by Eoin Dempsey
It was five minutes back to his apartment, but he walked so slowly it took him twice that. Two soldiers were checking cars and pedestrians at a security checkpoint at the end of the street he lived on. It had been two weeks since he’d spoken to his mother and he resolved to do so when he arrived home. He passed through the checkpoint. Checkpoints were a fact of life; he barely noticed them anymore. So many places existed in the world without armed soldiers, murals, and faded terrorist flags blowing in the wind. So many places existed without the daily possibility of a bomb going off on a crowded street or the soldiers at the checkpoints opening fire. He thought of Melissa and wondered if it was time that he should get out too. Maybe a fresh start was what he needed, somewhere that people wouldn’t remember him, somewhere that people weren’t divided by loyalty or religion. He came to the door of his apartment building and heard the sound of someone getting out of a car behind him. He whirled around; paranoia grabbing him like hands around his throat. It was Melissa, dressed in sweater and jeans, the makeup around her eyes smudged from tears. He stood frozen as she came to him.
“Where the hell have you been? It’s Monday night, isn’t it?” She managed to smile as the words came.
“I didn’t know. I was in the pub having a drink. Were you waiting long?”
She looked at her watch, wondering if she should tell him the truth, before deciding against it. “A few minutes.” Her heels clacked on the pavement as she moved from foot to foot.
The warmth came again but he was utterly confused, even about what to say or do next. He caught himself staring at her, not saying a word.
“Would you like to come up to my apartment? It’s not exactly palatial but….” It was a mess. He remembered the remnants of this morning’s breakfast, still on the table.
“I’m sure it’s great, but I thought we might go for a walk. It’s a beautiful evening.”
“Yeah, of course.” Relief coursed through him as she led him away from the apartment.
“I didn’t think I was going to see you again,” he began. “After the exams….”
“I didn’t think I was going to see you again either.”
“What made you change your mind?” The words drifted out of his mouth as if he were in a dream.
“You.” She glanced over at him as they walked, a half-smile on her face, which subsided to a sigh almost as quickly as it had come.
The instinct to ask her about the exams, about the college course, about something other than what she was here to talk about came to the forefront of his mind, but he fought it back. The time for wasted time was past now.
“I’m so happy to see you again. It must sound crazy to you, but I’ve missed you so much the last few weeks. It's as if there was a hole in my heart that only you can fill. Do you understand what I mean?”
“Aye. Perfectly, almost too much so.”
He tried to look at her, wanted to take in the full beauty of her face, to lose himself in the eternal green of her eyes, but she looked straight ahead. They came to a cross street and waited for the traffic to come to a stop. The silence between them, necessitated by an old man standing next to them walking his dog, seemed to last hours though it was thirty seconds at most. Mick reached down to pat the dog, a chocolate Labrador. Melissa’s face was stretched tight as a snare drum, her eyes closed as they waited. The light changed and Melissa paced across the road, leaving the man and his dog trailing in her wake. It was amazing how quickly she could move in heels. Mick had almost to jog to catch up with her. They walked along Shipquay Street, down past the Guildhall and toward the river and Waterside beyond it. They hadn’t spoken since they’d stopped at the lights. Mick longed to reach out to her and take her hand, to pull her to him.
“Where are we going?” he asked. “Can you slow down a bit? I thought this was meant to be a leisurely stroll. I didn’t know we were training for the fifty-kilometer walk in the next Olympics.”
She dropped her pace. “I’m sorry, I just wanted to get away from that old man at the light.”
“I know. I don’t really know why you’re here,” he replied. “What’s going on right now?” She glared at him and then straight ahead again. This wasn’t how he’d imagined this being. He would have to lead if she wouldn’t. “When the college year ended, it felt like I was losing you all over again.”
“This hasn’t been easy for me. I have more to lose than you do. There’s more for me to consider.”
“I know you have your son.”
She turned to face him. The leaden expanse of the river was in front of them now. “I….” She stopped, struggling to find the words.
“You don’t have to say anything.” He moved to her, resting his hands on her waist. He was inches from her now.
“I do have to say something.”
“I love you, Melissa. I have from the first moment I saw you, just back over there.” He pointed back to the spot. “I’d never seen anything as beautiful as you in my whole life, and I know now I never will. I’ve loved you every minute of every day since. I know now….”
“It’s not as simple as that,” she said, the tears coming now. His hands moved up to her shoulders and then to the smoothness of her face. She put her hand on his as he cupped her cheeks. “My whole life was set before you came along. I was single, but doing fine. I was happy.”
“You told me you had a boyfriend,” Mick interrupted.
“I lied, so sue me.” She wiped away a tear before continuing. “Jason was doing great. I was getting ready to move away, to start a new life, for a while at least, and then I look over and see you in the bloody classroom, waving back at me.”
“I didn’t wave the first class. The waving came later.”
“Thanks for the correction,” she said, not rising to the joke. “You turned everything upside down. Jesus, if my son could see me now, crying on the riverfront like some teenager, and over you.”
“Melissa, if you don’t love me then just….”
“Of course I love you, you idiot. Why else would I be back here, subjecting myself to this? Only someone in love can act as stupidly as I am right now.”
She looked into his eyes as he let the bliss of her words sink in. He leaned down and kissed her on the mouth, but only as a peck. The time wasn’t right, not yet.
“It’s not as easy as that.”
“I know about your family and my past. Surely….”
“It’s not even that,” she said, stepping back away from his touch. “It’s Jason.”
“I’m sure that once he gets to know me…” His words trailed away.
She took a deep breath, the gravity of what she was about to say having its full effect on her.
“I haven’t been honest with you. Jason’s not fifteen. He’s sixteen. He was born on March 21st, 1973.”
The realization scalded him like boiling water. She didn’t even have to say it.
“He’s your son. Jason’s your son, Mick.”
He stood there motionless for a few seconds, feeling his insides implode. He leaned back against the railing, his legs uneasy. Melissa was staring at him, watching him as he scanned for a bench, somewhere to sit before his legs gave way entirely. The weight of his body forced him down until he was on his haunches, his hands out in front of him with sweaty palms bonded together.
“All this time?” he said, his voice tired and thick. She didn’t answer, just reached down a hand to him. He shook his head and used the old iron railings behind him to help himself back up onto his feet, before turning to lean out toward the Foyle, just like that night he’d found her on the other side in 1972. “It was the night before I went to the RUC, wasn’t it?”
“Yes,” she replied in a whisper.
“You’re sure it’s me, you’re sure I’m the father?”
“I’m sure, Mick. I was a virgin before we met. I’d never been with anyone else. You know that,” she snapped.
“I think I’m within in my rights to inquire.” He fought the anger back, tri
ed to focus on the love surging through him, the opportunity in front of him. And the anger faded. He understood. He understood why she hadn’t told him. It was the only thing she could have done. Melissa was leaning over the railing looking out, close enough to touch.
“I wanted to tell you about Jason. I wanted to tell you in 1974 when I came to you in jail, but I just couldn’t. What would have been the point? I thought you were going to be in there for the rest of your life. What would my parents have said? ‘Oh Mam, Dad, you’ll never guess who the father of your first grandchild is – the guy on the news, yeah him there, the one who shot those soldiers last year.’ How could I do that, Mick?”
Mick felt a wry smile come to his face. “Ok, but you could have told me earlier, you could have said it to me in September when we met up again.”
“I had no idea you were going to be there or how you would have reacted. Jason has had a father all his life, or at least he had a man who he thought was his father. I didn’t want you to show up and confuse him. I had to look after Jason. He was always my first priority.”
“So why are you telling me now? I could have lived out the rest of my life without knowing. Jason need never have known either. Why did you tell me?”
Melissa closed her eyes and shook her head. She kept her eyes closed as she spoke. “I realized. It took me a while to realize, that I love you, that there’s no one else in this world for me but you, and there never has been. All the problems with John and anyone else were always because I was comparing them to you.”
“What, the convicted IRA murderer?”
“That’s not who you are. You know as well as I do that you’re not that person.” She moved to him, touching her arm against his and his turned his body to face her. “I’ve seen inside you too many times to think that. I’ve seen your heart. You were never that person.” Her hands were on his chest now. “I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you about Jason; it was just too risky.”
“But it’s not risky now?”
“Of course it is,” she raised her voice before realizing where she was. An old couple sauntered past them, hand in hand. Melissa waited until they’d moved past to continue. The maelstrom had faded from her eyes now; the certainty of what she was doing giving her the courage to continue. “This is one of the riskiest things I’ve done since I started seeing you. You’re the biggest risk I’ve ever taken, and, apart from a few obvious things, I might be yours too.”
“Did you tell Jason about me yet? Does he think that John is his real father?”
“I haven’t told him. I needed to speak to you first. I’m not going to tell him until I figure out where we’re going from here, and yes, he thinks that John is his real father.”
“Does John know himself?”
“He always knew that he wasn’t the father. I don’t think he wanted to know who Jason’s real dad was. I told him it was a one-night thing.”
The wind gusted off the river blowing her hair across the smooth skin of her forehead. Mick moved gentle fingers to correct it and brought his palm down to her cheek again. She leaned into the warmth of his hand, drawing herself closer, their hips touching now, her mouth inches from his.
“I don’t know what we’re going to do. All I know is how much I love you,” she whispered and he brought his lips down to meet hers, felt the velvet touch of her kiss, the intoxication of her, all over again. The years melted away and they were kids again. They were back in a time before his father died, before those soldiers were shot down, before his time in jail, when all that mattered was that they loved each other. He drew away from her thirty seconds later, assured of something in his life at last.
“I want to meet our son.”
She nodded and leaned into him, her ear on his heart as it thundered inside him. They stood there for a few minutes and kissed again before he led her back from the riverside and past the Guildhall toward his apartment. They spoke little as they went, moving back through the city and the timelines of their lives laid out in the buildings and streets they passed on their way. They walked hand in hand past the place they’d first met and through the old city walls, which snaked around to hover like a school bully over Bogside and Rossville Street where his father had died. They moved through everything they’d ever known together. The story of Derry was woven into their own like fingers interlocking. The story of the city, and the sadness and violence it had visited on the people like an abusive, yet loving father, was theirs too. But another story was coming sharply into focus. If Jason would accept him, to some degree at least, only his promise to Sean, and his commitment to Tony remained. Without a word to one another they floated up the stairs, barely touching the ground on their way into the bedroom.
Chapter 25
They were all thankful for Siobhan. She latched on to Jason as soon as they’d met, and insisted on holding his hand as they walked from the cars to the restaurant and then on sitting beside him at the table. Her instantaneous fascination had melted away any awkwardness that might have arisen, and given them all something to laugh about. It had taken the boys longer, but by the end of that evening in July, they were all out in the garden behind Pat’s house together. Jason was playing football with them as Siobhan looked on with adoring eyes. Jason was smaller than Mick had been at that age and had his mother’s hair, but apart from that, Mick could have been looking at a picture of himself. The very thought of Jason’s existence perplexed him. He had always been there, through all the times he’d had inside, through all the times when it didn’t seem like there was any light left to break through the darkness. He’d existed as his and Melissa’s son. It was almost too extraordinary to contemplate. Pat’s son, Michael, went to slide tackle him, but Jason side-stepped out of it and flicked the ball over his cousin’s prostrate body before volleying past seven-year-old Peter in the tiny goals.
“He’s a showboater, just like his dad,” Pat smirked and took a swig of beer from the bottle he was holding. All four parents were standing at the kitchen window, watching the children playing together. He wondered how Jason would react, how he would react himself. Even the word ‘parent’ lay slack on him like an ill-fitting jacket.
“When are you going to tell him?” Pamela asked.
Melissa reached over and took Mick’s hand, interlocking her fingers in his as he began to speak. “I figured tonight would be the night, but I almost don’t want to spoil it now. He’s no idea what’s going on, thinks that I’m his mother’s new boyfriend from Bogside. He’s never even been here before.”
“How was he about coming over here?” Pat asked.
“Fine, there were no problems about that. He’s a good boy, not like some others. I always tried to instill that in him,” Melissa said.
“Have you had much of a chance to sit down and talk to him yet, Mick?” Pat asked. Siobhan was playing with the boys now, running around in circles with the ball in her arms.
“We’ve spoken, but he’s guarded. It’s going to take a while to break through with him. It’s going to be a lot to take on.”
“He’s still hurting from the divorce,” Melissa interjected. “I’m sure he likes Mick, but I just don’t know how he’s going to react. He’s too old to wait very long. That’d only make things worse.”
“How are you going to explain where you’ve been all his life?” Pamela asked.
Mick took a few seconds, silence filling the vacuum where his words should have been. “I don’t know yet. I have to be honest with him. It would kill him if he found out from someone else, and we might even be able to keep it from his grandparents if he’s in on it.”
“Is he close to them?”
“Aye, he is,” Melissa answered. “And he has cousins on my side too, my sister Jenny has a boy and a girl.”
“What age are they?” Pat asked.
“Johnny is six, and Lily is four. They’re great kids. They live over in Waterside, not too far from where we grew up.”
“And when are you off to Dublin?” Pamela asked.
“A month or so. Mick’s help was greatly appreciated last weekend when he came down with us to check it out. It gave him and Jason a good chance to spend some time together too.”
“That’s great,” Pat said and reached across to put an arm around his brother’s shoulder. “How was Dublin, Mick? It’s been a few years since I was down there myself.”
“It was fabulous,” he replied, swallowing a mouthful of beer. “No checkpoints, no soldiers, no terrorist flags anywhere, just people getting on with their lives.”
“It’ll be like that again some day. People are sick of the endless cycle of violence. Even the IRA is beginning to see that peace and the ballot box are the only real answers,” Pat added.