek as I try to reorder his words, but my mind is a blender, whisking everything into chaos.
I close my eyes to stop the spinning and then I hear his voice again. ‘I don’t any more though, not really,’ he says, lightly tracing his finger down the length of my face.
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