Breakaway

by Deirdre Martin

  “Good for you,” said Erin. She liked Esa. She got the sense that for whatever reason, he didn’t want people to know he had any emotional depth.

  “And you?” Esa inquired. “Are you having a good time?”

  The question took her aback. She had to think about it. “Not in the sense you are, larking about and all that. But I’m having a good time in that I’m back with the man I love, and hopefully, I’ll eventually be doing the thing I love. It’s been a long time coming.”

  “Don’t tell Rory I said this, but he’s very lucky to have you.”

  “Yes, I know.” They both laughed.

  “I look forward to getting to know you better, Erin, when we’re all in America.”

  “Me, too, Esa.”

  “Now let me make you some eggs, Finnish style. But I promise: no reindeer sausage.”

  32

  “Still being a stubborn old bat.”

  Erin and Sandra, who had baby Gina on her lap, were sitting in the field behind Saint Columba’s school, the one that served as the playground when school was in session. Oona was jumping rope with three friends on the small strip of blacktop running beneath the classroom windows. LJ was at a friend’s house. Lucy was earning a few bob helping San’s mother clean her house.

  Despite her better judgment, Erin had asked Sandra if her mother had mentioned her at all. She thought: she had to have, even if it was just to casually ask Sandra if she was okay. But she hadn’t.

  Sandra adjusted the straw hat on her head. She told Erin that she’d just read an article on the damage direct sunshine could do to your face, the way it could age you. She didn’t want to wind up looking like a shar-pei when she was old.

  “Look,” she continued, “I can tell she’s dyin’ to ask about you. She’ll say, ‘Sandra,’ and then she’ll pause and say, ‘Nothing. Forget it,’ and walk away. I think it’s killin’ her, this rift. Same as it’s killing you.”

  “It’s not killing me!” Erin protested.

  “Oh, give over. How long have I known you? Differences or not, you love her to death.”

  “It’s not killing me; it’s hurting me, more than I thought it would. Is she really willing to let me go off to America without mending things?”

  “Have you talked to your da?”

  “Yeah, on the sly. You’d think we were having an affair, he’s so tense on the phone. Even though he usually rings from work.”

  “What does he say?”

  “Same as you, but nicer. That she’s stubborn, she’s always been stubborn, and I should know that. Honestly, sometimes I don’t know how he’s stuck it for this long.”

  “Love, maybe?”

  “Oh, listen to the great romantic here.”

  Erin took Gina onto her lap, then reached into Sandra’s oversized shoulder bag for a comb. Gina loved it when Erin brushed her fine, short hair.

  “You should come round bath time,” said Sandra, watching Erin and her daughter. “Screams like she’s being murdered when I try to comb her hair.”

  “That’s ’cause you’re her mam,” replied Erin in a stage whisper. “My combing her hair is special.”

  “I’ll try to remember that next time I’m worried the garda are going to bust into my house because they think I’m killin’ me own child.”

  Erin’s gaze drifted to Oona and her friends jumping rope. “Did we ever jump rope? I can’t remember.”

  “I think we did, for a short while, with that mad little witch, Amy MacFadyen. But then we stopped, remember, because her mam went all Jehovah’s Witness-y, and she told us we were going to burn in the fires of hell if we didn’t convert.”

  “I remember now.” She gently ran the comb through Gina’s bangs. “A lot of hell talk.”

  “It was big in those days, hell. Now kids think hell is having their phones taken away.”

  “Suppose you’re right.”

  Erin closed her eyes, letting the breeze play over her face. “I can’t believe summer’s almost over.”

  “I can’t believe you’ll be leaving soon.”

  The catch in her friend’s voice prompted Erin to open her eyes. Tears were welling up in Sandra’s eyes, which could cause a chain reaction. Erin clenched her jaw tight, the only way she knew to hold tears back. She was afraid if she gave in to it, they’d sit there like two weeping fools and scare Gina. “It’s not like I’ll never be back,” she pointed out to Sandra. “And maybe you can come over for a visit.”

  “Oh, right. And how am I going to do that? Ask Peter Pan if I can cadge a ride on his back?”

  Gina began to whine, and Erin put the clip Sandra had brought along in her hair. “Maybe you and Jake could come over together.”

  “Knew that was coming.”

  “Well?”

  “Well, what?”

  “Last night was quite the about-face.”

  “Tell me about it.” Sandra took a bite of her biscuit. “It made me feel weird all over. We’ve been hanging out, yeah, but now, to hear him say he wants to see me…I don’t know.”

  “He’s a good bloke.”

  “Question.” Sandra seemed mildly vexed. “Why was it all right for you to say, ‘Oh, Jake, no way, I can’t think of him that way,’ but I can’t?”

  “Because I never fell out of love with Rory. And because Jake and I never wanted the same things.” She nudged Sandra in the ribs. “You liked Jake warning Esa off you. Admit it.”

  “It was a little flattering,” Sandra conceded.

  “You two looked dead cozy by the end of the night.”

  “We were both a bit tipsy.”

  “Right.”

  “Listen, Erin: whatever happens with me and Jake, I’m not leapin’ into it. I’ve got to get my family and myself sorted first.”

  “Unless he properly courts you,” Erin replied with a wicked grin.

  “Christ, I should have run far and fast from you in Infant school while I still had the chance.” San eyed Erin with affection. “I say this with nothing but love: time for you to butt out.”

  “I’m butting, I’m butting,” Erin promised. She knew San as well as she knew herself: if Jake kept on it, Sandra would fold pretty fast. She was desperate for respect and companionship. Jake would give her both, and more.

  A cry rose up from Oona, and both she and Sandra tuned in immediately. “What’s up, sweet?” Sandra called. “You skin your knee?” Oona nodded. “C’mere, then, and I’ll stick a plaster on it, and you can go right back to playing.” She turned to Erin, shaking her head. “It’s something every minute.”

  “Yeah, and you love it.”

  Sandra cocked her head thoughtfully. “You know, I do. Jesus wept, listen to me; do you hear me? I’m starting to sound like someone who’s happy.”

  “You deserve it, San.”

  “And so do you.”

  33

  “I don’t know why you want me to come along.” Erin and Sandra were in perfect step as they headed down to the Oak. Sandra was meeting Jake for a drink, and she wanted Erin along so she could “objectively” assess Jake’s level of infatuation. Erin thought it was a foregone conclusion, but Sandra was so insistent, and so excited, that Erin couldn’t turn her down.

  She wished Rory were here. The minute Esa had left two weeks ago, he’d packed his things and gone up to Dundalk, where there was a rink. Esa’s level of fitness had jarred him. because it showed Rory how much he himself had slacked off. He told Erin he’d be skating every day until his legs turned into rubber and his muscles screamed for mercy. He refused to start training camp with even the slightest hint of physical weakness.

  “Now here’s what you look for,” Sandra instructed, sidestepping a melted ice cream cone on the pavement. “If his eyes dart away when I’m talking, that’s not good. It means I’m boring the teeth off him and his mind is elsewhere. But if his eyes hold mine, then he’s truly keen.”

  “Sandra, you already know he’s truly keen. Besides, that’s just common sense you’re spouting. It’s no
t unique to romantic relationships.”

  “Just do what I say, right?”

  “I’m on it, bossy pants.”

  Sandra was always buoyant on Friday nights: that’s when she got her wages. Erin had given up asking how her mother was. Erin thought that with each passing day, the pain she was feeling would abate just a tiny amount. In fact, the opposite was true: her mother’s silence ate at her more and more, a gnawing pain she couldn’t contain.

  “You’re buying the first two rounds, right?” Erin teased as the pub came into view. Sandra was proud to be able to contribute more to the bar tab than in the past. Who paid for what didn’t matter to Erin either way. The important thing was that San was happy.

  “Christ, I hope that Jarlath Fields isn’t in there.” Sandra groaned. “You know, that gooey-eyed slip of a thing who’s helping out Grace at the greengrocer? Caught him looking at my arse the other day.”

  “He’s quite the arse man, from what I hear.”

  “Man?” Sandra chortled. “He’s twenty if he’s a day. He’d best watch himself: if I catch his eyes going southward again, he’ll find his voice going up three octaves. I’ll take my mam’s cricket bat to him.”

  “I can’t believe Jack and Bettina still have it behind the bar.”

  “Mam doesn’t need it now that Larry’s gone.”

  “Too true.” And the gobshite better not come back.

  They pulled open the pub door. It took Erin a split second to process the shouts of “congratulations” being blasted her way. But then she realized: it was a surprise graduation party. And there, standing smack-dab in the middle of the crowd, grinning at her like a fool, was Rory.

  “I…” She was gobsmacked. Truly. Sandra was beside herself with excitement.

  “You really didn’t suspect a thing? Truly? Not even a beensy-weensy bit?”

  “Why would I?”

  “A Black Velvet and an Academy Award for me,” Sandra shouted out to Rory. She gave Erin a friendly push. “Go on. Give your man a big, wet, sloppy kiss. He’s the one that put this thing together.”

  Erin threw her arms around Rory’s neck amid cheers and whistles, the soundtrack to so many pub events. “I can’t believe you did this!”

  “Why? Am I that bad of a fiancé?”

  “Don’t be daft.” Erin’s eyes were swimming in tears. “No one’s ever done anything like this for me before. Ever.”

  Rory was beaming. “As soon as the idea struck me, I knew I had to do it.” He crushed her to him. “I’m so proud of you, macushla.”

  “Thank you,” Erin whispered.

  “Okay, enough of this ‘Oh, boo-hoo, I love you, Rory’ claptrap,” called Old Jack. “I don’t know about anyone else here, but I’m in the mood for one feck of a party.” The roar of approval was near deafening. “By the way, it’s an open bar, courtesy of Wayne Gotti over here.” He pointed to Rory.

  “I think you mean Wayne Gretzky,” Rory corrected.

  “Gotti, Gretzky—who gives a damn? All I care about is that our girl knows how proud we are of her. The bar is officially open.”

  * * *

  The liquor flowed and there was no pause in the laughter. After playing a string of traditional Irish tunes, the band decided it was time to play Cliff Richard’s classic “Congratulations,” a staple in the UK and Ireland for over forty years. Everyone in the pub joined in. Erin couldn’t count how many times she’d sung that song at birthdays, wedding receptions, engagement parties, communion parties, and baptism parties. Everyone seemed disappointed when the song came to an end.

  “God, I love that song,” Sandra said with a sigh, looking at Erin fondly. “D’you remember when my gran learned to play it on the uke?”

  “I do. And I remember your granddad breaking it in two because he couldn’t take it anymore. It was the only song she knew.”

  “Never tried anything musical again, my gran.”

  Everyone at the table laughed. Erin beamed at Rory. “I know I’m starting to sound like a broken record, but this is dead brilliant. You must’ve pulled it together pretty fast.”

  “Simple as pie,” Rory boasted. “One call to Bettina and the whole town knew within a day.”

  “Things like this. I’ll miss them.”

  “People do get to know each other in New York, you know. Sometimes whole groups of them.”

  “Don’t be cheeky.” Erin glanced about. “I wonder where Aislinn and Liam are.”

  “Liam said they’ll be along soon. Said Aislinn is feeling a bit under the weather.”

  Erin felt a surge of excitement. “Maybe she’s—?”

  “Don’t ask me. And don’t ask her, either. If she is, she’ll tell us in her own good time.”

  Erin felt her eyes welling up again. “No one’s ever thrown me a party before.”

  “I’d dispute you there,” said Sandra. “Your parents threw you a sweet sixteen party.”

  Embarrassed, Erin covered her mouth with her hand. “God, you’re right.”

  “I was upset I couldn’t be there because it was during the school year, remember?” said Rory.

  “I can’t believe I forgot.”

  “Cut yourself some slack,” said Rory. “You’ve a lot on your mind right now—including planning our wedding.”

  Erin’s pulse skipped. “Can I assume—”

  “As soon as we figure out our schedules, you can ring Father Bill so we can secure a date.”

  Erin leaned over, hugging him tight. “You’re the best.”

  “Whatever the bride wants, right?”

  “Where should we go on our honeymoon?” Erin asked breathlessly.

  “Hey, let’s nail the wedding plans down first.”

  “Go troppo,” Sandra suggested.

  Erin looked at Rory hopefully. “I have always wanted to go troppo, you know.”

  “Yes, I do know. Sometimes I think I remember more things about you than you do!”

  “I wouldn’t be surprised.” Erin rose. “Be back in a mo’.”

  She felt a bit wobbly, making her way to the loo. It was from the champers. Erin liked the way the bubbles sometimes tickled her nose as it went down, and it went down a lot smoother than she expected. She had a nice buzz on. It felt good.

  Christ, don’t let the loo be crowded. She hated standing there in a line with her bladder filling. But maybe it was just her night all round: there was no line as she pushed open the bathroom door.

  Her mam was leaning close to the mirror above the sink, applying her signature coral lipstick.

  Erin’s feet were nailed to the floor. If someone pushed open the door behind her, she’d be hit squarely in the ass and find herself sprawled on the cracked tile floor. Her mother caught sight of her and halted mid lipstick application. Erin saw her hand trembling as she put the lipstick back in her purse. Erin waited, pulse pounding away in her throat. Finally, her mother slowly walked toward her.

  “I am so, so sorry, lamb,” she whispered, holding her arms out. “Please forgive me.”

  Erin burst into tears and flew into her mam’s arms.

  “I love you so much,” her mother continued, choking up. “Stupid, that’s what I am. Missin’ out on all this time with you.” She pulled back, pressing her lips softly to Erin’s forehead. “You can’t imagine how much I’ve missed you. I’ve been kicking myself for being a fool, but you know me: I’m a stubborn old nag.”

  Erin hiccupped, trying to slow her tears.

  “One day your father said to me that I’d better think hard about the stand I’d taken, because you’d be off to America soon, and that’d make it harder than ever to patch things up. Then he pointed out what a pity it would be, me missing your wedding and all. That did it: my stupidity came rushing back and bit me on the arse. It said, ‘You’d better go to her, Bridget, or you’re going to lose your girl.’ So here I am.”

  Erin swiped at her eyes. “I’m so glad. You don’t know. This thing was killing me.”

  “Me, too. God, the tears. And
still I wouldn’t bend. ‘Pride goeth before a fall’—isn’t that what it says in the Bible? Well, I fell, all right. I just hope you can forgive me.”

  Erin took a tissue out of her pocket and dabbed at her mother’s wet eyes. “How you could ever think I wouldn’t forgive you is a mystery to me.”

  “I haven’t been the most pleasant creature to be around.”

  “I know.”

  Her mother looked caught off guard, then smiled. “It’s all going to be good from now on, Erin, I promise you that. I can’t wait to help you plan your wedding—that is, if you don’t mind.”

  “You can help,” Erin warned, “but—”

  “I know, don’t go criticizing and that. So help me God, I won’t.”

  “Good.” Erin paused. “How’d you get in here without anyone seeing you?”

  “People did see me. I just walked in as if it was no big deal and no one seemed to give a toss. Except Bettina. She was right on my tail comin’ in here. I told her to please keep her gob shut about it until I’d talked to you. Now that things worked out the way I hoped they would, she’ll be grabbin’ a megaphone to tell the whole world.”

  “Where’s Da?”

  “Driving Mr. Russell to see his sister in Clifden, since his car is in the shop. Apparently she’s got a nice place on the Sky Road. They fight like cats and dogs, though. It’ll be a miracle if he lasts the weekend.”

  “I can’t believe Da’s letting Mr. Russell’s bony arse cheeks touch the seat of his car.”

  “I know. But sometimes people can surprise us, no?”

  Erin smiled happily. “They can. And when it’s the people you love, that’s the best.”

  Erin and Rory were snuggled up tight in Erin’s room at Liam and Aislinn’s. The party had run very late—three a.m.—but everyone seemed to enjoy it right down to the last minute. Erin was sure Jack would have kept the Oak open all night if people wanted, but seeing as three was way past the legal time for last call, keeping it open till the sun began peeping through the windows would have been pushing his luck a bit.