The Colour of Sunday Afternoons

by Robert Gollagher

Bill nodded solemnly. The two were friends again. They chatted for a few minutes before Jane returned with a huge platter of roast beef, gravy, potatoes and vegetables.

  “Dig in!” said Jane, as she sat down.

  Lilly grabbed the carving knife and began to serve up. “This looks great, Jane. Just like my mum used to make. Now, are you going to give me the lecture on why I need to meet a nice Jewish boy? Or do I get to enjoy this bliss without the tirade? That was the only problem with eating at home.”

  Jane laughed. “It’s usually me that gets lectured on boys, and it’s usually you that gives the lecture!”

  Bill helped himself to some asparagus and buttered carrots. “Jane, you’ve outdone yourself. Would you marry me? Oops, forgot. I’m already married. Maybe next time.”

  “Sure,” said Jane. “Any time. We’ll elope to Paris. Remember the good old college days? We said we’d all go to Europe together, see the sights, find exotic foreign lovers. Let’s do it.”

  “Whatever happened to those plans?” said Bill, dreamily.

  “Money happened,” said Lilly. “We discovered it runs out. Worse still, you always have to make more of the stuff. It’s endless. Someone should invent indelible money. You know, you spend it, but it never runs out. Then we’d go to Europe.” She savoured a bite of the delicious roast beef, and closed her eyes. “But no European cafe has your roast beef, Jane. Heaven!”

  “Yes, ma’am!” Bill agreed. “Mmmm ... hmmm!”

  Jane blushed. “Why, thank yuh,” she said, in her best imitation Southern-belle accent. “Yawl are such sweet talkers, welcome any time. Such flattery, my dear friends, will take you anywhere yawl wanna go!”

  “Well, I declare!” Lilly said, and then broke down laughing.

  The three friends sat there for a long time, feasting on the fine food. It was almost two hours later when Jane finally brought out the coffee. Bill, Lilly and Jane got up from the table and adjourned to the living room, drooping themselves languidly over sofa chairs and balancing coffee cups on their bulging stomachs.

  “Man, what a nice evening,” said Bill.

  Lilly nodded. “Absolutely.”

  Jane smiled. It had been a long time, she thought, since she’d had Bill and Lilly over for dinner. She must do it again, sometime soon.

  It was about then that the doorbell rang.

  “Who could that be, at this hour?” said Jane.

  Puzzled, she got up and went to the front door. The doorbell sounded a second time. Whoever it was, was certainly impatient.

  “Who is it?” she asked, without opening the door.

  “Fire service, ma’am,” came a man’s voice. “Here to put out the fire. We had an emergency call at the station.”

  Jane peeped through her spyhole. A short, fat man, in a familiar leprechaun suit, was standing there, smiling sweetly. Jane thought it was probably bad form to turn one’s guardian angel away at the door, and so, reluctantly, she let him in, although she was a little lost for words.

  Shamus Maguinty, guardian angel, handed Jane his little green leprechaun cap, which she duly hung on the coat rack.

  Since no one had said anything for a good thirty seconds, Shamus decided to break the silence. “Jane! Sorry to interrupt your dinner, but I had a message from the Guy Upstairs. Apparently, there’s an urgent fire and we have to put it out, tonight.”

  “Tonight?”

  “Tonight.”

  Jane frowned. “I’ve got visitors, you know!”

  “Be that as it may, Jane, the Guy Upstairs said ...”

  “What do you mean,” said Jane, cutting him off, “the ‘guy upstairs?’ What are you talking about? There is no upstairs.”

  “No, no, no,” said Shamus, pointing to the heavens above with a circling finger. “I mean, Upstairs. Upstairs upstairs, get it?”

  “Oh,” said Jane. “What fire?”

  “The fire in your life, of course! Your life is on fire.” Shamus shook his hand at her, reproachfully. “Don’t you remember?”

  “Uh ... well ... I mean ...”

  Angry, Shamus pushed past Jane and walked briskly down the corridor toward the living room. Jane, suddenly horrified, grabbed him by the shoulders and ran around in front of him, blocking his way. Then she took a step back, realising she was touching an angel. Actually, he felt like a perfectly ordinary man in a kitsch leprechaun suit, but technically speaking he was an angel.

  “You can’t go in there!” Jane gasped. “I’ve got friends over.”

  Shamus silenced her, patiently, by holding up a pudgy hand.

  Jane had to admit the little fellow was kind of cute: handsome, in a lovable-father-figure kind of way, even if he did need a new tailor. But she was getting desperate. “Do you really have to embarrass me in front of my friends? Couldn’t this wait?”

  “Jane,” said Shamus. “Listen carefully. I am invisible to everyone except you. So don’t go talking to me, or else they’ll think you’re crazy. Also, no one can hear me, except you. Now, I’ll be giving you some critical advice about what happens. This is a critical moment in your life. Got all that?” He looked at Jane, expectantly.

  “Er, okay ... I guess,” said Jane.

  “I can’t stay long, so make the most of it!” Shamus pulled out his pocket watch, seemed to do a few quick mental calculations, then put it away again. “Right,” he said, stepping around Jane and striding into the living room. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

  Jane, resigned to her fate, walked into the living room behind her supposedly invisible guardian angel.

  Bill and Lilly were still loafing in their sofa chairs.

  Bill looked directly at Jane. “Secret admirer?” he asked. There was no indication that he could see Shamus.

  “Oh, nothing like that. Just a friend, um, dropping off a book he borrowed. Boring, really.” Jane sat down on a vacant sofa chair.

  Shamus was wandering around the living room, examining the antique furniture. He stopped by Bill’s chair. Apparently, he was seen only by Jane.

  “Well, another happy night comes to an end,” said Bill, sadly. “I’m not looking forward to work tomorrow. But that’s just life, isn’t it? Life is hard and then you die. It makes you fat, too.”

  “Come on, Bill!” said Lilly. “You’re not that overweight. Just a bit cuddly, is all. I like a cuddly man! Cuddly is sexy.”

  “Quite right,” said Shamus. “I like that girl. But who’s the pessimist? I’ll have to have a word with his guardian angel.” No one but Jane could hear Shamus, and she only wished he would shut up; it was confusing her. Shamus walked over to Lilly. “Now, Jane, pay attention! It’s about to happen.”

  Shamus indicated Lilly was about to speak.

  “Jane, I’m worried about you. It’s ... nothing new, I know, but I’m worried.”

  Shamus held his arms out sideways, as if to say, ‘I told you so.’

  Jane ignored him.

  “Really?” said Jane, in reply to Lilly’s concern.

  “Yeah. Really. I want you tell me more about what the doctor said. What’s the story with this gut thing? It’s stress, right? Bill and I ... we still think you need to slow down.”

  Jane knew Lilly would have this out with her, sooner or later. Apparently, the time had come. “Well, it’s this pain I keep getting in my stomach. It’s like my gut is cramping up. It’s there most of the day. Not too bad, just uncomfortable, but it’s a nuisance, especially on a busy day.”

  “Uh huh.”

  “So, the doctor gave me a few options.”

  “Well?” said Bill.

  “He told me it basically comes down to lifestyle. The hours I work, the demands of my job, how much I demand of myself. Then he talked about good diet and exercise, and he wanted to know what I did for relaxation. I told him I watched the news, to keep up with current affairs. He didn’t seem very impressed by that.”

  “I’m not surprised,” said Lilly.

  “So, he gave you tablets to stop the cramps?” Bill asked.<
br />
  “Yeah ... but they didn’t work.” Jane sighed.

  “You can’t expect a tablet to fix a life,” said Shamus, profoundly.

  Jane wished Shamus would keep quiet.

  “Jane,” said Lilly, “you can’t expect a tablet to fix a life.”

  Jane looked shocked. She wondered how the words had coincided.

  Shamus beamed at her. “Pretty neat trick, huh?”

  Jane replied to Lilly. “Right. I guess you’re right, Lilly. It’s just ... everything is going so well at work. The promotion and everything. Now’s the last time I want to slow down.”

  “Yeah,” said Bill, “and you still have to make ends meet. We understand. But do you really have to push yourself until you drop? Isn’t there a happy medium?”

  Jane went on. “Well, I guess so. The doctor said I had to exercise daily, take time to rest every day, improve my diet, and think about changing my approach to work. Easy for him to say. Where on earth could I find the time?”

  “Hmmm,” said Bill.

  Lilly frowned. “Well, I’m busy, too, Jane. Schoolteaching can be a tough job. But I still make sure I take at least half an hour, most days, to do some exercise, and I still do my gardening ... and yours. That’s why your tulips are still alive! Look, Janey. You’re just way out of balance, way out of balance.”

  Jane sighed. “That’s exactly what the doctor said. But it’s a dog-eat-dog world out there. It’s hard enough for a woman to get ahead in this world as it is, but you should see the atmosphere at our monthly meetings. The air is thick with knives. Heads roll. Believe me, I’d like to take a more balanced approach to my life. I just don’t have the option.”

  “Actually, I know what you mean,” said Bill, depressed.

  Lilly was disgusted. “Bill! Whose side are you on?!”

  “Good question,” said Shamus.

  “Look, Jane,” Lilly continued. “I’m sure your doctor said there’s really no choice. I’m sure he said to slow down because your body’s showing danger signs and soon it’ll start falling apart. Did he say that? He did, didn’t he?”

  “Well ...” said Jane.

  “Come clean, Jane. He told you that you have to slow down, right now, if you want to stay healthy. And you don’t want to admit it because you’ve just been offered the promotion of your dreams. Am I right or am I right?”

  “Well ... yes. He did say that.”

  Lilly looked victorious. “I thought so.”

  “So did I,” said Bill, half-heartedly.

  The room fell silent for a moment.

  Shamus looked very pleased. “Good, good. Good, Jane! Well, I must go!” He pulled out his pocket watch, polished it vigorously in a large green handkerchief, and began to disappear, leaving the usual cloud of green smoke behind him. “Don’t forget, Jane. This is a critical moment in your life. Make sure you do something about it.”

  With that, he was completely gone.

  Bill sniffed the air. “Jane, did you leave the oven on? I think I smell smoke. Do you see that, Lilly?” He pointed at the rapidly fading green vapour.

  “Smoke?” said Lilly. “How can you talk about smoke at a time like this? Jane, we want to know. Are you going to slow down?”

  “You guys are the greatest, you know that.” Jane looked at Bill and Lilly for a moment. “I don’t know, guys. I’ll try. I’ll try. Okay?”

  “Okay,” her two friends said in unison.

  The smoke had all but disappeared.

  Joe was doing it again: beating Paul Jamieson at squash. It was their regular Wednesday night game. Paul shook his head in frustration as the latest ball flew mercilessly past. The shot was perfectly placed, very fast.

  “You’re winning again, Joe,” said Paul. “Couldn’t you lose, just once?”

  Joe shrugged. “Sorry. Hey – do you still want me to come skydiving? Return this serve, and I’ll go!”

  Paul knew what that meant: one of those miserable loop serves. He stood in the corner, waiting for it. Sure enough, Joe lobbed the ball high, so high that after rebounding from the front wall it curved down toward the opposite back corner like a falling stone. An experienced player might have defeated the serve, but to a beginner like Paul it was fatal. He swung wildly, trying to hit the ball before it dropped into the dead zone of the corner. Connecting with the rim of his racket, the ball ricocheted uselessly to the side of the court. Paul had lost another game.

  Sue called out from the gallery. “No fair! Taking advantage of a beginner!”

  Joe held his hands out, palms up, feigning innocence.

  Paul laughed. “It’s okay, Joe. I wouldn’t have any mercy on you, either. Now, if you’d care for a little game of pool ...”

  Joe slapped Paul on the back, cheerfully. “No thanks.”

  The two men left the court. Soon they were upstairs at the drinks counter with Sue, where a huge, glass-fronted refrigerator displayed a bewildering array of sports drinks of every imaginable colour. Sue bought three, and handed one each to Joe and Paul. Then she led the way to a plastic table and chairs, part of a makeshift dining area at one end of the complex. Players were scattered around the tables, discussing their games, lamenting losses and celebrating wins. Squash players, Sue thought, were a particularly competitive bunch. The three of them sat down and opened their brightly coloured drinks.

  “Ah,” said Sue. “Glucose, salt, minerals, water, and real artificial lime flavour. Just what I needed. About two pints should do it!”

  Joe took a swig, then suddenly turned pale.

  He put the bottle down and placed both his hands flat on the table. There was something odd about the way he looked, like someone stunned, or someone in pain, waiting for the pain to pass.

  “Joe,” said Paul, “are you all right?”

  In reply, Joe shook his head, very slightly, then raised his right hand quickly to his left arm; he gripped his arm tightly for about twenty seconds.

  “What is it, Joe? What’s wrong?” Paul was alarmed.

  Sue realised what the problem was. “You’re having chest pains again, aren’t you? Okay. Just stay calm. Try to breath normally.”

  All of a sudden, Joe relaxed. He let out a lungful of air. “Wow,” he said softly. “That wasn’t good. It was like a vice on my chest, like a huge weight, crushing my arm. It was ... really terrible. I’ve never had one that bad before.”

  No one said anything for a moment.

  Joe just sat there, panting slightly, glad it was over.

  Paul looked shocked.

  Sue, as usual, was practical. “Right! You’re coming with me to the hospital. Alan’s on duty. I’m going to get him to take a look at you tonight.”

  Joe waved his hand. “No, no. It’s already ten o’clock. I have to go to work tomorrow. If we go to the hospital, we’ll be hours. It can wait.”

  “Joe,” said Paul, “I take risks when I’m skydiving, but I never take stupid risks. You need to see a doctor. Don’t be stupid about it. Let’s go. Sue can drive us.”

  “All right. Okay,” said Joe, grumbling. “I guess you guys are right.”

  “That’s more like it,” said Sue. “You’re only thirty-one, Joe. This sort of thing shouldn’t be happening. Let’s talk to Alan. He’ll get to the bottom of it.”

  The three friends walked slowly to the exit.

  Paul made Joe sit down in one of the lobby chairs, while he and Sue went to collect the car. “Back in five,” said Paul, on his way out.

  Joe relaxed for a moment.

  Then he wondered if his eyesight were failing as well as his heart; there seemed to be green smoke in the lobby. Suddenly, there was someone sitting beside him, in the next seat. It was the leprechaun.

  Oh, no! Joe thought. Not him again!

  “Hello, Joe. It’s me, Shamus Maguinty, your guardian angel. Remember?”

  Joe definitely wasn’t up to this; he was on his way to hospital, and now he was being visited by an angel. It seemed morbid. “Uh, right. Hi. Do we have to do this right
now? It’s not really a good time.”

  Shamus went on as if Joe had not spoken. “Silly question. I used Rainbow Stars on you. Of course you remember me. But maybe I shouldn’t have used the stars. I do love doing that Cossack dance. The look on your face! You should have seen it. Rainbow Stars take all the fun out of it. Mortals get so mellow ...”

  “Excuse me,” said Joe. “Why, if you don’t mind me asking, are you here?”

  “Why am I here? Why am I here?! Sometimes you mortals are so obtuse! When I asked for the animal kingdom, I thought I was going to look after the whales ... but instead they give me two humans. Bah! The whales would have been so much easier. I’m here, you idiot, because you nearly DROPPED DEAD on the squash court just now! If I have to go Upstairs and report to the Big Guy that you snuffed it on a squash court ... ARE YOU LISTENING?!!”

  Joe had no idea what to say to an angry angel. He said nothing.

  Shamus clasped his aging face in his tiny hands and shook his head, slowly. Then he looked up, pulled out his pocket watch, and rubbed it clean. “Now, look,” he said sternly, “I’ve got sixty seconds. Your time is running out. You mortals are supposed to LEARN to do things by yourselves. Is it really that hard? I’m here to give you a hint, since your life is going up in smoke. Here, maybe you need some more Stars.”

  The irascible angel reached into his pocket and produced some more Rainbow Stars. They twinkled like floating candy, bright fluttering confetti. Joe was once more hypnotised by their charm. Shamus snapped his fingers a couple of times. Joe didn’t even blink. “Good! Now, you will listen very carefully, understand and remember. Okay?”

  “Yeppir,” said Joe, gaily. “Anything you say.”

  “Look, dummy. You’re going to DROP DEAD with a heart attack, five years from now – while you’re driving, as a matter of fact. You will have been promoted, working more hours than ever, and you will have quit the band. But you are going to wrap your car around a tree. Now, there’s something I need you to do. Just one little thing, okay?”

  “One thing,” Joe repeated. “What?”

  “DON’T DO IT, YOU IDIOT! Don’t let it happen. Listen to your friends. Go see this doctor tonight, and hear what he says.” Shamus looked agitated. He was fading into smoke. “Look, human ... I mean, Joe, I’ve gotta go. The boss is gonna kill me. It’s all a nightmare. Just try to pay attention to your life, will you do that for me?”