Champagne Kisses

by Amanda Brunker

  I might not have believed such a change possible. But Parker was living proof. And Maddie had become the definition of compassionate.

  She no longer made fun at other people’s expense. She now got sad when looking at TV commercials for third world charities and she listened to all our problems, even if she was double-jobbing and changing Woody’s nappy at the same time. Motherhood had made her warm, gentle and sympathetic. She was a new woman, a better woman, and I hoped to get bumped on to her road of enlightenment a.s.a.p.

  Realizing I was still being self-absorbed, I immersed myself in Lisa’s excitement. She was beaming with delight. Was this young Will guy ‘the one’ for her? Who knew? Not even she knew, but it wasn’t a question to be dissected today. She was capturing her moment, and she wanted us to be witness to her plans.

  ‘He’s meeting the old pair tomorrow,’ cooed Lisa. ‘His parents are Irish. Tell ’em, Will.’

  ‘Yes, my Paddy blood has proved me a keeper so it seems,’ he smiled.

  ‘And they moved to London before Will was born in the seventies and built most of the major roads. So we’ve got builder families in common. How cool is that?’

  No one at the table needed to reply. She was lost in her bliss. So we just nodded and gave her encouraging smiles and allowed her to be happy.

  As I started to daydream, thinking how well Lisa was looking, and wondering could that be a new nose? And is it her new highlights or the broad smile that’s making her look so well? Parker interrupted the happy couple’s début. ‘I’ve an announcement to make,’ he said. ‘So I would like a bit of hush.’

  Announcement? Was he sick? Was he evicting Maddie and myself on to the cold city streets of Dublin to fend for ourselves?

  ‘Jeff and I …’ He began with a nervous twinge in his voice. ‘We got engaged. There, I said it. That wasn’t as difficult to say as it was in my head.’

  There was a silent two-second delay as the penny dropped.

  ‘Wow, congratulations!’ screamed Maddie.

  ‘You old romantics, when did this happen?’ enquired Lisa.

  Leaving me with the important question: ‘Does the role of chief bridesmaid come with a fab dress?’

  Bizarrely, Parker rebuffed all our questions. And once we settled, he began to speak in a very slow and calculated tone. ‘Actually, I’ve a second announcement to make …’

  Before he had the chance to continue I squealed, ‘Please don’t tell me he got you up the duff?’ Which was followed by Maddie choking, ‘I can lend you my maternity knickers!’ But our comments were met with a fake disapproving glare.

  ‘Children, children,’ he reprimanded us: ‘respect for the man centre stage.’

  ‘Sorry, Dad,’ we giggled, gesturing for him to continue his story.

  ‘OK, now that I’ve got your attention, I’d like to tell you all my second piece of information. It involves my wedding … And wait for it – ’ the table had started to erupt once again with giddiness – ‘my wedding to Jeff which took place … last weekend.’

  In unison we screamed, ‘What?’ A smug-looking Parker took a large mouthful of vino, kissed his beau and resumed a casual posture in his chair.

  ‘You got married? When? Where? Why weren’t we invited?’ As I vocalized my questions, my heart sank a little. Why didn’t he want his friends at his wedding? Had it some kinky leather bondage theme that excluded us? Did he not consider us important enough to share his special day?

  ‘Eazzzzzy,’ said Parker, realizing his good news wasn’t sitting too well with the masses, ‘don’t take the hump with me, Eva, it was a spur of the moment thing. Jeff, you explain it better. We just got caught up in the romance of Christmas, didn’t we, hon?’

  ‘Yeah, sort of,’ whispered Jeff, looking a tad guilty. A little confused, Parker dismissed his new husband and continued, ‘We just happened to be walking past the Unitarian Church on Stephen’s Green as a wedding was leaving last Saturday and I happened to say to Jeff, “Do you think you’d ever like to marry me?” And with that he said, “Marry me. Marry me today?” And I said, “I’d love to!”’

  ‘What? And you just walked in off the street and they married you? Get real, we don’t live in Vegas,’ I reasoned.

  ‘Don’t mention the war,’ teased Lisa.

  ‘But come on, you’re not really married? Are you?’

  ‘Actually we are,’ piped up Jeff. ‘I organized the paperwork about a month ago.’

  ‘You did what?’ Parker gave Jeff a stare.

  ‘I had it all planned.’ He smiled, taking Parker’s hand and kissing it. ‘We didn’t just happen to be walking past the church, and I didn’t just happen to bribe the minister with €500. It was all planned in advance, because I love you.’

  Without speaking, tears welled in all our eyes, especially Parker’s. It was the most romantic thing that had ever happened to any of us.

  ‘You did that for me?’ cooed Parker, a little overwhelmed.

  ‘Of course, you’re my honey.’

  ‘But, but why didn’t you tell me?’

  ‘And ruin the surprise? No chance.’

  Not entirely comfortable with being surrounded by so much love, I broke the moment with, ‘I can feel a big one going down …’

  As Maddie, Lisa, Will and Parker raised their glasses in support, Jeff halted the toast. ‘You can count us two lovebirds out, I’m afraid,’ he said.

  ‘How come?’ Parker’s smile visibly dropped.

  ‘Because I’ve a little surprise planned,’ explained Jeff. ‘Now leave it at that.’

  As if part of a pantomime we had started to whoop and cheer at the dramatic scenes. And our joy was infectious; people at neighbouring tables were smiling over with interest.

  ‘OK, OK, sshhhh!’ Parker’s excitement was reaching fever pitch. ‘I need to concentrate here. There’s a surprise? Tell me … you can’t leave me hanging.’

  ‘Noooo, it wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you.’ Jeff had started to squirm, but from his facial expressions it was apparent that he was about to buckle.

  ‘Go on, Jeff, tell us,’ begged Maddie, ‘make us all pea-green with envy.’

  As the pressure from around the table mounted, Jeff finally caved in.

  ‘All right then,’ he muttered while trying to hide his broad smile, ‘I’ve booked us on an early morning flight to New York tomorrow. It’ll be our mini honeymoon. Your bags have already been packed, though obviously a generous amount of space has been left for some shopping on Fifth Avenue.’

  Once again all at the table held their chests and ‘Ahhhh-ed’ loudly.

  ‘And as a treat for my honey, I’ve organized a fabulous personal shopper by the name of Ella Goldin to help you spend some money.’

  As Maddie hugged Jeff and Parker, and Lisa started snuggling with her new man Will, I looked down the café to see a very smiley Michael staring back up at me. Through the throng of fellow lunchers, he subtly winked at me, and raised his coffee cup as if to say cheers.

  I toasted him back with my wine. But I wasn’t sure how I felt when I looked at him.

  He didn’t make me feel nervous, and I couldn’t work out if that was a good or a bad thing. I suppose he was just easy to be around. I was comfortable in his company. Maybe he was my comfy slippers guy?

  Waiters arrived at our table of love to drop off our starters. My phone beeped.

  It was Michael Café. ‘Don’t look so sad. Can I cheer you up?’

  Can he indeed? He’d already charmed a smile out of me with his text, so I suppose he had potential.

  Lisa was right. I did want someone to love me. I was ready to let love in. I was sick of all the messing that had gone on in the last year.

  I had to stop looking back at what a disaster I’d made of things. I had the ability to turn my life around, I just needed to focus. And I didn’t need a man to help me do that, but it would be nice to have someone to hold my hand. OK, I’ve got to stop obsessing and start acting on my impulses. Doing just that, I t
exted Michael back asking, ‘Any suggestions how you could make me Happy Eva After?’

  ‘Plenty,’ came back the immediate response. ‘Meet U outside Quinn’s Pub 4 quick chat in 10 mins … Mx’.

  A secret meeting. I liked his cloak and dagger style. Slowly he was beginning to warm my stone heart that had been frozen from repeated disappointment.

  After devouring my minestrone soup, I stood up and was excusing myself to the loo when my phone beeped through another text. Before I could open it, Lisa had grabbed it, complaining, ‘Who could you possibly want to be talking to aside from us? Let’s have a look here … Michael?’

  ‘Yes, I’m meeting him outside for a chat. Now give me back my phone.’

  ‘What the hell are you meeting him anywhere for?’

  ‘ ’Cause he asked, and I thought, what the hell?’

  ‘Eva, don’t do it,’ pleaded Lisa with strange sincerity.

  ‘Relax, sista, I’m not running off anywhere … Well, not that I know of yet.’ And as Lisa sat wide-mouthed, I slipped on my jacket and snatched my phone back out of her hand.

  ‘Parker, speak to Eva,’ pleaded Lisa again, now looking disturbingly worried.

  ‘What’s up now?’ beamed the newly-wed.

  ‘She’s meeting Michael. Stop her.’

  Parker understandably had no interest in anyone else’s affairs, but did his best supportive friend act nonetheless. ‘I don’t know why she’s getting upset,’ he sighed, ‘but be a pet and do what she says.’

  But I wasn’t going to be told. Why should I be the last old maid left on the shelf? So without further explanation I left the table and pushed my way out into the cold.

  The streets were lined with festive Christmas lights, and the women screaming from the flower stalls at the end of the road helped add to the Christmassy atmosphere.

  What a perfect time to start a new relationship, I thought.

  As I fixed my scarf to block the wind-chill with one hand, I opened up my text messages to see what Lisa had been so upset about.

  And there it was; the ultimate reason why I shouldn’t step outside the door.

  There staring up at me were the words ‘Michael’s Cell’.

  Ohmigod!

  Holding my breath as I opened it, seconds seemed like minutes as I waited for my screen to flash up, ‘Guess who’s back begging forgiveness?’

  My heart skipped a beat. The mere thought of him near me made me feel nauseous. He had some cheek. He had treated me so badly, how dare he even think about making contact?

  First he makes me take cocaine, and then he abandons me on the streets of Dublin. He was a total bastard. So why was my heart beating so fast? Was it hatred or stupid dangerous lust?

  I could have been dead on the street and he wouldn’t have cared. Did he think I was some cheap ho? How could he have the balls to text me for a bootie call after what happened last time?

  I was almost snarling with anger when I glanced up from my phone to see the other Michael waving to me from the corner of the pub. He looked so happy and kind; nothing at all like the fucker who was trying to steal his thunder.

  Half-heartedly I waved back signalling, ‘One minute’, to gather my thoughts.

  Should I ignore Michael’s message? No, I needed to put that selfish fucker straight.

  I could see my date was starting to get anxious, so I needed to make this text quick and precise. I was just starting to plan a message in my head, when another text beeped through. Once again it read ‘Michael’s Cell’.

  FUCK!

  I thought about deleting it, but I couldn’t help myself. A part of me still craved this guy’s madness; his touch; his velvet voice … even the sight of his name in my phone was thrilling.

  I didn’t want to allow him into my head space, but I couldn’t resist.

  Through one squinted eye I pressed open to read the words, ‘Don’t pass out, but TURN AROUND beautiful …’

  It was as if I had been stabbed in the chest. Michael’s text had totally winded me. I didn’t know what to do … so I panicked.

  Not thinking straight, I started to run directly at Michael Café who was standing outside Keogh’s. He had a cigarette in his hand and a worried look on his face.

  I wouldn’t look behind me, I couldn’t look behind me for fear that I’d be sucked back in by Mickey Blue Eyes’s bad boy sex appeal.

  So I ran, and kept running past Michael, Café Michael and the cloud of his smoke, and just as I turned the corner I heard this loud screeching of brakes. I turned and as I did I saw a motorcyclist go into a skid and slam into the back of a delivery truck. With a bone-crushing crash the bike-rider, head to toe in black leather with a matching black helmet, was thrown in the air. As I followed his ascent I noticed his bike skidding towards me.

  With no time to react, I stood and watched as this large motorbike came hurtling towards me and then BANG! It hit me and as I felt myself being flattened to the pavement, there was first intense pain in my legs and then crack, my head hit the ground.

  Shut down.

  * * *

  I woke up to darkness; total darkness and pain. I didn’t know the cause of either, I just understood that I had been gripped by both.

  As I lay flat on my back I could feel every muscle in my body ache. My legs were so painful that I almost couldn’t feel them, they were that numb. As for my head, it was stinging with pain, with a piercing stabbing on the right side.

  I tried to lift my hand to my head but I couldn’t move it. I then tried to open my eyes to see where I was, but I couldn’t open them.

  What was going on? I tried again and again, but I only succeeded in working myself up into a panic. I wanted to scream for help but I couldn’t open my mouth either.

  I don’t know where I am, I’m unable to move, or speak or see; could I be dead?

  Is this what death is like?

  Fuck. Is this my hell?

  With no concept of time I didn’t know how long I’d been alone, but it seemed like a lifetime.

  With nothing active except my brain, and no one to talk to, I had driven myself to the brink of insanity trying to analyse my situation.

  I remembered everything. I remembered running away from my problems, Michael Café’s concerned face, getting knocked down by the motorbike. But I didn’t recall anything after that.

  I didn’t know what injuries I’d received, or even if the motorcyclist survived.

  I was so scared, so alone – but wait … I can hear someone’s voice. It’s very faint but I can work out that it’s a woman. Hold on, there’s actually two voices. Two women are speaking.

  I’m obviously not dead. I can’t be if I am hearing people talk.

  I just need to concentrate really hard to work out what they’re saying.

  I was tuning in and out, only catching snippets of their conversation when I heard my name. They definitely said my name. And then it was as if someone turned up the volume. I was listening to their entire conversation of boyfriend chat. What times they were taking their breaks, and how my poor legs had taken a hammering.

  ‘I hope for her sake she doesn’t get drop-foot. There’ll be bad scarring there,’ said one.

  ‘Yeah, but her Glasgow coma scale is improving. She’s tolerating her NG feed now.’ Drop-foot? Scars? How bad am I? I wasn’t enjoying this Snow White status. Somebody come wake me up, please …

  I still wasn’t able to open my eyes, or move, or speak, but I woke to the sound of a tearful Parker calling me a silly cow.

  ‘I could have been shopping in Barneys, or having cocktails at the Rose Bar, or dinner at the Waverly. How dare you ruin my honeymoon? When you wake up out of this coma, I’ll bloody well kill ya.’

  I wished I could have told him how sorry I was for destroying his surprise trip.

  There were a lot of things I wanted to tell him. Thank him for.

  I didn’t thank him enough for all the support, financial and friendship-wise, he gave me. He was my rock when the good tim
es got rough, even if he was often a pain in the arse.

  Without him, I would have been living in a gutter somewhere. When I woke up I’d make sure to tell him that. Well, if he hadn’t managed to strangle me first.

  Over what seemed like weeks everyone I ever knew had passed by my bedside, with all of them crying.

  Keeping a protective vigil, my parents must have etched their backsides into the chairs they banged about beside me.

  As my mum fussed about, washing my face and brushing ‘the little bit of hair left sticking out from under the bandages’, my father did his usual moaning, and God knows what untold damage to my right hand as he continued to squeeze the life out of it.

  It was such a comfort knowing they were with me. It was the closest I had felt to them in years.

  Why did it have to take such an accident for my mum and dad to show their love for me?

  My emotions would bounce from frustration with them to an overpowering sense of contentment.

  Of course on my bad days I’d blame my mum’s eccentricities for all my difficulties in life, but on my good days it was a totally different story. I loved her and my dad no matter what our differences, and deep down I rationalized that without their stance on my lifestyle I might have been lost in transit for a very long time indeed.

  Maddie being Maddie checked in with me every day, had her little cry, sprayed me with perfume and filled me in on all of Woody’s latest antics. Today he woke himself with a massive fart, apparently, and managed to scrape stripes across his nose with his razor sharp fingernails, leaving him looking like a mini Adam Ant.

  Lisa keeps bringing in tropical bouquets of flowers, which my sister constantly complains ‘makes the place look like the bloody Botanic Gardens’.

  But it’s the late-night calls from Michael, Café Michael, that give me the most pleasure.

  He told me he bribed the night doorman, and that it didn’t take much, only a twenty, but then teased that he woulda stretched to € 23, maybe € 24, but nothing higher. Anything over €24 was far too rich for his blood.