Quote from Prim’s mum’s diary
ad wanted to have a talk with me. He actually did have a talk with me. It was nice. Weird. Really weird, actually. But nice that he felt the need to talk to me about it. To ask my permission or whatever. It was to do with Sorrel. He likes her. Like, like-likes her. In that special way that men who fancy ladies get with ladies that they fancy. Which is almost impossibly weird but makes a kind of sense, if you look at opposites attracting and all that. Like, polar opposites.
Also, he was horrible to Mum. I didn’t actually give him permission to ask Sorrel out. I said I’d think about it. Because it is so weird and I don’t know if Mum would have liked it. In fact, I know she would have hated it. Sorrel probably wouldn’t have ever gotten to hang out with Dad for any period of time at all if Mum were alive, because I would only have been with him on certain weekends still. Oh, God. The creepiness of it all. It is all SO CREEPY. And wrong. But at the same time I want him to be … happy? And maybe she would be good for him?
It was not the most awkward conversation we have ever had. Mainly because I once had to explain what a moon-cup was to him. He thought it was a diaphragm and was asking me all these subtle are-you-having-sexand-if-so-why-is-your-contraception-so-damned-retro type of questions.
Like, ‘You know what a condom is, don’t you, Primmy? It’s a sort of a contraceptive sheath.’
Whereupon my ears started to bleed and I said, ‘It’s a moon-cup dad, it’s a moon-cup. It is for lady-time, not for sexy-time. There have been no sexy times. There will be no sexy times for the foreseeable future. I will inform you in writing if I have need of any further such chats. Please leave.’
Which he duly did, fair play to him. Fintan is more than capable of taking a hint. Particularly when it comes in the form of an emphatic plea.
‘Since when have you liked Sorrel?’ I asked, because it is always good to know these things.
‘Since … for a while anyway.’
‘Did you fancy her when you were going out with Mum?’
‘NO. No. God, no. Why would you even ask me that?’
‘Because I wondered. And I’m reading her diaries, wherein she is convinced that you are cheating on her.’
‘I hated that bit.’
‘Probably because you don’t come off too well.’
‘No. I really don’t. I could have handled that whole business with your mum a lot better. I did apologise to her later on. But …’
‘She wasn’t too into it?’
‘No. No, she wasn’t. Anyway, let me know what you think about Sorrel. Because I would like to ask her to go to dinner or something. But not if it would be … problematic for you.’
‘OK. Dad?’
‘Yes?’
‘I appreciate your telling me about this. It’s decent of you.’
‘Well, I’m trying my best at this full-time parent craic. I think we’re doing pretty well actually. Now that we’re used to each other.’
He smiled at me and I smiled back and felt a surge of love.
‘Go Team Leary-Hamilton!’
‘I am not referring to us as that.’
But, like all good fathers, when I held my hand up for a high five, he did not leave me hanging. I am going to get T-shirts made for us. And then insist he wear them. I know that means I’d have to wear them too, but it would be kind of worth it.
Robb texted me to say he missed boarding school and that there was nothing to eat in his fridge. He signed off with an x. It was a weird combination of boring and flirty. I mean, if someone is hoping to kiss you, as the x would imply, then why would they fill their text with only moaning? I texted him back.
Sloths are tree-dwelling mammals with very little muscle mass. x
Y r u talking about sloths to me? X
Thousands of years ago, sloths lived on the ground and were as large as elephants. X
They were not. x
Were so. They leave their trees to poo, like once a week. X
U r so weird.
Sloths enjoy sleeping for up to twenty hours a day.
Stop texting me about sloths. What u up 2? x
Sloths are excellent swimmers. They only have their claws as defence against predators. X
I hate sloths. x
You can’t hate sloths. Their main source of nutrition is leaves. X
I wish I were a sloth. There is nothing in the fridge. X
I think from now on whenever he starts in on boarding-school tales, I am going to bombard him with useless facts about animals that I have learned from Ella or the Internet. It will amuse me and it isn’t really bullying because proper bullying isn’t edifying. Like, people don’t learn something while they are getting bullied. Ah, the seductive dance of boy-texting. I have missed it so. I like Robb with two bees better when he is a boy who is texting me than I do when he is a boy who is in the room with me in real life. It is perplexing. I hope I don’t talk myself into hooking up with him again out of boredom. It is probably my destiny. Much like the destiny of the sloth is to hang from a tree. Sometimes, even after sloths are dead they hang from trees. Their claws are that powerful. I wonder, even after I am dead, if I will roll my eyes when people say stupid stuff. That seems to be my most powerful reflex.
The baby keeps kicking. It’s moving more and more. Getting ready to escape into the world and be a person. I’m scared of what that will mean for me. I wonder will it bring me and Fintan closer together? That’s an awful lot to put on a baby. But I would like if that happened, I think. I think I would like that a lot. To be a perfect little shining family together. For us to be a solid thing. A certainty.
Quote from Prim’s mum’s diary
iara came over. She was in bits. Syzmon is still having his house party. And he wants her to come. ‘He wants all of us to be there, Prim.’
‘That’s grand, though, isn’t it? I mean, you guys are supposed to still be friends and all that?’ I don’t know Syzmon all that well, but I am very invested in maintaining what few friends I have. And also, parties!
‘I know. But I don’t know if I’m ready to see him. What if I accidentally hook up with him?’ She spread her hands out wide, like this was an innocent thing that could befall just about anyone.
‘It’s hard to accidentally hook up with someone,’ I explained. I am a bit of an expert on this subject, as you will notice in a second.
‘You accidentally hooked up with Kevin about seven times.’ She made a pointy finger of accusation.
I raised an eyebrow. She had a point.
‘Not all of those were accidents. They were kind of informed accidents. Or were they? I mean, I didn’t want to with the clever bits of me, but then there were the needy-for-affection bits of me. And they won.’
‘OK.’ She didn’t say OK like she meant OK. She said it as though it sounded dreadful.
‘So my advice would be to amputate your needy bits pre-party.’
‘That sounds painful.’
‘Maybe you could make out with someone else instead? A sort of convenient substitute?’
‘That would be really unfair on him, Prim. Oh, God. What if he does that to me?’
‘Then we can leave.’
‘OK. OK. We can do this.’
‘We totally can.’
‘Prim?’
‘Yes, Ciara?’
‘Can we do drinking at the party?’
‘Of course we can.’
‘I think that I would like something sugary that makes me not care about things.’
‘Is there a drink for that?’
‘I’m not sure. Probably. I have it in my head that it would be either blue or pink.’
‘I’ll see what I can do. Do you have ID?’ I really want ID – it makes boldness so much easier.
‘Yes! I have my cousin’s college ID. She left it here when she visited and I nicked it from her wallet.’
‘Ciara!’ I was shocked and not a little jealous.
‘What? They’re less than a tenner to r
eplace, and we gave her fifty for her birthday, so she’s actually made a profit from our family.’ She smoothed her skirt over her knees like that was the end of the matter.
‘It’s the principle of the thing. It is wrong to steal people’s stuff.’
‘Well, it was wrong of her stupid parents to go mental at me when Grandma Lily’s will was read out.’
‘Fair point.’
Ciara is funny. She’s really moral in some ways and then she surprises you. It’s good she has ID anyway. Wouldn’t be getting any pink and blue drinks without it. Fintan only has whiskeys and wines and things. And they are not the most fun to drink. I hate the taste of whiskey. It feels like dirty sugar only burny. And whatever you mix it with, it overpowers. Maybe it will be an acquired taste, like blue cheese, which I also hate. I’m not prepared to work hard enough at it to acquire it any time soon, though.
Poor Ciara, I wonder if she will hook up with Syzmon at the party. It feels like she might. Particularly if there is drink involved. I’m not too gone on drink myself. Partly because my mum is dead because of it. And partly because I feel like this big responsibility to look after myself, because it’s not like anyone else is going to. I mean, there’s no-one who will properly mind me, tuck me into bed and take the day off work. Well, Dad will take the day off. But he tends to forget about me after a while and go to the bank or whatever else he needs to do. Is it weird that I want someone to dance attendance on me when I’m not feeling well? It is highly immature, for one thing. I should be stoic. I should be, like, ninety per cent more stoic than I am. As stoic as an aging cowboy. As stoic as a Victorian nanny. As stoic as a tree.
When I was thirteen, I thought that I would be so much wiser at sixteen. I remember really looking up to Felix, because he was in Junior Cert and practically a man. I don’t feel any wiser, though. I feel the exact same, only with more boobs and general knowledge. Sometimes, I even feel a bit sillier. I mean, when I was thirteen, I had never cut myself or kissed the boy my best friend fancied first. I wonder when I will start to feel like I have a handle on this whole life business? Soon, I hope. I’d like it to be soon.
Joel is coming to Syzmon’s party as well. He would like to bring Duncan. And Syzmon has said that it would be OK to bring him along. But Joel is worried that people will be there and that it will get back to Anne and Liam and that they will go ape and not let him have another boyfriend again till he is in college. This is a valid concern, because I kind of felt that way myself when I first heard about Duncan. Before I met him. And even now that I have, there’s still this niggly little question mark that dangles over his head.
I think I might need to invent a new sort of question mark for that. It will probably be wearing a trench-coat.
I don’t know why trench-coats get such a bad rep, in terms of perversion. It is a versatile piece of outerwear. And by no means the only item of clothing that can be used to disguise nudity. I mean, that’s basically the point of all clothes, ever. To one extent or another. I think I am going to wear my long-sleeved 1950s-style dress with the pouffy skirt and the sweetheart neckline to the party. It is lady-like but also makes me look thin and marginally classier than normal. Or maybe I should just go for jeans. I like standing out and being the only one dressed like me, but not to a creepy extent, where I’m dressed for a wedding when everyone else is dressed for a gig.
I wonder will Kevin and Siobhán be there? Syzmon gets on quite well with Kevin. He was going to start LARPing with us a while back. I don’t know if he ever did. I haven’t gone to anything with that crowd in months.
Fintan called. He said that he is sorry he was so harsh. And that he should have taken my pregnancy hormones into account. But that I should try to keep them in check and remember that there are two of us in it. That he is there as well. And that he didn’t ask for this. It started out well, his apology. But by the end, I felt like I was the one who should be saying sorry.
Quote from Prim’s mum’s diary
olphin Laura called. She is going to Syzmon’s party and wanted to know if I was going too, because it has been ages. It has been ages for a reason. I really like Dolphin Laura, but her boyfriend is the son of the dude who killed my mum, so I kind of get a bit itchy around her. A bit thinky.
Isn’t thinking weird? Sometimes it’s pure lovely, you get to wonder things like what life would be like if you were in a band on a world tour and what sort of music you would make and how you would answer questions in interviews. Or you can think about places to visit when you are older. And you can think about your friends and how awesome they are and how lucky you are to have them, but all of a sudden it can swoop and it’s like, If you were in a band, Prim, you would develop a drug problem and not a classy one where no-one has any idea for ages, but a messy one where you’re wetting yourself onstage and saying outrageous things just to make people notice you and then you offend the wrong person and all of a sudden you’re out of the band and they have a new lead singer/guitarist who is infinitely cooler and more popular than you (maybe Dolphin Laura or, in my worst moments, Karen) and none of them talk to you though you always swore you’d be friends for ever. Also, rehab is, like, super expensive, almost as expensive as maintaining a drug habit, so you’re in a lot of debt and have to get a job as a janitor at your old secondary school and everyone looks at you and says things like ‘How are the mighty fallen!’ and ‘You look ridiculous.’ And places I’d like to visit can so easily swoop into places I will never get to visit with Mum. Or how will I support myself when I’m older now that Fintan has accustomed me to the finer things in life, like personal space and cheeses and little pots of pâté bought from cheesemongers?
And the friends thing is probably the most dangerous of all because you’re, like, I’m so lucky to have such awesome friends, I’m so glad they like me for who I am and then you remember that who you are is dreadful and start analysing ridiculous things you have said and ultimately deciding that they are either friends with you as a cruel bet, which is unlikely because they are good people, and it would have to have been a long-running bet. Or they are too kind not to be friendly towards you. Because who else would have you and it sucks to be lonely. And they are kind, you know that they are kind. So out of pity.
Whenever someone is in a bad mood, I always find myself wondering if it is because of me, if it is something I have done, if there is a way for me to make it up to them. But sometimes people are just tired or bereaved or grumpy or whatever. I mean, it’s really egotistical isn’t it, to think that everything that happens to the people you love is, to some degree, because of you? But thinks are linked, woven together like crochet, singled and doubled and tripled in and out on top of each other and you don’t know what your actions will mean, the things they can result in. All your actions loop around a hoop and then it pulls through other people’s actions. There was a poem we did on a past paper about how no-one is an island, we are all interlinked, and I believe it but it doesn’t comfort me. Because if we were islands, we could run our own island and do our best and sometimes maybe there would be ferries or even bridges, but we’d be far enough apart not to hurt each other so much every day. You know? Everything hurts. And certain thoughts are dangerous and so are certain tastes and smells and sounds that take you back to happier times that now are sad in retrospect. Or times that were just sad all by themselves. I never tell Dad what I get on tests. Because I got an A the day Mum died and I came home all proud. I don’t want that to happen ever again.
I wonder do other people think like this? Dad and Ciara and Joel and Syzmon and Sorrel and everyone else in the world. Do they think like me? No wonder they’re sometimes tired if they do. Being a human being is exhausting. And that’s just the internal stuff. And there’s so much outside stuff to do as well. Just being in the world takes up so much and most of it is ’cause of other people. Other people looping into the granny square of you, too strongly to unravel. I don’t know whether to try to limit that or not. Sometimes all those loops insid
e your square are lovely and it feels like the cosiest rightest blanket in the world, and other times it feels loaded, like those influenza blankets the pilgrims in America used to swap with the Native Americans back in the day. Cosy, but ultimately fatal.
If I can survive losing Mum, I can pretty much survive losing anyone, I think. Thing is, I’m not sure I entirely survived it. I mean, I coped, but I amn’t the same person that I was before it happened. I had been sheltered and loved all my life and I knew that the world was a bad place. I mean, I had seen the news and knew about war and death and cancer and all the other things that lurk in corners waiting for their moment but I didn’t have firsthand knowledge. I wasn’t a primary source.
On the plus side, sometimes there are parties.
Fintan forgot my birthday. He better not forget the baby’s birthday, once it arrives. It’s pretty exciting being 19. I am officially the oldest sort of teenage mother you can be. Sorrel says Fintan isn’t worth it. What she doesn’t understand is that he has to be. Because if he’s not worth it then what do I have left? A baby I’m not qualified to care for. And nothing.
Quote from Prim’s mum’s diary
evin is coming, so I texted Syzmon and asked if it was cool if I brought my new friend, Robb with two bees, to the party. He said that it was and asked if he should let Kevin know that I was bringing a boyfriend. Robb with two bees is not my official boyfriend, nor do I want him to be, so I said it wasn’t necessary. If he were my boyfriend, I would have it tattooed on Kevin’s face in mirror writing. I found someone as well. Look. I’m good enough for someone else. A proper boy with arms and legs and everything.
Primperfect Page 9
