All Roads

by Peter Murphy

  “Ah now, Mrs. Boyle. You shouldn’t be talking like that in front of the Fathers.”

  “Don’t worry about us,” John Melchor assured her as he poured more wine. “It’s something I have often thought myself.”

  “I don’t mean any disrespect,” Jacinta explained, “it’s just that sometimes praying feels like lining up at the butcher’s counter and waiting for your number to be called.”

  “Don’t be talking like that in front of the holy Jesuit. He’ll think we’re all still pagans.”

  “Don’t concern yourself on my account.” John Melchor laughed. “All the best Catholics are really good pagans at heart. I learned that in Central America. They have their own saints down there and they pray to them to intercede on their behalf. I guess we all still live in fear of the god of the Bible. It’s understandable. He was very temperamental.”

  Mrs. Flanagan looked pleadingly at Patrick, expecting him to stand up for God, but John continued. “Trust me, Mrs. Flanagan, your prayers have been heard and God will surely act in his own mysterious way.”

  “Are you sure, Father?”

  “I’m certain of it.”

  “Well there you have it.”

  Jacinta was clearly enjoying herself and looked for a waiter to bring more wine, but Mrs. Flanagan was tired and wanted to get back to their hotel. Patrick settled the bill and he and John walked them there like gentlemen.

  *

  “Are you sure you should have said that to Mrs. Flanagan?” Patrick chided gently when they were alone again, mindful that John was more used to talking with academics than ordinary people. “She might take the wrong meaning from it.”

  “I doubt it. That poor woman is so worn down by grief that she’ll find solace in anything. They both are.”

  “Well, I hope everything works out for them.”

  “I’m sure it will, Patrick, but it’ll probably take a few miracles along the way.”

  Patrick might have asked John why he looked so assured but they were crossing the Campo De’ Fiori, right under Bruno’s statue.

  “Tell me more about Anthony and Danny Boyle,” John asked nonchalantly.

  Chapter 2 – 1998

  Where’s Mom?” Grainne called from the hallway. It was almost nine and she was supposed to have been home by seven. And she had someone with her.

  “Out,” Martin answered from his room. He didn’t want to have to deal with her. His mother would ask what time she had got in and he was going to have to fudge it again. He was tired of getting caught between them.

  “Where?”

  “I don’t know. I think she had a meeting or something.” He did know. She had gone for dinner with Eduardo. But they both thought it was better that Grainne didn’t know. His mother felt that Grainne wasn’t ready for her to move on from their father but, sometimes, Martin felt that Grainne was just using the whole thing to get her way.

  He had been preparing for a test. He had to do well if he was going to go for scholarships. His coach said he was good enough to make it into the Ontario Hockey League and could even make it in the draft in a few years. It was flattering, but Martin had been around hockey long enough to see the price that had to be paid. Guys who had devoted everything were getting cut all around him. He was still going for it, but he would have a plan B. He already knew that life made its own cuts.

  “This is my troll of a brother,” Grainne explained and pushed his bedroom door open in case further evidence was required. Her friend looked in and smiled.

  “Hi, Martin.”

  She flushed a little when he looked over. Her name was Rachael and she lived in Moore Park. She was older than Grainne and Martin was surprised they were friends. Rachael was one of the hottest girls in grade nine.

  “Close my door. I’m busy.” It sounded worse than he had intended. He always talked to Grainne like that, but she knew he didn’t really mean it, even when he did. He was just a bit flustered. He’d never talked to Rachael before, but since the beginning of term he saw her everywhere and, lately, she always smiled when he walked past. He never reacted when he was with his friends, swaggering around in their hockey jackets, but sometimes when his friends weren’t looking he’d look back at her. The last time she’d caught him.

  “Rachael and I are going into my room and no one is to bother us.”

  “Mom’s going to ask about your homework.”

  “God! You’re such a . . .” Grainne stormed off but Rachael lingered for a moment.

  “Bye, Martin.”

  “Yeah, bye.” He could have kicked himself. He’d wanted to be much cooler.

  They were listening to Faith. Grainne was obsessed with George Michael and had posters of him all over her room. She’d even gone around singing “I Want Your Sex” until their mother insisted she stopped. Martin had complained, too, but his mother had just laughed and told him he was just as obsessed by hockey. “At least hockey,” he had blurted out without thinking, “doesn’t turn people into sluts.”

  His mother hadn’t jumped all over that. She just raised her eyebrow to let him know she expected better of him. They had talked about it. Grainne was being a total pain, but it was what she had to do to get through. They were all still a little damaged.

  Grainne and Rachael were laughing at something. He hadn’t heard Grainne laugh like that in so long that it almost made him smile. “That’s so, like, cool,” he heard her through the wall. She was doing that thing she always did, acting and sounding like whomever she was with. It was as if she had a different personality for every person she met. Most of the crowd she hung around with were dorks. Everyone was dorky in grade seven, but when Martin was in it they didn’t go around like they were proud of it.

  They had only been in the same high school for a few months, but she was already embarrassing him. She was acting flirty all the time, and the other guys were starting to notice her. She was still going over to her father’s too. He only went at Christmas and met him somewhere for his birthday. He never wanted to, but his mother insisted. His father was still a dork. He’d stopped drinking again but that didn’t change anything. And he was always trying too hard. Grainne milked it for all she could, but it just made Martin angry. Especially when his father bought him a Wayne Gretzky autographed stick and his mother made him hang it on his wall. He hated looking at it. It brought up all kinds of feelings that he couldn’t sort out. It was easier when he just pretended that his father didn’t exist anymore.

  His mother was due home by eleven so he banged on the wall at ten-thirty and banged again when Grainne didn’t respond. It was how he kept her out of trouble.

  “Okay, okay. God! You’re like a prison guard.”

  He waited by his door until they came out. Rachael had made a phone call and they were giggling about something.

  “Martin, Rachael’s parents didn’t answer. Would you walk her home? Pretty please,” Grainne asked when they saw him, her voice softer and sweeter. Rachael stood behind her and watched his face. They were both smiling like cats but he didn’t hesitate.

  “Yeah, okay.”

  *

  When he returned his mother was waiting for him. She was sitting on the couch with her legs tucked under her and her high heels kicked off under the coffee table. She had turned the lights down and poured herself a glass of wine.

  “Everything okay, sweetie? Grainne tells me she had a friend over and that you were a gentleman and walked her home.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Want a sip?” She let him have one every so often. She didn’t want him to be afraid of alcohol.

  “No thanks.”

  “So, is she nice?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You don’t normally like Grainne’s friends.”

  “She’s different.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah. Did you have a nice . . . eveni
ng?”

  His mother shook out her hair and took off her earrings. She had makeup on too. All the guys in school noticed her and they all had the “hots” for her. Doug was the worst. When they went drinking on the hill behind the school, he let it slip out. They were all drunk, so he probably thought no one would remember. Martin did. He only had one beer and didn’t finish it. He didn’t like drinking like that. Normally he wouldn’t, but it was the hockey guys.

  “Martin, what would you think if we all went out with Eduardo some evening?”

  He just shrugged. He wanted to but he didn’t want to show it.

  “Is that a yes?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Oh, Martin, stop grunting and talk with me. The reason is, your father called me today. He wants to take you and your sister shopping on Saturday. He wants to bring his girlfriend along. Would you be okay with that?”

  “Yeah, I guess so.” He knew what his mother was up to. If Martin accepted his father’s girlfriend, Grainne would have to accept Eduardo. It seemed fair, only his mother would insist she was doing it for Grainne’s sake—so Grainne could see that everyone could get along even though everything was different. It would help with her trust issues. Martin didn’t care. He liked Eduardo. He was cool.

  “What’s she like?”

  “I’m sure she’s a very nice person.”

  “Then why is she going out with him?”

  “Maybe she likes him.”

  “Or feels sorry for him.”

  “Martin, that’s very cynical of you. People meet and fall in love, even damaged people. So, tell me about Rachael. Is she nice?”

  “Yeah.”

  *

  Deirdre finished her wine and got ready for bed. It was all going to work out fine.

  “Each new beginning is the start of the next failure.” Danny’s voice echoed as she removed her makeup and applied her night creams. For the most part she had exorcised him from her life, but whenever they had contact he’d linger for a while. She dismissed him again and checked herself in the mirror. Since they had separated she had taken good care of herself and was fighting the war against aging. And while not so much winning, she was going down with a fight. She was forty-one but could easily pass for mid thirties. Wise enough to know what she was getting herself into.

  Eduardo had been cut off from his kids, as well as his parents and everyone they knew. When he left his wife, he had left his tribe. If he had hooked up with an Italian or, at worst, a Hispanic it might have been okay, after enough time had passed. But he had left his wife for a British woman.

  “Irish,” Deirdre had corrected him when he tried to explain it all to her. He needed to feel part of a family again. And Grainne needed to know that life went on and often led to new and greater times. Deirdre knew she had to let it play out slowly. She’d see how the shopping trip went first.

  *

  Traffic was bad so her mother agreed to drop them off at Simcoe St. She had wanted to leave them right at the door where their father would be waiting. Queen Street West could be a little too much for a girl Grainne’s age, she had said. But Grainne pointed out that Martin would be with her, and it was the middle of the day.

  Only Grainne wasn’t happy that Martin was wearing his dorky hockey jacket. She wasn’t even sure why he had come along. He didn’t even like their daddy. He was so . . . God! And he wouldn’t even let her stop and look in any of the small boutiques along the way. They had the kind of stuff that the older girls in school were wearing, punky and retro.

  “I just want to look. God!”

  “You wouldn’t like it. You only like stuff with big logos.”

  “Yeah, right. Like you’d know what I like.” She was about to get all . . . when she saw her father standing by the doorway of Club Monaco with some woman beside him.

  “Daddy.” She ran to him as she had when she was younger. He tried to pick her up and twirl her a little but she was too big for that now. So he just hugged her as if he hadn’t seen her in so long. They had just been to the movies two weeks ago. He could be so . . .

  “Grainne, this is Billie.”

  The woman leaned forward and smiled all stiffly. “Hi, Grainne. It’s so nice to meet you. Your daddy has told me so much about you. And you”—she turned to her brother—“must be Martin.”

  Martin just grunted and didn’t look up—like he was acting all bored.

  “C’mon on then. Let’s do some shopping.” Grainne tugged her father’s arm and, when he turned back to her, linked arms with him and dragged him inside. Billie followed with Martin who was all . . . He could be such a scrub sometimes.

  Grainne knew her father was acting all nervous and was trying to involve his girlfriend every time they looked at something. At first Grainne just pretended like she wasn’t even there but when Billie started agreeing that the stuff wasn’t too old for her, Grainne smiled and even let her pick out some shirts and dresses.

  She even let Billie hold them against her while she tilted her head and squinted a little. “Maybe something brighter,” she would say as she put it away and rummaged for something else. “Or something looser,” when she looked at Grainne’s tiny breasts and tried again.

  A few times her father objected. He thought she was too young to go around looking like that, but his girlfriend just laughed. Grainne didn’t even have to work on him. Billie did it all for her. She came into the change room, too, with all that they had picked out. She said that Grainne should try them all on and they could decide from there.

  She even made her father and Martin sit outside while Grainne strutted back and forth in each different outfit. She loved being the center of attention, even if Martin was glaring at her. And when it was time to decide, and Grainne was preparing to squeeze out a few tears if she had to, Billie said she should take the lot and that she wanted to pay for them. Her father tried to argue, but Billie wouldn’t hear it. She linked arms with Grainne and marched to the checkout.

  Two dresses, three skirts, a few shirts, two sweaters and two cargo pants. It was quite a haul. And her father seemed happy. “So, do you like your new clothes?”

  “Yeah, and the best part is that Mom is going to hate them.”

  “Well I’m just happy to see you getting on so well with Billie,” he whispered when she rose on her toes to kiss his cheek. “It’s so great to see everybody happy and enjoying themselves.”

  *

  Billie wasn’t. Not really. But she kept smiling for Danny’s sake. His daughter was a spoiled little princess and she had just gone and spent a fortune on her. She had to; she really wanted the little brat to like her and had promised to take her shopping again—just the two of them. And now she had to work on Martin, who looked like he just wanted to be anywhere else. Billie knew exactly how he felt.

  “And what kind of stuff do you like?” she asked as she walked out beside him, while Danny followed with all Grainne’s bags under one arm and his daughter under the other—just as he and Billie did when they walked home from gigs together.

  They had only been living together for a few months, having waited the “AA year.” Everything was different from before, but in recovery, everything else was too. He had changed and so had she, but they still loved each other. It was different this time, though. He wasn’t just him anymore. It was him and his children, particularly his daughter. She was a part of everything they talked about.

  The only time Billie ever really felt as though they were a couple again was when they were in bed. Even then it was different and a bit strange at first. Sober sex was difficult, but they had the past to remind them.

  For everything else they had the program. They talked about it and how it impacted every facet of their lives. Danny was almost evangelical, but she understood. When life got difficult, Danny became more programmed. It was almost like a religion with him, but they did talk openly and fr
eely; and after all the years she had spent hiding from reality, she was happy about that. Except they never spent enough time talking about themselves. He was always going on about how much he missed his kids. Maybe if they got that straightened out they would have time. It was going to be hard, but she was determined to get the little brats to like her.

  “Nothing around here,” Martin answered gruffly.

  “So where do you hang out?”

  “I don’t.”

  “Sure you do.” She wanted to put her arm around his shoulder like a friend, but he didn’t seem like that type of kid. “You hang around with your hockey team. That’s hanging out, no matter what you call it.”

  “Whatever.”

  “Oh, you’re the strong silent type?”

  “Whatever.”

  “So what would you like to do?”

  “Go home.”

  “Why? Are you not enjoying yourself?”

  “No. And I don’t see why I have to do this. Next time, just invite Grainne.”

  “But your father wanted to see you too.”

  His eyes grew harder and narrower. “Why? He doesn’t even like me.”

  “Sure he does.”

  “You don’t know what he’s really like.”

  “And are you so sure people can’t change?”

  “Whatever.”

  “Listen, Martin, this is just as hard on him as it is on you.”

  “How would you know?”

  “Because it is not any easier on me.”

  “Then why did you come?”

  “Because I’m with your father now.”

  He didn’t say anything but he did look up at her. His eyes were hard. The kid had eyes like a hawk.

  “What do say that you cut me a break so that I don’t have to spend any more time with your little sister? We could cut out on shopping and go for something to eat. You look like the type of guy who could manage a steak.”

  “Sure,” he agreed and smiled the way Danny did.

  “Thanks, kid.” She paused to light a cigarette but thought better of it.