by Graham Jones
9
The plastic case honoured that tradition of movie poster and album cover and game box for which the image has been masterfully painted by hand and is undoubtedly of much higher quality than whatever chocolate sits inside. I breathed a little laugh while gently massagin the merchandise and studyin the depiction of a rural hotel carpark and eighties function room behind large glass windows. Inside, a rowdy crowd of stereotypical-lookin travellers were imbued with the movement of an epic renaissance paintin, the men with the bristle of Halloween masks and women with murderous leers. At the bar, fists were flyin. While in the corner three men seemed preoccupied by a brown leather bag apparently emanatin a mysterious golden glow. In the carpark another wild lookin caricature lay asleep on the tarmacadam in a red lumberjack shirt under a dim blue sky.
Michael was payin his first visit since the weddin six months earlier, standin just inside our entrance with twenty copies of the game in a box under his arm and castin his eyes around to see whether anyone else was approachin. So far the only takers had been myself, Eoghan and Paul - those two lads now shoutin from across the camp that Shimmy Ward was tryin it out on his PS3.
From what we could see through his doorway, Shimmy was simply walkin around the virtual function room and boxin everyone. Each time he went anywhere near a fellow traveller, the traveller glanced at him and uttered the canned line: 'Ah, howaya doin!'
If Shimmy punched, as he invariably did, there was an appropriate sound effect followed by the traveller who had been struck exclaimin: 'Jaysus, that's a bit much!'
The voices were like wind-up dolls. The graphics weren't realistic. Something they got perfect, though, was the sky upon exiting the pub. The haze in the carpark. That was done well. Listless, aimless wanderin was something it captured - although perhaps not intentionally. At the bottom left hand corner of the screen a box entitled Weaponry boasted that Shimmy was carryin a chairleg, bottle and knife.
'It's fuckin brilliant,' he glanced back at us all - because by now Bernie, Mary, Steph, Susan, Paddo, Christopher, Mic, Auntie Nelly, Missy, Francie, Winona, Jimmy, John, Marto, Clean Christy, Johnny, Bernie, Rosie, Ape, Brian, Martin, Denise, Jason, Christopher-Angel, Dearbhla, Jimmy, Eoghan and even Joe Maughan were crowded behind myself and Michael. There were more on the way, too. Young ones tunnellin through our legs and scootin onto the floor. I assumed they would be disappointed by the game, the kids, as it was a pale imitation of their favourite titles. It could have been much harder to play, too. All seemed to be about the novelty of bein in the world of travellers and cheap violence. Yet the little ones appeared enamoured. I wondered, somewhat anxiously, what the adults would say. After spendin the last six months assassinatin Michael's character.
Steph believed he had ruined my life and that before this was all over I would have the privilege of ruinin his, insistin Michael wanted me and would propose soon - at which point I could blow him out like a candle.
Auntie Nelly was more sympathetic towards him, suggestin he had gotten lost and was tryin to find his way back home - she reckoned it had been my place to wait for him and that I should now be his woman.
Missy believed I was wrapped up in the wrong man.
Little Winona thought he was a weirdo.
My uncle John said nobody could tell me he was bad news, because I simply wouldn't listen.
Clean Christy had developed a whole line about his bein involved in drugs.
Francie said he wasn't the 'type' I was 'supposed' to be with.
Brian and Martin claimed that Michael havin a woman elsewhere and comin back and wantin me too was like tryin to have his cake and eat it. That he had already disgraced me and if I allowed him do so again it was my own fault.
Susan said he might be excitin, but wasn't the right one.
Ape said nothing but you could tell he found it all very sad.
Christopher-Angel thought the whole thing was hilarious.
Joe Maughan still wouldn't leave me alone.
'I'm surprised you hand delivered them,' I said as we walked away from Shimmy's trailer.
'Well,' he threw the empty box away. 'Maybe you don't know me as well as you think.'
'You're not a player in that company at all,' I stopped walkin and looked at him. 'You make the tea. Don't you?'
He looked at me slowly, then grimaced.
'I can't believe you ever thought it would be any different,' I shook my head and slowly started walkin again.
'You did,' he slowly followed me. 'Or why the hell did ya spend all that time debatin with me?'
'Consultant in the Travellin Community,' I read from the back of my own copy. 'Michael McDonagh.'
Then threw it toward a rainbow puddle and walked back to my trailer.
A few minutes later he appeared at my door again.
I sighed and started choppin ginger.
'They used me,' he said, steppin in.
'They used you,' I concurred. 'And you used us Michael.'
'Why didn't you get married Christine?' he suddenly asked.
His tone sought vindication, but I knew it was only fear.
'Stop it,' I sighed. 'You know nobody would fuckin touch me.'
'Joe Maughan proposed,' he smiled.
'Nobody I liked, Michael,' I stared out the window. 'Nobody I liked.'
'Don't tell me you're a virgin?' he asked.
There was silence.
'It's not like it's God's wish for us,' I said slowly. 'If you have sex before marriage it means that when you get married you're not givin your whole self.'
I could still hear Shimmy playin the videogame.
'That means I can't give my whole self to you,' he said slowly.
'You can't,' I said.
I heard him snort.
'So what are you waitin for?' he asked. 'A thirty six year old virgin?'
'Well,' I spooned honey into mugs. 'I'm not waitin for you, Michael.'
'I'm into monogamy,' he shrugged.
'If we've already been with other people,' I shook my head. 'It's not monogamy.'
'Monogamy means one person at a time?' he muttered.
My neck almost reared back as I looked at his reflection in disgust.
'The type of monogamy you're talkin about is dead and gone Christine,' he raised his voice. 'In the real world people have different relationships. One after the other. That's how it goes.'
'I know how it goes,' I said. 'You don't need to educate me. Some people already tried that and ended up spendin loads on reconstruction.'
'D'you ever wonder why it's so rare?' he took another step toward my back. 'Bein with only one person? It's only us who do it. We're not even one per cent of the fuckin population, Christine. Way under one per cent. D'you ever think... maybe we're just wrong?'
The kettle was boilin.
'Let marriage be held in honor among all and let the marriage bed be undefiled,' I slid the mugs over. 'For fornicators and adulterers God will judge.'
I could almost feel his breath on my neck.
'It's so hard to find the right one Michael,' I poured hot water on the honey. 'I sometimes wondered what you were thinkin. Kissin me like that? You must have known what it would do.'
There was silence.
'It's so important to have a partner in life,' I sighed. 'Someone to walk by your side.'
'Don't know why I left,' his voice weakened slightly. 'I really thought there was something out there.'
'There's nothing out there Michael,' I turned and faced him. 'I used to think that too, but I swear to God there really isn't. They're miserable. It's a miserable world they've got in return for all their ideas and concepts. They have stupid little love affairs, mirror images of whatever they're pretendin to be that particular year - I'm talkin from experience - and their whole economy is based on buildin those houses. A lot of those jobs they wouldn't stop talkin about were buildin houses. Houses that cost so much, the money they got paid to build them went out the window buyin them. It's not a life!'
He nodded
.
'All I ever wanted was to be wanted,' I nearly started cryin. 'I wanted someone to love me. Used to think about you when I was seven, Michael. When I was seven!'
I turned back to the mugs.
We hadn't turned on the lights and it was startin to get dark inside. He stepped away from me and soon I heard him sit down. It was quiet for a while and there was something musty in the air. Like together we sensed the dull splendour of our misspent youth.
There really is nothing more perverse than a life not lived.
Finally, he reached for the lamp on my little wooden table and I began stirrin the honey.
'I know what you're sayin,' he said slowly as the trailer brightened. 'About the settled. They're not happy. They work but they don't enjoy the work. They never save a penny. Just drink it.'
'They don't know what they want,' I said upon dumpin the last piece of ginger into his mug.
Then came over to the couch with two steamin mugs and sat down, handin him one.
He took a sip and looked thoughtful for a moment.
'God,' he said. 'That's good.'
I smiled.
'If you're really goin to leave that stupid world behind and if you're willin to marry me then I will give you another chance,' I admitted.
He closed his eyes to trap a tear.
Then put down his drink and placed a hand on my bare leg.
It was happenin.
The story of Michael and Christine finally endin.
I hope you liked it.
'There's just one thing,' he said.
I looked from my leg to his face.
'What did you mean when you said you were talkin from experience?' he asked.
'What?' I blinked.
'Stupid little love affairs,' he said. 'You said you were? talkin from experience.'
I stared at him.
His hand became still as he stared back.
Michael had pretended to be surprised at the notion of my bein a virgin, when in truth he expected nothing less.