by Peter Murphy
*
Jacinta went home a week later and by then she could tell, Deirdre was sorry to see her go.
She had spent the last few days taking her grandchildren shopping. The three of them went off on the subway every day to the Eaton Center. It was a bit noisy and busy, but it was the least she could do. Besides, Martin and Grainne loved it. Jacinta bought them whatever they wanted and felt better about things. Doing them a bit of good did her the world of good. And Deirdre needed some time to herself. And as far as Danny was concerned—it was better that they start getting used to being without him.
She thought she saw him flinch when she told him she was leaving, but then he just smirked and shrugged. As long as he had his drink in front of him, he didn’t care.
She thought about him on the plane home too. It was time for Deirdre and the kids to leave him for their own sake’s, but she was worried about what would happen to him after that. If he took the money she had left, he could get a flat somewhere and not end up in the gutter. And, after a few months alone, he might come to his senses. It was probably too late for Deirdre but he could still make things better between him and his kids. It would be work, but it could be done.
Only he’d need help.
The first person she thought about was Fr. Reilly, but he was no good to her now.
And then she remembered that day he became the face of Jesus. People still laughed when she told them, but she had seen it. Right in front of her.
That was it. She’d do whatever had to be done so that some good would happen to Danny. When she got home, she’d go down to the church and have a chat with the Virgin Mary. Then she’d tell Mrs. Flanagan that she was going to take her to Rome so she could pray near the pope.
Jacinta didn’t believe in all that but Mrs. Flanagan still did.
It could only bring good; goodness always did.
*
“I know. I know. It’s just guilt but it just keeps creeping back in. What do you expect from someone who was schooled by nuns?”
“Deirdre, I’m the ex-nun and even I think that’s nonsense. Catholic wives have suffered enough.”
“You’re right, and I know what I have to do. And I will; only I’ll most likely have a few breakdowns along the way.”
“Does his mother know?”
“She does and even she agrees.”
“Well, there you go then.”
“It’s not his mother I worry about.”
“Grainne will be fine. It will be hard on her for a while but you’ll see: in a few months things will look so much better—for everyone.”
“You have no idea what that little girl can get up to in a few months.”
“Deirdre. Get hold of yourself. She’s the child and you’re the adult.”
“Are you trying to tell me that my daughter is spoiled?”
“Yes, but don’t worry; they’re all spoiled these days. I blame ‘girl power.’”
“Miriam? Have you sold out on feminism?”
Miriam hugged her and laughed. “This was not what all those poor bras were burned for.”
They needed to lighten up before the kids got home from school.
*
“I am trying, you know?”
Karl was always difficult to read but Danny knew that whatever he said to him would get back to Deirdre. He didn’t like Karl and he couldn’t stand the ex-nun, but now that they were here, he’d be on his best behavior. He knew he was on thin ice since his mother left.
“How?”
“I’m just sticking to beer.”
“And does that cut it?”
“Look, I’m Irish. For us, cutting back is like other people quitting.”
Karl didn’t smile; he just looked bemused.
“No, I’m serious. I’m going to get it together again. It’s just with my Da dying and all—a lot of unresolved issues, ya know?”
Karl nodded as if he did.
“It’s got me thinking about the way I am with my own kids too.”
Karl just looked at him and Danny couldn’t tell, but decided to pour on a bit more. “I’m going to start making changes. Big changes.”
“Can you do it on your own?”
“I have to. I can’t go back to those meetings. They’re always saying that it’s not about religion but then they’re always going on about God and all. I’ve had enough of all that. This time, I’m going to beat it on my own.”
“Well, I wish you the best.”
It almost sounded like he meant it, but Danny knew better. He and the ex-nun where just waiting for him to fuck-up again so they could persuade Deirdre to throw him out. Sometimes, he wished they would so he could just get it over with. But then he’d think of Grainne. Martin would be delighted to see the back of him but Grainne was still ‘his little girl.’ She’d end up just like the way he was.
He was hanging on for her sake. He was going to tone it down. He’d even talked to the doctor about anti-booze pills, only the doctor wouldn’t give them to him until he stopped. He was going to, in the new year. There was no point now; it would be Christmas in a few months.
He’d have to take it easy, though, and not fuck up like he did every other year. He’d do it for Grainne’s sake.
*
He had just one glass of wine with dinner—turkey with all the fixings.
Deirdre and the kids really got into Thanksgiving. They’d all spent Saturday morning down at the St. Lawrence buying sprouts and cheeses and cranberries and little gourds to decorate with. He used to go with them before, but he hadn’t the last few years. He didn’t think they would have wanted him there anymore.
When they’d finished eating, he helped Deirdre tidy up. They had managed to get back on civil terms but it was just for show. He knew that she despised him—she couldn’t hide it anymore—so they put everything away in a silent ballet. He wished there was something he could do but there wasn’t; she just didn’t believe in him anymore.
He resented her for that and the little flutters of rage fanned old embers smoldering beside the combustible pool of shame that sloshed around inside of him. She was making him pay for his sins, with Miriam and Karl just sitting there, watching them like they were watching a play or something. He was sick and tired of people looking at him like that. They’d been doing it his whole life.
Only when Karl did it, it was like he was looking at something that was dying. The ex-nun just looked right through him like he wasn’t even there anymore.
When they’d finished, he went to check on the kids. Karl had brought them the Lion King video and they were happy, curled across each other on the basement couch, out of earshot. He had a few bottles behind the bar—just in case—but he couldn’t go near them. Even though they were watching the movie, their eyes followed him around.
So he headed back to the kitchen where the ex-nun was going on about Fr. Melchor again. The old coot was being shipped back to the catacombs and she was worried about him. She was saying that he hadn’t been the same since he’d been shot.
There’s a lot of that going around, he whispered to Anto, but he didn’t answer.
He’d been very moody lately, like he was getting exasperated, and that just pissed Danny off a little more. Even the poor fucking ghost who had been sent to haunt him couldn’t stand him anymore.
Fuck the begrudgers. He smiled to himself and hung around the door to the basement.
*
“Are Mammy and Daddy getting a divorce?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why do people get divorced?”
“It’s like the circle of life thing.”
“How?”
“Well first people get married. Then they have kids and then they stop liking each other. Not everyone, just those who get divorced.”
“What happens after a divorce?”
“It’s great. You get to live in two houses and you get two presents, too, for Christmas and your birthday. And daddies have to take their kids to the zoo and s
tuff, more often.”
“How do you know?”
“Some of the guys on the team have parents that got divorced.”
“Do the kids have to be split up?”
“No, silly. Besides, I told you before. I’ll always look after you.”
“Even when I get divorced?”
*
“I couldn’t, Mrs. Boyle. That’s just far too generous.”
They were sipping their sherries in the Yellow House. It was a cold wet day and the church was cold and damp. Fr. Dolan had the heat down so low that when they rose, their knees were aching. Jacinta thought she was going to be in there all day as Mrs. Flanagan checked off her rosary beads, one after the other.
“It’s nothing of the sort. It’s just Jerry’s company is sending me over and I can bring one guest.”
It wasn’t a total lie. She had told Gina all about her plan and even though her sister didn’t seem convinced, she was very enthusiastic.
“Well, it’s still very generous of you, but it wouldn’t feel right.”
“But you have to come with me. Knowing me, I’d only get lost or something and besides, they’d have to hear your prayers there.”
“Well, only if you’re sure.”
“I am. I’ve been reading about it too. All kinds of Irish people have had their hearts buried there.”
“Well that’s nice, but my heart has already been buried.”
Jacinta raised her glass. It wasn’t going to be easy, but it was the least she could do. Besides, she’d find out where Fr. Reilly was and they could have a nice visit. He’d understand what she was trying to do.
20
1996
It hadn’t snowed in a few days but there were still mountains of it piled along the sides of the road, taking up half of the sidewalk and making crossing streets almost impossible. The salters had been busy and pools of brown slush were everywhere.
And it was as cold as fuck. Christmas, New Year’s, and all that went with them had come and gone, taking all joy with them and leaving nothing but bills and remorse. January in Toronto was almost the worst time of the year.
February would be worse though. Cold and dark and each time it would snow, it would have to be piled higher and higher. For a few years, Deirdre used to take pictures of him standing in it for scale, but Danny was getting sick of shoveling the cars out. And it never failed; just as he finished, the plow would come around and block the driveway again.
And he was broke. And there was talk of layoffs. But Deirdre was out of town for the night so he could go ‘off leash’ for a little. He phoned home but had to leave a message. Martin never picked up when he saw it was him.
But at least he’d told them; he was going to stay in the office for an hour to catch up on a few things and they should go ahead and heat something up for themselves and he’d be home soon.
He felt a bit bad about it but it had been a rough day. Since the ‘Common Sense Revolution,’ everyone was scared. It was bad enough that they had to suffer ‘Rae Days,’ but now they were to be sacrificed on the altar of fiscal evangelism. He had seniority but you never knew. At best he would have to do more for less while the wealthy took another tax holiday. It just wasn’t right. This country was made by immigrants coming over and spending their wages. Cutting their wages was going to fuck it all up. Maybe from now on they’re just going to let in people who already have money.
He needed to drop into the Windsor, just for a quick one, to chase away the blahs. He’d only have the one and see who else was prowling around.
*
“Ah, it’s yourself,” Jimmy McVeigh greeted him, cordially but with a hint of suspicion, like he was welcome, but only for a while. “And what will it be?”
“Just gimme a pint there, Jimmy, like a good man.” He really wanted a few whiskies, to ward off the chill, but he knew better. Jimmy had made it very clear the last few times he was in. He had a very good idea of what was going on with Danny and didn’t want him getting drunk there. “Has Frank been in lately?”
“No. We haven’t seen him in a while.”
Danny assumed they had another row but when Jimmy placed the pint in front of him, he leaned so only Danny could hear him. “He’s been laying off it for a while now. Drying out a bit, don’t ya know?”
He looked like he was waiting for some reaction so Danny just raised his pint. “The first since New Year’s.”
It went down a charm, slithering down to where his nerves were all in knots, loosening them and letting him breathe again. But he drank it slowly like he was savoring it and not to seem like he was needing it or anything, even though nobody along the bar was paying much attention.
Most of them, in groups of three or four, were just getting in a few quick ones before facing home. They were the ones that could still manage to enjoy themselves. They’d spent the whole day smiling in the face of shit-storms and they deserved a bit of time before going home and having to face more. They never said stuff like that but Danny knew; they just hadn’t gotten around to getting honest with themselves yet.
He ordered another without thinking, from the barman, but Jimmy looked up from the till at the other end of the bar. Danny pretended he didn’t notice. He’d just have this one and get himself the fuck home. It was too fucking depressing trying to have a drink in public.
He checked his watch before beginning the second one—so they’d all know that he was keeping track of the time. And he’d drink the second one faster. And he’d order a taxi too. There was no point in going back for the car, and the cab would make it all seem more respectable.
He felt better when he thought like that—like he wasn’t such a bollocks after all. Sure he’d had a spot of bother every now and then but he was going to get it all together this time. He’d just have these few and then get ready to start taking the anti-booze. That would show them.
He’d stay on them, too, at least until Paddy’s Day. He’d have to go off them for that, but he could go back on them again and there’d be no harm done.
Mind you, if he didn’t go off them—that would really show them. Then, by the summer, he could have a few beers in the evening and not have everybody making a big deal out of it.
That’s what always drove him back on it—everybody making such a big deal out of nothing. He just liked to sit in the basement and have a few beers while he listened to some decent music. Deirdre and the kids were always listening to shite.
Besides, they were a lot happier without him. He would have fucked off on them only he wasn’t like that. His father had done that to him and there was no way he was ever going to be like that with his own kids. He’d been doing his best for them and, considering the example he’d been given, he wasn’t doing too badly.
Only Martin didn’t see it like that. He was developing a real attitude and Deirdre was letting him get away with it. If it wasn’t for Grainne, Danny would be gone and fuck the pair of them. Nothing he ever did was ever going to be good enough for them.
He thought about having a third but he didn’t. He was feeling good inside and it wasn’t just the booze. He was really going to get a grip this time.
“Not for me,” he announced loudly when the barman stopped in front of him. “I’m going to grab a cab and get myself home to the wife and kids.”
“Goodnight,” Jimmy acknowledged from the other end of the bar.
As he stood outside waiting, Danny thought about Billie and all the times they had together. He never should have left her. That’s why everything went to shit. Not that it was Deirdre’s fault; it’s just that they weren’t really very good together. He and Billie were so much better. They understood each other and accepted each other for what they really were and not what they wanted to become.
That was the thing with Deirdre; everything always had to be improved and then improved again. Life was just one big project after another. She was probably like that because of her work. He’d tried telling her that, but she didn’t even listen to him
anymore. She never really did and had always treated him like a child—an errant one that always needed scolding. But what could he do now? They had made their bed . . .
Still, he’d get his act together if for no other reason but to show them he wasn’t the only problem in their world.
“Bayview and Millwood,” he told the cabbie as he hunched into the back seat. “But I need to stop at the liquor store on the way.”
“There’s one on Church.”
“Great.” He knew it well; it was just around the corner from where he used to live on Jarvis. He was just going to pick up some rye. He had a bottle of coke that he had to finish.
*
After the flight back, Deirdre felt the way she imagined Danny did. A few days in Calgary always made her feel like that. That and being traipsed around the country like a trophy; the bank’s poster-girl. Women, for all the changes, were still a currency.
Toronto had looked nice from the air, but once she landed and retrieved her case, the one with the wonky wheel, and gone outside to wait for a cab in the wind, it felt like desolation.
Danny used to sing that song—the one by Dylan—but she’d never really liked it. She used to say it was because of Dylan’s voice but the truth was she just didn’t like looking at things that way. She got it; she just didn’t see the point. Life was difficult enough. Danny used to say that she was the one in denial and that if she ever really looked at the world, she’d understand what he was going through. “It’s all bullshit,” was his old tired mantra and sometimes she almost agreed with him. But that was the toxicity of his world spilling over and the only way she could stop it was obvious.
She would. She just had to wait until the right time.
Was there ever a good time to break up a marriage?
She’d called again before she left the airport but no one picked up. She was getting anxious.