Friends Like Us

by Siân O'Gorman

  46

  Eilis

  Eilis was waiting for the delivery of a new sofa. She had gone to Ikea and had chosen the softest, squishiest and most comfortable sofa in the shop. She had practised the various positions she might be in: the full recline when watching TV, the cross-legged perch when eating tea and toast and, of course, the relaxed, casual normal sitting-on-a-sofa pose. It had passed all the tests with flying colours. She had just waved off the Rob’s old one which she was giving away to a good home. An architect couple turned up to collect it, delighted with their new sofa.

  Eilis had even bought some cushions for it, adding to the one Steph had bought her. And a rug. Immediately the house seemed more like somewhere she felt she belonged.

  A knock on the door. She wondered who it was. The architect couple returning the sofa saying that they had changed their minds and it was way too uncomfortable.

  Standing there, with a full hipster beard, was Rob. ‘Hi,’ he said. Eilis gaped at him in shock.

  Eilis mouthed an inaudible response and looked at him with wide eyes. It was like seeing a ghost. She had heard nothing from him in months.

  ‘Where have you been?’ she managed.

  ‘Staying with friends.’ He looked awkward.

  ‘But…’

  ‘Eilis?’

  She looked at him.

  ‘Eilis, I’m here to say sorry.’

  ‘Okay… so you’ve said it. I’ve heard you. And that’s all grand.’ She went to close the door but he pushed it open.

  ‘Eilis… look, I’m so, so sorry. But I had no choice.’

  ‘No choice? It seems very clear that you chose to leave.’

  ‘Can I come in? Please? I want to explain.’

  She stood back and let him pass. She’d begun the process of moving on but she did deserve an explanation, she figured. She was still curious what happened. Rob walked into the kitchen, looking around at his old house, taking in the changes.

  ‘It’s nice to be back.’

  She glared at him. He wasn’t coming back, if that’s what he thought. She had just begun thinking that she was moving on, making the place her own. ‘What do you want Rob?’

  He looked at her, sadly. ‘Listen… I… it’s just… I don’t know how to explain this, any of it.’

  ‘Just try,’ she said. ‘If you want to tell me.’

  He cleared his throat. ‘Eilis, you have always been my best friend, since we met, it was great. I love you, I loved our life together but…’

  ‘But what? You met someone else, someone more attractive than me? Someone better?’

  ‘Kind of.’

  She didn’t expect him to say that, so for a moment she felt winded. She turned slowly to look at him. And there was Rob, totally disarmed, so unlike the smooth, in-control Rob she knew. For a moment, she saw the young boy from Ennis she had met more than two decades ago. He was still there, he’d never gone away… he’d just been hidden.

  Eilis broke the silence: ‘So, who is she?’

  ‘He.’

  ‘He?’

  ‘Yes, he.’ Rob looked at her, imploring her to understand.

  She looked confused. ‘He?’ she said again.

  ‘He.’ He coughed, trying to clear his throat. ‘I’m gay. Always have been. Just hoped I wasn’t. And then I met you and, at first, for ages, I thought I was straight and I was just so relieved. But I hadn’t stopped being gay because I met you. I was. I am. And I can’t deny it any longer. It’s been killing me.’

  ‘You’re gay?’ she said, trying to take it in. ‘As in gay?’

  He nodded. ‘I thought I could just pretend I wasn’t, that sex wasn’t important. I thought I could ignore it and everything would be okay. But I couldn’t.’ He stopped. ‘May I have a drink of water, please?’

  She reached for a glass. This was something she hadn’t even considered for a moment. She realized she had been stupid to have missed all the signs. Of course! But why hadn’t he told her, it could have saved years of her life. She turned on the tap and handed the glass over

  ‘Thank you.’ He drank it down. ‘About four years ago, I actually realized I couldn’t live like this. I wanted to be seen, to be real. I wanted the world to know who I was. I wanted to be visible, not hiding away. It’s the most basic of feelings. I want the world to know who I truly am. But the thought of hurting you, of… coming out, of being me, was horrifying.’ He stopped. ‘But I knew I had to do it. I just didn’t make a very good job of it.’

  ‘No, you didn’t. It was quite brutal.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I thought I was going to either crack up.’ He stopped unable to speak anymore.

  ‘So…’ Eilis prompted.

  ‘So, I began going online… to different sites and talking to people. Men.’ He sipped his tea. ‘Men like me. Men in marriages, men in denial, unhappy, lonely men, like me.’

  ‘So, you decided to do all of this without breathing a single word to the woman with whom you shared your life and home. Why didn’t you tell me twenty-one years ago? My whole life! My whole adult life has been dominated by this relationship, which I now discover was entirely a lie. Your selfishness, your need for secrecy has meant that I’ve wasted two whole decades!’

  ‘I am so sorry. I really am.’

  ‘Jesus Christ, Rob! How could you?’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ He looked down.

  ‘So, where’ve you been staying?’ She spoke more gently now, as she realized how sad he was. It wasn’t easy, obviously, to admit his true self.

  ‘With Michael.’

  ‘Is he gay too?’ she said softly.

  Rob nodded.

  ‘Right,’ she said. ‘Are you two… you know? Are you together?’

  He nodded again. Eilis wondered about protocol in situations like this, should she throw something? One of his silly angular mugs, perhaps. Or boil the remote-controlled kettle dry?

  ‘So why are you here now?’

  ‘To collect my things… and to explain to you.’

  ‘In that order?’

  ‘No. Not, in that order. Please Eilis, come on…’

  ‘Why should I?’

  ‘Because… because I am sorry. I made a mistake.’

  He was right, it had been a mistake, their whole life together had been fake and unreal. Theirs hadn’t been a relationship, it was barely companionship. She liked him and he liked her but not enough, never enough, to blend their lives, to marry, to have a child, all of those things she had never allowed herself to dream of but she had wanted. And now it was probably too late for her.

  ‘A child would have been nice,’ she said looking out of the window... She felt as though her heart was being constricted, squeezed into a tiny ball. It was a physical pain.

  ‘It’s not too late.’

  ‘Easy for you to say, Rob,’ she said, feeling her voice break. ‘Off for your new life. It’s so easy. You change your mind. I’ve decided I’m gay, sorry everyone!’ He voice was rising to a pitch now. ‘But you don’t have a biological bloody clock, do you. Convenient that! I do though. I’m nearly thirty-nine, Rob. I have given up so much for you – so fucking much.’ She looked at him meaningfully and he looked down at his lap. ‘And this! This is how you repay me.’

  And breathe. She calmed herself. If only she had paid more attention at the yoga class she took years ago, she might have been able to do alternate nostril breathing or whatever it was, and not lost her equilibrium in the first place.

  But she suddenly realized she felt relieved. All the uncertainty was over. She didn’t have to think about Rob ever again, if she didn’t want to. She always knew, deep down, that they weren’t right for each other. Now, she could move forward. The photo of her mother was on the windowsill. She wondered what she would make of it or what she would say. Brigid was a woman who always gave people the benefit of the doubt, who was forgiving and loving. Brigid would have seen the good in Rob, she thought. It must have been so difficult for him to keep the pretence going a
ll these years. But he’d done it now, better later than never.

  ‘Sorry,’ he said again and this time she shrugged. What was done was done.

  ‘I forgive you,’ she said.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I forgive you.’ She felt free. It was a wonderful feeling, not scary at all. ‘You are an eejit, though. You might have saved me years of trouble had you bothered to come out before.’

  ‘Tell me about it.’ He placed his hand over hers and squeezed it.

  ‘I’m seeing someone too.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Well, a counsellor,’ Eilis laughed. ‘You know my mum… I never did quite talk about it enough…’ she trailed off.

  ‘That sounds like a good idea. You’re very brave, Eilis. That was one of the things I most loved about you.’

  ‘Loved?’

  ‘Love.’ He smiled at her.

  ‘Loved is better. But thank you for trying to save my feelings.’

  ‘Listen, may I have a cup of tea? Please? I’m gasping.’

  She stood up and began filling the kettle.

  ‘By the way,’ she said. ‘Make sure you take your kettle with you when you go. I’m going out to buy a new one this afternoon. One that doesn’t require a gadget just to have a cup of tea.’

  47

  Steph

  It was to be the first Christmas without Nuala, the first time Steph wouldn’t be buying her a present. A festive frenzy had descended on Dublin, madness was in the air, and it was the seemingly small things that stopped Steph in her tracks these days. It seemed so wrong not to buy Nuala something. She left Grafton Street and began walking down Nassau Street. At the National Gallery she paused and looked through the big doors. She used to love this place, spend all her time here, going for lectures, sketching some of her favourite paintings, meeting friends in the café. She hadn’t been here for years. And to think that for all this time, it had been here and she had forsaken it.

  She pushed open the doors. At last, here was somewhere she could breathe. The high ceilings, the quiet hush, it was soothing and reassuring after the bedlam of outside. She walked straight upstairs and found the Caravaggio and it was there, sitting on a bench, she began to cry. She had kept everything together for so long, desperate to help Rachel through this tumultuous time in their lives that she hadn’t taken enough time to cry for herself. For Nuala, for Joe, for her marriage, for Rachel. For herself.

  Quiet and semi-dark, after the crazy cacophony of Grafton Street, it was like being in church. The painting’s beauty and the sense of awe it always inspired in her never failed to work its magic but never before had it made her cry and, for a long time, she sat there sobbing and sobbing. The silent security guard shuffled around discretely, ignoring her, as though a woman crying in front of a painting was an entirely normal part of his day. She wondered if The National Gallery was a popular place for people in the throes of a breakdown.

  A couple of visitors neared the bench and quickly veered away. Eventually, Steph’s tears became snivels and she realised she had created an invisible exclusion zone in which tourists and art lovers avoided her. I can’t believe I have basically prevented all these people from seeing the Caravaggio, she thought, realizing she would never be able to return. There was nothing to do except sneak out, burglar-like.

  ‘And now, in this room we have the jewel in the collection…’ a loud voice was saying as a group of Japanese tourists all wearing earpieces shuffled into the room.

  Oh no, thought Steph, hiding her face, tear-streaked, puffy and red.

  ‘The great Italian painter Caravaggio painted this in Rome 1602. How the painting found its way to the National Gallery is an interesting story…’ The voice went on, echoing around the room.

  Steph lifted herself off the bench and began to tiptoe to the door.

  ‘It was discovered, dusty and forgotten in the home of…’ the commanding voice dropped to an insistent whisper, ridiculously audible through the microphone. ‘Steph? Steph Sheridan?’

  Steph looked at the tour guide through puffy pinpricks of eyes. ‘It’s me Eileen. Jesus Christ! I don’t believe it!’ She was still speaking through the microphone. All the tourists were looking at the two of them, totally ignoring the Caravaggio. Eileen! Eileen, her friend from college.

  ‘One moment ladies and gentlemen…’ said Eileen, and then to Steph. ‘Don’t you dare move or I will kill you… okay?’ She gave Steph a delighted thumbs-up before smoothly returning to her tour-guide voice.

  ‘So here in this painting… we have the interplay between light and darkness…’ Eileen continued, speaking far too quickly for the foreigners, unused to her accent, to follow. And then never had a tour been wrapped up to so quickly (‘andthat’sitfortodayfeelfreetowanderandthanksforcoming!’) before Steph and Eileen were hugging each other.

  ‘I can’t believe it’s you. I thought you were in the West!’ said Steph.

  ‘Was. Then London. Got married but now here, newly divorced – I ditched the Italian – Salvatore – what was I thinking? I may as well have married a Martian. Oh My God, it’s such a relief to be home, with normal people again. It’s great to see you. Do you know, I was just thinking of you and Pippa the other day, remember that time in Achill?’

  ‘Achill. Oh God, yes. That was crazy. I haven’t touched tequila since.’ They looked at each other.

  ‘And Rome!’

  ‘Yes, Rome,’ said Steph, weakly, thinking that she had ruined Rome forever, after her last doomed trip.

  ‘So, elephant in the gallery,’ said Eileen. ‘You look like you’ve been crying.’

  Steph nodded, feeling the tears welling up again. ‘It’s nothing… I mean… well apart from divorce for me too and death… my mother…’ She began to cry again.

  Eileen linked her arm through Steph’s. ‘Let’s go to the cafe for some tea.’

  Downstairs, Steph told Eileen everything.

  ‘Snap,’ said Eileen. ‘My Mam too… five years ago…’

  ‘I’m so sorry, I didn’t hear.’

  Eileen shrugged. ‘It’s okay… She had dementia in the end… but I try to remember her when she was young. And funny. And my Mam.’

  Eileen topped up their cups from the pot.

  ‘It’s just it’s all so raw, still, you know?’ said Steph.

  Eileen nodded. ‘Give yourself time, okay? It’s not a competition about who can get over huge life changes the fastest. Death, divorce. They’re the biggies.’

  ‘I know,’ said Steph. ‘It was nice just coming here. Time on my own. I have the chance for a new start, but I haven’t quite started yet.’

  ‘Time enough. Stay in limbo for as long as you need. You’ll know when you’re ready to brave real life again.’

  And then Steph told her about Rick.

  ‘We’ve never been happy, actually, if I’m honest. And it’s not my fault – or his. He was horrible, and then it became the worst mess imaginable. We stayed for Rachel but ended up making everything worse, to be honest. My job now is to make it up to her.’

  ‘Salvatore and I never… we didn’t have a child… made it easier to leave, I suppose. So every cloud… I would have liked a mini-Eileen though, or even a mini-Salvie. I would have called it some fiendish Irish name, though, to annoy his family. Something they couldn’t spell.’

  They looked at each other, grinning.

  ‘It’s good to see you, Eileen.’

  ‘You too, Steph. You know, despite your annus horribilis, you’re looking good.’

  ‘I’m not, I look terrible.’

  ‘No, you were always gorgeous. Haven’t lost it, you know.’

  Steph blushed. Eileen was always good for making you feel better.

  ‘So,’ said Eileen. ‘Are you working?’

  ‘Gave it all up when I was married. I know, I know…’ she said in response to Eileen’s quizzical eyebrow. ‘Haven’t worked since. I’ve missed it. A lot.’

  ‘Well, I’ve an idea. They need someone to do tou
rs here. I’m only filling in – maternity leave, before I start teaching. What about it? Four days a week, tours every two hours. And there’s other work too, cataloguing. Might be worth thinking about? It’s a start.’

  ‘Oh God. I don’t know anything anymore.’ But the very thought, the very idea, suddenly filled her with possibilities and excitement. Could she?

  ‘Maybe you could start refreshing your memory. Do you still have your Gombrich?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Well, dust it down. Blow off the cobwebs and give it a go. There is a training course starting next week. You need an art history degree, which you have. And the ability to talk to the public. Which I know you have too.’

  ‘I have to say yes, don’t I?’ The idea was growing and growing on her. This was a chance for her to do something. This was a second chance.

  ‘Yes, yes you do. I’m going to put your name down for the course. It takes two weeks. I think you’d be brilliant. I’m your sponsor or whatever it is. Say yes.’

  ‘Okay, yes, then.’

  ‘Good.’ Eileen was smiling at her.

  Steph could feel a tingling, like her phoenix feathers were sprouting. I’m doing it, Mam, she thought. Look! I’m doing it.

  48

  Melissa

  Melissa already had two freelance commissions and was working on her contacts. She’d really let them go in the last few years, but it was time to reignite her career. It was so frightening to be on her own but liberating too. She didn’t dare to feel excited, but there was some unnameable feeling inside her that if she didn’t know any better she might just have labelled it excitement. And she had started sketching ideas for a novel… it was going to be about a young girl in the late 1960s who found herself unmarried and pregnant…

  She had even bought a small Christmas tree for her flat. It was a symbol that she was celebrating and embracing her new life. She toasted it with a glass of sparkling apple juice. Her new business cards were ready from the printers, so she took the bus into town and battled the people and traffic of George’s Street, when she saw someone she recognized.