by A. S. Kelly
that. I miss her, of course I do, but my father never
had me want for anything and we have so many
things in common.
Nate and I met at university. He’s getting his
doctorate in biology. We fell in love, spending
nights at the library studying, and going to
conventions. Ours is an intellectual love, if you
want to know the plain truth. I went to live in his
apartment when my dad decided to leave. We
rented our house in Malahide and I went to live in
Whitehall, just a few steps from my building, but I
continued working here three nights a week,
despite the inconvenience of having to travel. It’s
partly because I like being independent, having an
income and showing my father I’m not the spoiled
child he thinks I am, and also because I guess I’ve
grown to like this place, the guys, Rain,
everything.
I open the pub door when I realize I’ve only got
last night’s socks on my feet. Brrr, I hope
somebody cleaned up after I left. I try not to think
about it and take a few steps towards the counter
where the coffee machine is calling me. I grab a
filter off the top shelf and prepare the coffee when
I hear something banging against the back door. I
jump and the coffee pot drops to the ground,
shattering and making an awful noise.
Perfect. If I had wanted to hide, at this point it
would be impossible.
I take a deep breath and grab the first thing that
I can, which happens to be an empty bottle of
Jameson which was left on the counter. I slowly
creep towards the door leading to the back with the
bottle raised over my head, when I hear someone
cursing. I peek out just as far as necessary to see a
figure with his back to me. He’s wearing a leather
jacket and has a shaved head and he’s rubbing the
back of his neck. I let out my sigh and lower the
bottle.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, coming out
of the shadows with my hands on my hips.
Patrick jumps in the air and lands with his hand
on his heart, afraid.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” he yells
with a sleepy, drunk, and who knows what else
kind of voice.
“A bit early to open, isn’t it?” I ask pointedly.
“And don’t you have a house?” he retorts,
eyebrow raised in challenge.
It’s always like this between us. We always bait
each other and say the worst things, but working
here with him is nice and can even be relaxing
somehow. When he’s working here the nights go
by quickly and my head is free from heavy
thoughts.
“I slept here,” I say, crossing my arms over my
chest. “Rain said I could stay.”
He relaxes his glance just slightly.
“I came to get my keys. Last night I went home
with … well, I was out and I forgot my keys here
and I didn’t want to go home and wake everyone
up. It’s only six o’clock for God’s sake.”
“And you couldn’t stay where you were and
sleep a little more?”
“I never stay the whole night,” he says,
winking.
“Well, I was about to make the coffee, but I was
so scared I dropped the coffee pot…”
“There’s another one in the back.”
“I’ll buy another one.”
“Bullshit,” he says, moving his hand as if to say
‘it’s nothing’. “Who gives a shit about a stupid
coffee pot?”
“Are you always so pleasant in the morning or
are you only vulgar and base…”
“Gimme a break, I didn’t have an easy night.”
“Oh, I can imagine,” I reply, feeling a bit hurt
for no particular reason.
“It’s just I have a headache and I should have
come in a taxi because I drank a lot last night and I
didn’t feel like riding my motorcycle.”
I nod in approval of his choice. We all know
how things ended up the last time after one of the
brothers got behind the wheel after drinking too
much. Neil died because of it.
“I’ll go in back and get the pot and make some
coffee for both of us.”
He tilts his head slightly, giving me a dubious
look.
“What?” I ask. “You have this look like you’ve
got a jackhammer in your head. I almost feel sorry
for you.”
“Thanks,” he says, looking at me suspiciously.
“Sit down, I’ll make the coffee and try to round
up those two aspirins I saw somewhere. They
should be in the emergency kit in the employee
bathroom.”
He nods and takes a seat at the bar, letting his
head fall as I go back to find that coffee pot.
The last thing I need this morning is dealing
with a nasty, hungover Patrick.
Patrick
“Did he dump you?” I ask, while Erin’s back is
turned to me as she makes the coffee.
Last night I really exaggerated. I do it often, but
last night … I don’t know, maybe I needed to blow
off steam after my mom’s phone call. I just wanted
to forget about my problems for one night. And I
did.
I drank with that little blonde that spent the
whole night shooting me elusive glances to which
I promptly responded by biting the piercing in my
lip. I’ve come to understand it drives the ladies
crazy, and rightly so because they can’t even
imagine with that little piece of metal can do in
certain moments.
And I drank more than a little to tell the truth.
So much that I can’t remember leaving here, going
to her house—how did we get there? I certainly
don’t remember sleeping with her. I think I passed
out as soon as I hit the mattress. This morning just
after six, I woke up with a splitting headache and
some nasty nausea.
I left without even telling her. Outside her place
I was lucky to find a solitary taxi. I realized I
didn’t have my keys with me and so I came here
where, fortunately, I had also left my motorcycle.
I didn’t plan on meeting daddy’s little girl.
“Jesus, Patrick, do you always have to be such
an asshole?” she yells without even turning to look
at me.
What’d I say? I always talk shit, but she should
be used to it by now.
I won’t deny being an asshole, it’s true. Erin is
completely right. I always have been and I don’t
hide it. I want people to know what they’re getting,
especially women, because I can’t be an asshole to
my friends.
Me and the guys have been living here for just
over two years since Rain lost her memory in a
terrible accident in which her boyfriend, Neil,
died. She’s doing better now and is happy. It’s all
thanks to that asshole Liam.
Whoever would have thought that after ten
years he would have
finally confessed to be in love
with her?
Liam is Neil’s brother. Rain and Neil were
together practically their whole lives, since they
were kids, but Liam was always in love with her,
from the first day he saw her, it’s just … well, it
took him a while to man up and tell her and even
longer to come home and take care of her.
I was angry with him for a long time. After the
accident our band’s musical prospects stopped
dead, but he struck out on his own, signing a
record contract that was originally offered to us
and making a success of it.
But then it happened. He came back. He found a
way to get forgiveness and we’re finally all
together again, without Neil of course. We’ll
always miss him, but we’re still here and it’s right
that we keep going down our road while never
forgetting him.
I try to guide them but fuck … no one ever
listens to me. I think if people stopped torturing
themselves about the past and just lived in the
present, thinking about what they feel now,
everything would be a lot simpler.
See, I’m an outsider, if I can define myself as
such. I have zero sentimental tendencies. I am able
to see over their noses and to understand before
they do what it is they are feeling, what they are
afraid of and what they’re running from. Call it my
sixth sense. And it’s thanks to this gift I have that
I’m able to avoid a noose around my neck or a
spike in my tire: I’m free and I’m happy.
I’m doing great and nothing and no one could
ever take away this feeling of being able to do
anything I want.
Is that what makes me an asshole?
Depends on your point of view, but in all
sincerity, I don’t really care what people think of
me. I have my family and this ‘acquired’ family of
mine, with Aaron, Jay, Liam and Rain.
And I’m fine.
Nothing could ever upset me; nothing could
ever make me change my ideas.
Nothing and no one.
My parents had six kids. My father decided to
take off when my little brother Danny was just two
years old. I was fifteen at the time and I remember
very well what life was like with him. He never
had a stable job. He wasn’t able to hold one down
for more than two months at a time and so we
never had enough of anything at home, whether it
was food or clothes, and not to mention other
things that aren’t strictly necessary to get along.
Six children, for Christ’s sakes, what the hell
were they thinking? Don’t misunderstand me; I
wouldn’t want to put any one of my siblings back
where they came from. I love all the members of
my family and I thank my mother every day for
what she did for us, but I’d never make that kind
of choice.
My parents got married really young because of
me. My mother was pregnant and they got married
thinking they were doing the right thing. Then the
others arrived, one after the other, and with them
came money problems and everything went to hell.
My father was a womanizer, unable to think of
anyone else but himself. That’s where I got my
moral principles from.
Luckily, two years after he walked out, my mom
met Carl, a good man who is divorced and
childless who was able to make her happy and give
back a bit of normal living to us all.
We always lived in the same house on Pearse
Street, four boys sharing one room with two bunk
beds in a few square meters and the two girls
sharing the only other room available.
My mom and Carl have slept on the couch for at
least six years. They gave up their room for my
sisters and could not afford a bigger and more
expensive house.
Carl works at the Guinness Storehouse and my
mom works part-time in a bakery on Mary Street
because she still has children to raise.
So basically, it was a shit sandwich. We were
never without anything, especially since Carl has
been with us but I have to be honest: at Christmas,
when we got one gift for all of us to share, it’s not
the greatest. It’s not that we didn’t understand, we
k n e w a l l t o o w e l l w h a t t h e e c o n o m i c
circumstances were and we weren’t upset because
we didn’t have more. What really sucked was
seeing Mom and Carl’s faces, their expressions of
worry and humiliation because they couldn’t give
us any more than that.
Carl is a simple man, but strong and reassuring,
and with him at home life certainly wasn’t bad.
My younger brothers who didn’t know my father
well, call him Dad. It’s a bit more complicated
than that for me. I was already an angry child
when he came to our house, but with patience and
respect he was able to gain my trust and my
affection.
On the other hand, he’s a man who was willing
to load up six kids that weren’t his on his back and
carry them all. How many guys would have done
something like that? He’s got all my respect. He’s
a man to be admired, someone you can always rely
on.
I left home at an early age to lighten the burden
and make space for the others, but I miss them. I
miss the chaos at dinnertime. I miss sitting on the
carpet, us all watching a film together. I miss my
mother’s hugs.
I’m a thirty-year-old man by now, but that
doesn’t mean I can’t miss the affection of my
family, even if at dinnertime I frequently, and
happily, told them that I had already eaten out
because I didn’t want them to eat less on my
account.
I’ve always worked, in the pub, in a factory or a
café. I left school early and took care of myself the
best I could and of the rest of my family whenever
it was possible. I’m proud of all of them, and if it’s
not too much to add, I’m proud of myself too. I’ve
understood, thanks to experience, that I absolutely
do not want to make that kind of choice for myself,
being tied to someone forever and putting yourself
in a position to have to be selfless, renouncing
everything to make the person next to you happy.
Am I selfish? No, I’m realistic.
I am myself, in all of my raw truth.
Love destroys everything.
Love destroys you.
Relationships are destined to wear out and break
down, leaving you with no money, no soul and
without a fucking heart. And I’ll tell you one thing:
I don’t want to know what that feels like.
Erin turns to me and sets down a steaming cup
of coffee, keeping her eyes cast downward. It’s
then that I realize that she’s crying.
Okay, I hate this kind of thing, women crying. I
know they need to vent their feelings
and that
you’re supposed to console them. What am I
supposed to do here? Pretend I don’t notice?
I clear my throat and give it a shot.
“Do you want to…”
And by means of an answer she runs in the
opposite direction, taking refuge in the upstairs
apartment.
Am I supposed to run after her?
Nah, it’s not like me. I do what I’m best at.
Minding my own business.
I drink my coffee and then go home and sleep
and forget about this strange morning, her tears
and her scared eyes.
2
Erin
“Three more pints at table twelve, Erin!”
“I’m on my way,” I reply, annoyed at Jay’s
request although it isn’t his fault I’m in a bad
mood.
“Is everything alright?” he asks right away.
Jay always worries about everyone.
“Yeah, I’m just tired.”
“Take a break.”
“It’s not necessary, really.”
“Take ten minutes. It’s not some advice I’m
giving you, it’s an order.” His tone does not allow
me to refuse.
I set down the tray that I was about to bring to
the table and head for the exit. I need a breath of
fresh air. I feel exhausted and my thoughts are so
far from here.
I open the door and a wave of frigid air strikes
me full-on. I forgot to bring my jacket. I hug
myself and turn to go back in when a voice I just
am not in the mood to hear calls out:
“Erin.”
I let out a sigh and unwillingly turn around.
“What are you doing here, Nate?” I ask him.
“We have to talk and you’re not taking my
calls.”
“We don’t have anything to say.”
“You took off into thin air without giving me
time to explain.”
“And what would you like to explain? Let’s
hear it!” I challenge him, raising my voice.
“Try to understand, it all happened so fast, I
wasn’t expecting anything like that to happen.”
“And you think perhaps that I was expecting
it?”
“That’s not what I’m trying to say … shoot. It
seems like I always say the wrong thing.”
“Maybe it’s better not to talk.”
“Erin…”
“Nate, our relationship was already coming to a
head and you know it. We hardly spoke anymore.”
Nate lets out a deep sigh and moves towards
me, resting his back against the wall of the pub.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t want it to happen.”