Rhino What You Did Last Summer

by Ross O'Carroll-Kelly

  One thing I’ve always been shit at is, like, gauging the right and wrong things to say in situations like this.

  ‘You know me, Lauren,’ I end up going. ‘I’m a relatively straight shooter. And my attitude is, if someone comes up to me and says they don’t respect the bond of trust that exists between two dudes who went to war together on the rugby field, then, frankly, I don’t care who they are or how many movies they’ve made – they can pucker up and smooch my ample rump…’

  The most unbelievable pain suddenly shoots through my body and for a minute I’m actually paralysed. Lauren has grabbed me by the knackers, so fast that I didn’t even see her hand move. I can’t even catch my breath.

  I’m going, ‘Lauren… plea… lego…’

  With her other hand – the one that isn’t wringing out my scrote like a dishrag – she takes the confidentiality agreement from Christian and hands it to me, then gives me a pen.

  When I’ve signed it, roysh, with, like, a trembling hand, she finally gives me back my Charles de Gaulles.

  Then Christian goes, ‘Now – on with the show…’

  This is the life.

  We’re sitting out on the front steps of Christian and Lauren’s cabin, looking out over Lake Ewok, watching the sun disappear behind the giant Redwoods and the coals of the barbecue turn slowly white.

  ‘I’m sorry about earlier,’ I go. ‘It was probably just me being Jack the Lad.’

  He’s cool with it, of course. He asks me if I’m okay and I remind him that I’ve had my beans ground many, many times over the years. They generally only hurt until the swelling goes down. I check over my shoulder.

  ‘I thought she’d reached the stage where she could just about tolerate being in my company,’ I go. ‘I mean, what changed? I thought absence was supposed to make the hort grow fonder?’

  He has a quick look over his shoulder as well – with a wife with a grip like that, he’s probably learned the hord way? ‘It’s just… no, forget it.’

  I’m there, ‘How can I forget it after that? Come on, Christian – what the fock?’

  ‘Well,’ he goes, ‘I told you, we’ve been down to see Sorcha once or twice. And, being pregnant, I suppose Lauren’s especially sensitive to a mother’s point of view at the moment. She’s looking at little Honor there, growing up without her father. Just like she grew up with her own father coming and going…’

  ‘Hennessy? Well, thank fock I’m nothing like him.’

  ‘She thinks you are,’ he goes. ‘She sees you as, you know… cut from the same cloth.’

  Which hurts, it has to be said. ‘I hope you were defending me during all this.’

  He’s there, ‘Of course I was. But it’s hard, Ross. She keeps bringing up all this stuff. We had a huge row the other night after you rang. And she pointed out, you know… you slept with my mother.’

  That stops me dead in my tracks. The subject hasn’t come up for years and he’s never just said it out like that.

  ‘Hey, I explained that to you at the time,’ I go. ‘It takes two to tango.’

  He’s there, ‘I know. But she also said…’

  ‘What?’

  ‘She said that you can’t bear it when something good happens for me. You always have to ruin it. You’re scared I’ll make a success of my life and leave you behind. She thinks that’s why you’re over here.’

  ‘I can’t tell you how much that hurts,’ I go. ‘But I’m going to be generous to her and put it down to hormones.’

  He hands me another can. I hold it up to my nuts, the cold soothing them. I change the subject. ‘By the way, I’m putting him under major pressure, by the way – as in, Cillian?’

  ‘Pressure? How?’

  ‘Just by being on the scene.’

  ‘Are you saying you still have feelings for Sorcha?’ he goes, again getting straight to the point.

  I can’t tell you how good it feels to be shooting the shit with my best friend like this.

  I’m there, ‘I do. Except, I’m not sure anymore what those feelings actually are? I mean, don’t get me wrong, if I thought there was a sniff of it, I’d be in there like swimwear. She’s still a ringer for Jennie Garth. And, I suppose, my wife. But maybe it is going to be just friendship.’

  ‘Do you think she still has feelings for you?’

  ‘I’m not sure. And that’s a tough thing for me to admit. I mean, not in the way that girls usually have feelings for me? He’s a bastard to women – but he makes my tummy all funny…’

  ‘So what, she wants you as her friend?’ he goes.

  ‘Worse. She wants me as her gay friend.’

  He laughs.

  I’m there, ‘I’m actually serious. She has me going around clothes shops with her. Do you think this emerald Abaeté is too like the ruffled Marchesa I already have? ’

  ‘No!’

  ‘I’m serious. Do you think I could pull off a Herve Leger bandage dress as well as Audrina Patridge? ’

  ‘She’s probably just missing having a best female friend.’

  ‘Well, I think she thinks I’m suddenly it. Some dude in Kitson actually hit on me.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I shit you not. It’s like, whoa, horsy, I’m not that kind of goy?’

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘Actually, we’re probably going to go for a coffee as it happens. But it’s just to discuss the whole LA gym scene – nothing gay.’

  I check on the barbie. Very little flame left. Could probably throw the old steaks on now. ‘So what about you?’ I go. ‘How are you feeling about the whole fatherhood thing, blah blah blah?’

  ‘Nervous,’ he goes.

  I’m like, ‘Dude, you’ll be great. You’d be shocked at how much of it comes naturally.’

  But he’s there, ‘I’m worried,’ and from his expression it’s immediately obvious that he needs, like, a shoulder here. ‘I mean, Lauren and I haven’t exactly had great role models in that department, have we? I mean, Hennessy and Maeve are divorced. And God knows my parents have had their problems…’

  Of which I was obviously one.

  ‘It’s, like, they’re back together and everything? But everyone knows they’re just flogging a dead horse… I think the only thing I’ve ever been scared of in life is bringing kids into the world, then focking their heads up by… becoming my old man.’

  ‘That will not happen,’ I go, mainly because his old man’s a dick. ‘Don’t you even focking think that. You’re going to be this amazing father – I genuinely feel that.’

  He nods, roysh, like I’ve answered all his fears.

  Then I decide to hit him with the big news. ‘Okay,’ I go, ‘this is totally random. You know Erika? Of course you know Erika…’

  Erika used to have a thing for him.

  ‘It turns out she’s my sister. Well, half.’

  ‘Your sister? You mean…’

  ‘My old man is her old man. You’d never think it to look at her, would you?’

  He’s genuinely struggling with it. He’s there, ‘I mean, that’s like… whoa!’

  ‘That’s the understatement of the century,’ I go. ‘I mean, she’d found out that Tim wasn’t her actual old man ages before. I think she was actually happy about that.’

  ‘They never got on.’

  ‘I know. Anyway, the real culprit was supposed have been some Greek shipping dude. Billionaire. Blah blah blah. That was the rumour.

  ‘Anyway, there I am in Andorra, supposed to be having dinner with the old man after the match. He did an unbelievable job coaching the forwards, by the way, though I’d never say it to the focker’s face. So we’re sitting there and I happen to be talking about how much I’m missing Honor. Then he storts banging on about the special bond between a father and daughter. Then I notice there’s, like, three places set at the table? I’m thinking, what’s the Jack here? Next thing, I look up and Erika’s there.’

  ‘That’s how you found out?’ he goes.

  I’m there, ‘Big-tim
e.’

  ‘Jesus. And how are things between you – as in you and Erika?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ I go. ‘I skipped town, pretty much after finding out.’

  ‘Have you called her.’

  ‘Once. Well, she rang me. I can’t face her, though.’

  ‘But she’s your sister.’

  ‘Half.’

  ‘Half-sister, then.’

  ‘I know – that’s the issue.’

  ‘God, I never thought of that. I mean, you two…’

  ‘Rode each other. Don’t remind me.’

  ‘Jesus. I mean, Luke and Leia, at least they only kissed…’

  It’s like, why does it always have to be Star Wars?

  ‘The thing is,’ I go, ‘it’s probably not incest if you don’t know she’s your sister?’

  I poke at the coals with a bit of stick. After a good few beers, I’m suddenly getting all psychological.

  ‘Can I tell you something honestly?’ I go. ‘Like, in loads and loads of ways, I know I’m a fock-up? I mean, Lauren’s right – I had it all. Wife, home, daughter. Money, looks, body…’

  ‘Well, she never mentioned those, Ross.’

  ‘Dude, I’m paraphrasing. The point is, I threw it away. Except for the last three. But, I have to tell you – and this is something you should remember – forget the moo, forget the bod, forget the boat race, if it wasn’t for my kids, I’d probably be one seriously unhappy dude right now.’

  He gets what I’m saying. Has to be said, I’ve missed him. ‘Would you like more,’ he goes, ‘as in, kids?’

  I look down at the old knackers – mashed. ‘I think more might be out of the question now!’ I go, and the two of us crack our holes laughing and end up laughing for seriously ages.

  Eventually, I tell him we should probably throw some carcass on this baby and he goes inside to get the steaks and Lauren. He’s gone for, like, five minutes and I hear what I’m pretty sure are, like, raised voices. When he comes out he says that Lauren’s gone to bed. She’s got, like, a migraine?

  I just nod, sort of, like, sadly and go, ‘All the more for us, then.’

  I wake up with that feeling of not knowing where the fock I am. The full-size bust of Darth Maul at the bottom of the bed reminds that I’m in Christian and Lauren’s spare room. It turned out to be a late one. At some point the conversation moved on to his plans for the casino. It’s going to have, like, its own currency – as in, Toydarian credits? It’s also going to have, like, a full-size AT-AT, a virtual Pod Race with actual Pod Cors and a proper Rebo Band – men in costumes, obviously – playing in the nightclub.

  I listened to, like, hours of this shit. We were pouring the JD into us all night – finished the entire bottle I brought with me. It was, like, six o’clock in the morning when Christian crawled off to bed, focking rubber. He never could handle spirits.

  I realize, roysh, very suddenly, that the reason I’m awake is that my actual phone is ringing. I check caller ID and it’s, like, Sorcha, probably ringing to tell me that lace is the sexiest fabric of the new season or that Ice Blue is going to be huge this year with Prada, Vuitton and Stella.

  I answer it anyway.

  She’s crying.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ I go.

  ‘It’s Honor,’ she blurts out.

  I’m there, ‘Honor?’ immediately throwing back the sheets. ‘What’s wrong with her?’

  It’s five minutes before I can get even a proper word out of her.

  ‘I had to take her to see a behavioural psychologist this morning,’ she goes.

  ‘A what?’ I’m there obviously going.

  ‘Oh, Ross, she lost it the other night after you were here. Three o’clock in the morning, she was screaming the house down. Her eyes were going literally crazy…’

  ‘Jesus.’

  ‘She kept clenching and unclenching her jaw. I thought she was having a fit.’

  ‘And she wasn’t?’

  ‘No, we took her to the emergency room and they just gave us a card for this, like I told you, behavioural psychologist. Ross, am I that bad a mother?’

  ‘I wouldn’t have thought so. I mean, what did this psychologist dude say?’

  ‘He asked me – oh my God, I can hardly bring myself to say it, Ross…’

  ‘What?’

  ‘He asked me if I’d been caboosing her?’

  ‘Caboosing her?’

  ‘Yeah, it’s when you give a positive comment, immediately followed by, like, a negative one? You were a really good girl tonight – much better than you were yesterday. How could anyone think me capable of that, Ross?’

  ‘Er, I don’t know.’

  ‘Do I look like a monster?’

  ‘Of course not. I hope Cillian decked the goy.’

  ‘No,’ she goes, ‘he didn’t come with me. We ended up getting in this – oh my God – huge fight last night. He tried to say that it was… that it was your being here that’s unsettled her.’

  ‘Whoa,’ I go, ‘I’m her actual father.’

  ‘I know, but he says she’s emotionally confused.’

  ‘He’s going to be emotionally confused when I’m done slapping him,’ I go, throwing my legs out of the bed. ‘I’m driving back…’

  I throw on the old threads and take a wander around the gaff. Christian and Lauren are nowhere to be seen.

  I step out onto the porch. It’s another scorcher of a day. I think about picking up our empty cans from last night, but then I spot the pair of them in the distance, walking along the shore of Lake Ewok, holding actual hands.

  I tip down.

  ‘Christian, you dirty dog,’ I shout from a distance. ‘You were focked out of Irish college for the same thing!’

  She is not a happy rabbit, from the way she’s looking at me. The first thing she goes to me is, ‘Why did you give him spirits?’

  I’m like, ‘Whoa, horsy. If he wants to drink JD, who am I to stop him? He’s a big boy now – makes all his own decisions.’

  I can feel Christian’s pain, just looking at him. He’s hanging, the poor focker.

  She’s there, ‘What if I went into labour? He’s in no state to drive me to the hospital.’

  I don’t even bother my orse arguing with her – there’s no point when they lose it like that?

  ‘Well,’ I go, ‘the good news from your point of view is that I’m going to have to head back to LA.’

  ‘You mean now?’ Christian goes. You can tell, roysh, that it hurts for him to even talk.

  I’m there, ‘Yeah. Sorcha rang. Bit of a problem with Honor.’

  ‘Is she okay?’ Lauren goes, suddenly all full of concern.

  I’m like, ‘Yeah, it’s a weird one – she’s been going a bit manic lately. Won’t settle at night. Belting other kids. All sorts…’

  ‘She’s had a lot of upheaval in her life recently,’ Lauren goes, which is a definite dig at me.

  ‘Do you know what I’m thinking,’ I go, ‘as I’m talking to you here? I’ve been letting her have the odd coffee…’

  Lauren’s like, ‘What?’

  ‘Yeah, just the odd one. And she’s absolutely mad for it. Like mother, like daughter. You know Sorcha. She’s in and out of Storbucks like a homeless man with a bladder problem…’

  ‘You’ve been giving an eighteen-month-old baby coffee?’

  ‘Just baby ones. Usually espressos. Now the thing is – possibly me being paranoid here – I’m actually beginning to wonder if that’s somehow the cause…’

  Lauren loses it. Even Christian looks worried about what she might do. ‘Of course it’s the fucking cause,’ she goes. ‘You’ve got her addicted to caffeine…’

  ‘Addicted?’

  She looks like she wants to tear my towns clean off this time.

  ‘You have to tell Sorcha,’ she goes and the way she says it, it’s not an actual suggestion.

  I’m there, ‘I will,’ genuinely terrified. ‘As in, I will if I have to.’

  ‘What do you me
an, if you have to?’

  Christian’s pulling faces at me, telling me to shut the fock up, quit while I’m ahead and whatever. But of course I’m stupid. I have to go, ‘I was thinking I could always try to, like, wean her off?’

  ‘Wean her off?’

  ‘I don’t know, Buckys do, like, chai teas, don’t they? Maybe I could get her onto them. Bear in mind, I’m just thinking out loud here. Then onto decaf. Then eventually normal shit like Coke or whatever.’

  ‘I don’t believe it,’ Lauren goes. ‘I don’t believe it,’ and at first I’m thinking, as reactions go, this is a bit over the top. But then I realize that’s it’s not me she’s going spare about? Because she can’t catch her breath and her face is, like, full of panic. And I’ve seen that face before. I saw it with Sorcha. She’s going into labour.

  ‘It’s coming,’ she’s suddenly going. ‘My waters just broke. It’s coming now!’

  I look at Christian and the goy has just frozen – doesn’t know what to do. He’s not the only one either.

  ‘Help me to the ground,’ Lauren goes and we each grab an orm and we lower her down.

  She’s suddenly roaring at Christian. ‘We went to classes for this,’ she goes, pulling up her skirt, then whipping down her, well, I suppose, knickers. ‘You’re supposed to know what to do,’ but the poor focker’s gone. Too hungover to even know his own name.

  I’m there, ‘Come on, Dude, get your shit together,’ because obviously I’m not going to be any use here.

  Then all of a sudden I see his hand go up to his mouth and he turns away from us and the next we know he’s bent in two, spewing his ring. The thing is, roysh, the second I hear it splashing on the ground, I feel my own guts do a somersault. Then the waft of puke and stale bourbon reaches my nostrils and I get that shorp taste in my mouth that you get when you know you’re going to vom.

  I literally can’t keep it in. I’m like, ‘Eeeuuuggghhh!!!’ spitting chunks as well, and it’s pretty much projectile?

  ‘You useless fuckers!’ Lauren’s, like, roaring at the two of us, then she storts going, ‘Help! Someone! Help!’

  That’s when a group of Ewoks suddenly comes running. Well, dwarves dressed up as Ewoks. The leader, who Christian later identifies as Chief Chirpa, takes total chorge of the situation. Turns out he did, like, three years in medical school?