‘You’ll take what you’re given,’ Pat calls after him, placing the pint with the sloppy head in front of him.
‘Sure seen as it was pulled by the lovely Annie, I’ll let you away with it, just this once mind.’
‘Would ya ever fuck off with yourself, Ned, you’re not at your auntie’s now.’
‘Who are ya fucking tellin’.’ He takes a big gasping sip of his pint, running his thumb along the frosted condensed sides.
Ma steadies her gaze on my freshly splinted finger, watches it as I shield it close to my chest.
‘So, what did he want?’ Ma asks, when she is sure Pat is occupied, not wanting to let people know that I could be involved, that I’m projecting or emulating Da, but word is whispering about the place, I can feel the hum of it, word always gets out about the place here.
‘Ah nothing, Ma,’ I say, but the look on her, pure disappointment, her steady gaze not leaving my finger.
‘Well, looks like he meant business whatever it was.’ She’s nodding at the bandage, her well used to home-job patch-ups, her thinking she was done with having to keep the first-aid box hidden under her side of the bed well stocked.
‘Don’t,’ she says, holding her hand on mine, ‘just promise me, don’t,’ she says again, and is gulping back at the tears that just come easily to her now, that never did before, turns her back to me so she can wipe them away quickly, without me having to see. I shift on the stool, trying to get myself settled, trying to ignore the looks she keeps throwing, trying to ignore the Da in me, creeping right in, making it harder and harder to hide.
Laughs are coming from the snug. Dessie is there, in the middle as usual, Carthy still lingering on the edges. To the outsider all looks casual. It’s a great bunch of lads catching up on the realities of life, bitching about the missus or the boss or spreading the goss, just like any flock seen hugging their pints up and down the country. To the outsider. He knows that I’m there, but he won’t register or recognise. There’s no nod of the head, or wink of the eye, or any acknowledgement needed for him to know that I’m there, or to ever even doubt that I would show up in the first place.
My phone pings on the bar where I’ve left it; I flinch at the sound of it.
Hey, how’s it going? Look, sorry, yeah? I really am, wondering if you wanted to head into town, grab a coffee, drink, head to the cinema, whatever? Let us know, all right?
Fucking Johnny. I delete, and push the phone deep into my pocket.
It’s getting busier; I can feel the press of them crowded up around me, shouting their orders up at the bar. I’m closed in, my pint is slowly sipped gone, and the quadruple-Nurofen oblivion for the finger is wearing off and the dull throbbing pain of it is just throbbing harder and he knows it, senses that I’m about to leave, on my last edge of patience, dissects my unease with an ‘Are ya not calling in to us, Joe’ across the hatch, timing his moment perfectly, as usual. I’m weighing up the options when I catch the face on Carthy, the snitching little bastard, only disgusted that I’m being asked into the inner circle, only shocked that I’ve made my way in, only sickened to fuck that I’m worming into where he wants to be, without ever having to lick even one hole. He was always like that, ever since we were kids, always wanting what I had; if I’d a new jumper, he’d have his Ma get the same one, if I said I liked fish-finger sandwiches, he’d be going on about how much he loved them too, and no matter where I sat in school, he wanted to be right in there beside me.
‘Ah sure, why not,’ I call back, and Ma is giving me a look, to sit the fuck back down, the telepathic power of it, willing me to stay the fuck where I was, but putting that little shit Carthy back in his box is just too hard to resist.
I make a right show pushing past him, smirking into his face, daring him to say anything, and he’s raging too, so he is, raging to fucking fuck. I can tell by the hold of him.
‘Rat,’ I whisper into the side of him.
‘What did you say?’ he says, pulling at the elbow of me, his eyes hollowed open and wide, all pupil and black.
‘You heard.’ I reef my arm away, giving a quick stamp closer towards him as I do, making him jump a bit, the fright of him, the fear of him still, of me.
‘What was all that about,’ Dessie says, nodding towards Carthy, as I squeeze myself in beside him.
‘Ah nothing much,’ I say, but the shock still lingering, clinging to him is making me uncertain, gnawing away at me, unsettling, not so sure it was him who ratted me out after all.
‘Annie, another pint here for Joe.’ He turns himself back to me, catching me in my unease, taking it in, absolutely revelling in it, keeping me how he likes it, unsteady, all kept on the back foot.
‘Your Da is doing well,’ he says. I’m not sure what it is I’m supposed to say, not sure of what is expected of me, so I don’t say anything, just sip at the pint in front of me, slammed down by Ma, her expression pleading with me to just go home.
‘But he’s starting to get a bit soft, your Finn has started to scoop at the hardness of him,’ he says, and I grip my pint harder at the mention of his name, at the power of it, that I can still be shocked by it, after all these months.
‘He says you wouldn’t be up for what I’m asking,’ he’s leaning in tighter to me now, ‘but I think he just doesn’t want me asking,’ he leans back, ‘and then there is the matter of young Sabine,’ he says, sipping at his own pint now.
‘What are ya asking?’ I say.
‘Aha, so I was right,’ he says, clapping me on the back. ‘I knew I could count on you, son,’ he says, his hand now gripping on my neck.
‘What are ya asking?’ I say again, and he laughs at that.
‘Well, Finney certainly didn’t suck the hardness out of you.’ He sips away again. I wait until he’s ready, keep the silence there between us until he fills it.
‘One of our runners let us down, we need a new face for a job this Friday.’ I still keep to myself, don’t give anything away.
‘We need someone fresh, see, someone they won’t expect, it’ll take just a few minutes of your time – leave a package for one of our lads, your Sabine fully off the hook, and maybe a few bob for yourself too, all going well.’ I look at him then, he gives me a wink, and I think of all the bills piling, and the final notices unopened, and the rent that is due, and Sabine. Sabine’s debt completely paid.
‘So, are ya in,’ he asks, looking like he’s not too bothered by my response, looking like he doesn’t really care which way I go.
‘A one-time thing,’ I say finally.
‘I suppose it could be,’ he says, looking straight at me, both of us knowing that it just isn’t true, ‘if you want it to be,’ he says, keeping his stare right there.
‘A one-time thing,’ I say again, finally, firmly.
‘All right so, a one-time thing,’ he glints, then moves himself away, slapping the table in front of him with ‘Another round there, Annie,’ Ma doing her best to keep up, to stay in her place and not to kick the fucking Badger’s den, but the grip of her hand on the pump at the bar tells me I’ll be hearing it all from her later. As another pint is placed in front of me, Dessie leans himself in closer, right into my ear, every inch of stale beer and smoke suppressing my space.
‘Never forget, Joe, I always protect my own.’ He buys me another drink, and another, and I’d forgotten how much fun ‘Uncle Dessie’ is, and I ignore the looks that Ma is giving, and I take the drinks that I’m being given, and maybe slipping into Da’s mould wouldn’t be so bad after all.
Finn
We went in on the bus, Joe and me, and stopped in for a chip butty in the Abrakebabra first, right next door. ‘God knows what shite they’ll be giving you in here,’ Joe said, as I squeezed extra tomato sauce on mine. Ma wanted to come, and Da too, seeing as it was my first one, but there was work with Ma, and business with Da, and sure there would be loads more, I told them, five, so they said, one a week.
Joe took me out early from school and everything. For a
minute I thought Mrs O’Sullivan was going to give me a hug on the way out the door – thank Jaysus she didn’t, scarlet for me that like, there in front of everyone – but she settled for a pat on the back, even though she knew I’d be back in tomorrow. I hoped she wouldn’t be doing it every week like, making a big deal out of it.
We went in through the hospital sliding doors, gassed by a cloud of smoke as we entered, the seasoned smokers all hacking away, not a bother to them like, and went straight up to the ward. Joe had been told where to go, no waiting around for us, fancy VIPs we were. Nurse Sarah was already there and Dr Kennedy, all business-like, ready to go.
‘Hello, Finn son, we’ll get you set up in a jiffy,’ in a jiffy, and I tried to catch Joe’s eye; who the hell said in a jiffy, Dr Kennedy, that’s who.
‘Right, Finn, we’ll just take a blood sample first, make sure we’re all ready to go, that there are no extra viruses in there,’ and he must have seen the panic, ‘it should be fine, son, you’ve been feeling OK? No coughs or sniffles or anything like that?’
‘No, all has been grand, Doctor,’ Joe answered for me. The seriousness on his face, the concentration, the drinking of it all in, started to scare me.
‘I’m just going to put a little line in here, Finn, right there in the fold of your arm.’ It tickled when he pressed on it, and Joe moved in closer, stood at the other side of me.
‘We’ll keep it in, this little tube thing here, so try to mind it if you can, it means we don’t have to keep redoing it at every visit.’ He started squeezing my arm, tight, helping the veins to pop right out.
‘Just a little scratch now,’ and he had it in, and taped, and bandaged into place and two lots of blood already taken, just like that. It was already starting to itch, the place where he’d stuck it, the little tube. I wasn’t sure I liked the idea of it hanging out of me like that, all the time. What would happen to it when I went swimming, or what if it got knocked out in a tackle, or if it got caught on the sleeve of my Dublin jersey on match day? If it was reefed out of me, would that do even more damage to my blood?
‘Right, I’ll just get this tested, then we’ll order up your chemo cocktail and we’ll be good to go.’ He was out the door, with my two bloody capsules.
I was told I could leave for a bit, take a look around, go to the shop, but I didn’t do any of those things. Instead I inspected the ward I was in and this time I wasn’t on my own; the room was full with kids like me, some in the beds, some in chairs, some with curtains closed around them tight, blocking. All with headphones in, iPads being played and parents fussing around them, being completely ignored. Joe tried not to look too hard at the others, I could see him taking quick sideways glances, but I couldn’t get enough. I took in those with bandanas, those without, those with tubes in their nose, and I wanted to ask them everything.
‘Your first time,’ a boy about my age asked, a blue and black bandana tied around his head, barely looking up from his Nintendo DS.
‘Yeah, yours,’ I said, and immediately felt like an idiot, obviously it wasn’t his first time.
‘Ha, no. I’m on round two,’ and he put the DS down, ‘prevention this time I’m told,’ and some of the others rolled their eyes at this. ‘I’m Michael by the way.’
‘Finn,’ I answered back.
‘Well, Finn, make sure they give you the sick meds, helps a lot after, stops you puking like a scene from The Exorcist.’ A few laughed and nodded at that and Michael stuck back in his headphones, signalling that our conversation was over. Not wanting to make friends, or make small chat, or do anything at all really.
‘Don’t be too upset,’ and Nurse Sarah was back at my side, ‘most here just want to get in and out,’ but sure it made sense, why would you want to make friends with someone who might not be there, or stick around, or die. I looked to Joe; he was still right there beside me. He put a hand on my shoulder, gave it the lightest of squeezes. Sure who needed chemo boy when I had Joe anyway.
‘So, I’ve the biggest decision of all now to be placing on you – would you like the bed, or the chair?’ Nurse Sarah asked, her two hands out, surfing her body in between the two, a big smile on her face. It took me a while to cop she meant for the chemo.
‘Oh the chair, definitely,’ I said, no way was I lying in the bed like a bleedin’ auld lad or something.
‘Great choice, sir,’ she said, and propped up some pillows on the back of the armchair. ‘Right so, get yourself settled in there now,’ Sarah said, and I hopped into the chair. Joe hung about awkwardly behind, but close enough to still protect, still see what was going on.
I could see the bag of chemo in Sarah’s hand, all ready to go. I’d been told how it would work, knew what to expect, but Joe couldn’t hide the fear all over his face, his eyes darting from the bag, to me, to Sarah, back to me. All rapid response like.
‘It’ll be about four hours today, love,’ said Sarah, as she hooked the bag up to my line. ‘But you can wheel yourself around, see, like this,’ and she showed me how the bag moved, on a big coat stand with wheels.
‘Jaysus, four hours,’ Joe said, once she had left, ‘we should have brought some stuff with us, downloaded a few movies, brought snacks. Four bleedin’ hours.’ He started pacing up and down.
‘Ah sure it’s grand, don’t I have you to talk to.’
‘For four hours.’ He was getting pissed off.
‘And sure you can go to the shop and get me stuff, you know, because I have the cancer and all.’ I made my eyes really wide, and tried to make them well up for extra effect.
‘Fuck off. You’ve got cancer? Since fucking when?’ And we busted our holes.
‘So will ya go to the shop,’ I asked, pushing my luck again.
‘Arra, go on so, what do you want?’
‘A Slush Puppie. And get a mix of flavours, blue, red and brown, but don’t let them mix it, I want to see the stripes.’
‘You contrary little bastard,’ Joe laughed, but he went to get it all the same.
Joe
I’m trying to be all quiet, yeah, but the drink in me, the buzz of it, is making it harder than required. I tried phoning, but she had it turned off, so here I am at her bedroom window, curtains shut tight, trying to get her to answer the door.
‘Sabine,’ I whisper again, in between fits of giggles. My knocking is getting louder and her face is at the window, all haunted black, and the click of the door has her in front of me.
‘What the fuck, Joe.’ I pull at her hand, bring her with me, to the roof of the flats, and we look over the lights of our city. ‘You’re fucking mental, you are,’ she says, but gives me a punch in the arm. I catch her hand and entwine it in mine.
‘And you’re fucking magic.’ I turn her hand to kiss the inside of her wrist.
‘You’re locked,’ she says, taking her hand back and clasping them between her shivering knees.
‘Sorry. Yeah, sorry.’ I go to give her my coat, to stop the shivers of her, but then remember I left it in the Tavern and I start to take off my T-shirt instead.
‘Fuck, Joe.’ She stands up, arm grasped around herself, bouncing up and down on the spot. I can’t get the shirt over my head, I’m stuck; I lie flat on my back stuck to shit, one arm in, one arm out, all hokey-cokeying myself.
‘Look, is there something you wanted,’ she asks, cutting through my dilemma.
‘Sorry, Sabine,’ I say again, get myself up, leave the T-shirt twisted as it is, ‘sorry, I am, sorry.’ But her arms are still tight, shielded against me.
‘It’s three in the morning, Joe, what do you fucking want?’ I think it’s the first time that I’m properly drunk. I love the courage, the electricity that it gives me; like I’m on top of the fucking world. I need to explain, to let her know. I move closer, but I’m stumbling, and the blur of her is starting to multiply, making her harder to reach.
‘Jesus, who the fuck got you into this state?’ It’s more to herself I think than it is to me, but I need to tell her. Tell her wha
t I came here to do.
‘I’ve sorted things with The Badger,’ I say, coming up to her, expecting her to see, expecting her to realise what I’m starting to see and realise myself.
‘Sorry,’ she says.
‘The Badger, it’s all sorted. No more hassling, for you or Ma.’
‘Seriously, Joe, what the fuck are you on about,’ and the bounce of her is gone, the heat of her anger putting a right stop to that.
‘Ah don’t be like that,’ I say, moving closer. ‘I did it for us, for Ma.’ I try to move closer again, testing the waters, seeing if she’ll let me in.
‘Joe, don’t tell me you’re mixing with fucking Murphy.’ She is starting to pace now, in small laps right in front of me, making the blur of her intensify.
‘He’s not really that bad, Sabine, and it’s just something small, a favour is all, just once like.’ She stops her pacing, arms soldier-straight, fisted at her side, and looks directly at me.
‘Don’t. Just fucking don’t. It’s Murphy. Do you think he gives a shit about me, or your Ma, or fucking you.’ She comes right up, points at me right in the ribs. ‘He doesn’t give a shit about anyone but himself, Joe,’ and she turns to go.
‘Please, don’t be like that.’ I hold her, lean into her.
‘No, Joe. No. This isn’t you. It’s not. Don’t you fucking kid yourself that this is because of me or your Ma,’ and she’s gone, leaving me to my inevitability that I’m just sick and tired of fighting any more.
Finn
Well, chemo boy was definitely right about one thing: I should have asked for the sick meds after the first session, puke was most definitely involved – a lot of it. Number two took my eyelashes and brows, and that was worse than the puke, but I was just finished number three, halfway there, and it hadn’t been that bad at all really, I was now starting to become a pro.
I knocked in for Jasmine. I was still not used to the grimace her Ma gave me when she opened the door, looking at me like I was some sort of freak. That I would somehow break apart at any given second. She didn’t know what to say to me either, which was so strange – she had known me since I was a baby, we had the photos in Ma’s old brown album with the sticky clear plastic over each one to prove it. I’m still me, I wanted to say, nothing has changed, I wanted to scream. I am still exactly the same.
Boys Don't Cry Page 10
