Just Like You Said It Would Be

by C. K. Kelly Martin

  “I’m going to meet Marieve,” she interrupted, twirling a strand of hair restlessly around one finger. “I’ll see you later, yeah?”

  “Okay,” he said. Their lips smacked swiftly together in virtually the same kind of kiss I could’ve given my mom. “See you later.”

  I fiddled with my lid as I said goodbye to Ursula too. “Thanks for the suggestion about the IFI,” I told Darragh as she turned away. “You made my summer with that.”

  “Brilliant.” Darragh smiled as he crossed his arms in front of his Blondie T-shirt. “When do you start class?”

  “Monday.” I exploded into a grin again at the thought of it. That and my close-up view of The Brash Heathens’ exceptionally blue-eyed guitarist in a T-shirt. Now that Ursula was gone I felt hyper-aware of Darragh’s body, the sound of his voice and the way he was blinking slowly into the sun, like he had all the time in the world to stand there talking to me.

  “Good on ya.” He nodded and squinted into the sunlight. “And what about the troubles back home? Are they under control?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “That doesn’t sound the best,” Darragh said, his head dipping.

  The pressure bearing in on Joss’s life welled up inside me like a bruise as I stared down at Debbie Harry’s face, and then the shaded wavy lines that entwined to form the neck of Darragh’s guitar tattoo. “My best friend’s brother is about to go to prison for running someone over while he was drunk,” I admitted. “Her family’s been in a tailspin over it. And that’s making her do things she wouldn’t normally do. Things that are making me worry.” Not the kind of topic you discussed with someone you barely knew, but Darragh was the one who’d brought it up. He’d asked.

  Darragh’s face went blank, all except his eyes which were broadcasting something less than dread but more than indifference. “And she’s your age, is she?” He shaded his brow with his hand and focused a level gaze at me as my head dipped in agreement. “What’s she been doing? Drugs?”

  “No. Nothing like that. This has just really thrown her and her family, and the trial’s coming up in a few weeks and I’m not there.”

  “You’ll be there afterwards,” Darragh offered. “You’ll be there for her when you’re back.”

  “I will,” I agreed. “But there’s more.” A jumble of words vaguely resembling a sentence careened out of my mouth like a first-time skier plummeting down a slick mountainside—an explanation of Melanie Cheng’s injuries, Ajay’s depression and that night in December when I’d bumped into him at the fridge but hadn’t stop him from getting behind the wheel.

  “Jesus.” Darragh’s eyebrows popped up. “That’s rough about your friend’s brother, and the woman he knocked down, but you can’t blame yourself. That was months before the accident.”

  “I know. But maybe if I’d said something to his parents that night, or the next day…”

  “You said you asked him if he was all right to drive.”

  “I did. But I could’ve done more.” The truth sliced at my voice, a tiny seam ripping open one thread at a time. “I could’ve told my friend about that night months ago. I never said anything. She still doesn’t know.”

  Darragh lips parted slowly, as though he was turning the things I’d said over in his mind. “He’s the one who was out of order. But if it’s eating at you, you should tell your friend.”

  And what if Jocelyn blamed me too? Ajay would always hold the lion’s share of responsibility, but she might believe I had a small portion. She might blame me in the same way she blamed her parents who hadn’t run over Melanie Cheng, injuring her upper spine and putting her in a wheelchair, but who I knew Joss still held partially accountable without her having to say it out loud.

  “Think about it,” Darragh insisted.

  I tossed my head back and exhaled through my teeth. “I will, I’ll think about it. Thanks.”

  “And in the meantime don’t be so harsh on yourself, all right?”

  I nodded unconvincingly, stuck midway between feeling relieved for having told someone and wishing I’d evaded Darragh’s question in the first place. “Can we rewind and do that over?” I asked. “Maybe this time I’ll just make a bad joke instead of vomiting up everything that’s been bothering me in thirty seconds flat.”

  “We could give it a go.” Darragh smiled. “I think time travel probably only works in films, though.”

  “See, this is how a person thinks when they’ve seen too many movies, that anything is possible. Reality sucks in comparison.”

  “I don’t think someone who wants to be a screenwriter could ever possibly see too many movies. But reality’s overrated, you’re dead right.” Darragh knocked his elbow against mine. “If we’re starting over, do you need a lift? I’m picking up something for my brothers and then I’m heading off home.”

  “Is it out of your way?” I’d been planning on hanging out in town awhile longer, but I wasn’t going to turn down the chance to spend some more time with Darragh. It’d been a long, long time since I’d had a safe crush—someone I could enjoy being around with no worries about him complicating things by wanting more—and my foreign address and Darragh’s girlfriend guaranteed it would remain just that.

  “It’s no hassle,” Darragh said. “I’ve just got to drop by the game shop on Dawson Street and pick up something for my brothers first.”

  “All right then, thanks. So what’re you getting your brothers?”

  “Just a couple of video games. It’s their thirteenth birthday tomorrow.”

  “Twins,” I noted. “Identical or fraternal?”

  “Identical,” he said. “It takes most people awhile to be able to tell them apart.”

  “Are their personalities identical too? What about that psychic link thing—you know, one of them breaks their arm on the playground and the other one feels the pain—is that for real?”

  Darragh laughed. “It’s not quite that dramatic. They’re a lot alike though. Cillian is a bit quieter most of the time. Ciaran tends to do the talking for both of them. You’re an only child, right?” A sly grin settled on Darragh’s features. “Does that mean you never learned to share?” he teased, and I would’ve sworn by the tickle in his voice that he’d said something dirty.

  He was wrong about me being an only child, but after all the heavy things we’d gotten into already I didn’t correct him. If Darragh had been a guy from school I would’ve rolled my eyes and said something mouthy in response to his remark about sharing, but he’d caught me off guard. He didn’t think of me like that, did he? Or maybe his real personality was starting to show and he was one of those guys who thought of practically every girl like that but got away with it because of how he looked.

  “Depends what we’re talking about,” I replied neutrally. Maybe accepting the ride had been a bad idea.

  Darragh’s smile was even wider by then, making me wonder what wild remark was about to spring from his mouth and whether I could keep up or if I should even bother to try. If we got too cozy now we’d blow the safe-crush thing just as soon as it’d gotten started.

  “I’m only messing,” he said, knocking his arm against mine again. It was such a purely friendly gesture that I instantly relaxed. He wasn’t interested in me. There was zero possibility of ruining anything. “What about the battle of the bands gig on Saturday? Will you be able to make it?”

  “I’m not sure yet.” My parents were supposed to call later; I needed to put together a plan of action for the contest.

  We’d reached the game store and I trailed Darragh through the crowds, examining his selection of homicidal war games. “You know you’re making your brothers look like psychopaths,” I kidded.

  “Spot on,” Darragh said. “But this is the shite they want. You know kids today, obsessed with violence.”

  “And sex,” I added, not missing a beat.

  “Maybe in Canada.” He tilted his head, gazing at me like he was innocence personified. “But this is Ireland, Amira.” He broke int
o a smile and nudged my arm. “Come on, let’s get in the queue.”

  We strode over to the cash register and joined the endless line. “Jaysus,” he groaned. “We’ll never get out of here at this rate.”

  I glanced up and down the line—at the trio of girls in front of us, the lanky guy with multiple piercings in front of them and so on and so on—and for no good reason I started to feel disproportionally happy about standing next to Darragh in an overcrowded video game store I wouldn’t have bothered going into without him.

  “You know, you’re the only person I’ve told about that night in the kitchen,” I began, surprising myself by bringing it up again.

  Darragh glanced down at the Xbox games in his right hand, and then he said something that made my head pop. “Everyone here is someone you’ve just met at this point, aren’t they? You have to have someone to say these things to.” He shrugged lightly, shooting his ultra-blue gaze over to me. “And you’ve already interviewed me. It’s only right that I should know something about you.”

  I slid my hands into my back pockets, the corners of my lips peeking up. “So how many songs are you guys doing on Saturday?”

  “Three or four, but I know a couple of the other bands on and they’re pretty good.” He glanced at his watch. “This is taking ages. You’d probably have been home faster on the bus.”

  But it wouldn’t have been as interesting. Since our conversation on Saturday night I’d been fairly sure Darragh and I could be casual friends. With Zoey in common we were bound to run into each other all summer. The thing was, casual didn’t seem good enough anymore. I wanted to know him better. Really know him. That was possible, wasn’t it? For us to be genuine friends? I didn’t have any close guy friends, but I believed in the concept.

  Darragh paid for the games and we walked back towards Stephen’s Green to get his car, which turned out to be a red Yamaha scooter.

  “I was expecting four wheels,” I confessed as we arrived at a mess of bicycles and scooters parked at the top of Grafton Street.

  “Four wheels are much dearer than two,” Darragh proclaimed as he unlocked the under-seat storage and pulled out a helmet. I must’ve given a vacant look because he clarified, “More expensive. Cars and petrol are dead expensive here.”

  “This is cooler,” I told him, and meant it. “I’ve never been on one.”

  “Well, there’s a first time for everything, isn’t there?” He fit the extra helmet over my head and tightened the strap, automatically, like we’d been through this a dozen times before. “Hold on tight,” he instructed. “It takes some getting used to.”

  I watched him put on his own helmet, climbed on behind him and locked my arms around his waist, immediately self-conscious. Was I holding too tightly? Not tightly enough? Don’t think about it, I commanded. Just do it. I stared at his shoulders and tried to imagine they were some random, less appealing guy’s, but I couldn’t make them feel like anyone’s but his.

  Every minute felt new. As we drove through the city streets, my body crunched against Darragh’s back and a warm breeze rushing against us, it seemed like a dream of summer come to life. People in strappy sandals and thin sleeveless shirts lounged outside pretty cafés and fashionable pubs. A double decker bus barrelled by us on a street lined with stately Georgian buildings and distinctly European looking shop-fronts. That feeling I’d had on Saturday night under the stars washed over me in waves, the certainty deep in my bones that I was exactly where I was supposed to be in the universe.

  Chapter 6

  And now back to our regularly scheduled setlist.

  When I climbed off Darragh’s scooter and landed on my aunt and uncle’s driveway every inch of me was wide awake in a way I hadn’t known was possible. Like I’d swallowed a sky full of shooting stars. They were shimmering under my skin, swelling, ready to explode into stardust. My lips were tingling and my face felt flushed.

  I thought of the times I’d lain down with Matias on the beige sectional couch in his basement, our bodies pressed together closer than Darragh’s and mine had been, our mouths trading spit and one of Matias’s hands pushing up under my bra. All of that had been okay. Sometimes even good. But it paled in comparison to what I’d felt on the back of Darragh’s Yamaha, what I was still feeling as I handed back his helmet and thanked him.

  I loped into the house and stood frozen in the hallway, emotionally dazed and physically burning up. TV voices were arguing from down the hall and I steadied my breath, preparing to face Zoey. It was too early to be anyone else, not quite five o’clock yet, and she worked lots of different shifts at the restaurant.

  I trooped into the room that Aunt Kate, Uncle Frank, and Zoey called the sitting room, but people back home would’ve known as the living room. Zoey’s running shoed feet were draped over the arm of the couch and she was laughing lightly to herself. My eyes zoomed over to the television where a bunch of guys dressed up in gorilla suits, outfitted in studded belts, gloves and kneepads, were rocking out with electric guitars.

  “Classic Mighty Boosh,” Zoey said, amusement bubbling in her throat. She pointed to the only two guys not dressed as gorillas. “The two of them are complete nutters.” My cousin folded her feet in closer to her so that there was space for me on the couch if I wanted it. “Were you in town?”

  That was another thing they always said in Dublin. In town rather than downtown.

  “Yeah.” I sat next to her. “I got into screenwriting class. The woman from the IFI called me about it this morning.”

  “Fair play to you!” Zoey lit up like a Christmas tree. “That’s great. Congratulations!”

  I nodded, my skin beginning to cool. “I can’t wait.” My mind was swirling with half-formed thoughts of Darragh, not ready to let the wide-awake feeling dissolve entirely. “I ran into Darragh in town,” I volunteered. Funny, I’d been in Ireland less than two weeks and was already starting to pick up their way of speaking. “He drove me home.”

  “You should’ve asked him in,” Zoey said casually, twisting to sit up straight.

  It hadn’t even occurred to me; I’d been too distracted. “He had to get going,” I lied. “He seems really dedicated to the band. I mean, obviously you all are.”

  “Absolutely.” Zoey laced her fingers in her lap. “I’ve been doing competitions since I was nine, but with being in the band I feel like I’m really getting somewhere for the first time. Like I’m finally justifying my existence on the planet.”

  “And your parents are cool with the band thing? They don’t get on your case about going to university?”

  “They know me well enough by now to see that was never much of a possibility. I’m sure they don’t want me waiting tables forever, but it’s early days yet.” Zoey cocked her head and added, “Why? Would your parents be uptight about it?”

  “For sure. A university education is more or less mandatory. I can’t imagine what would happen if I wanted to work at a restaurant and write screenplays on the side.”

  Zoey’s stare was pensive. “And is that what you want to do?”

  “I could major in screenwriting in university. I think that’s what I want to do.”

  “Sounds like a plan that will suit all of you,” she said. “Anyway, if you think my parents are laid back, you should see Roisin’s. Her mother let her last boyfriend stay at the house with them when he got sacked. Darragh’s dad is the same way. His mum’s living in England with some other bloke, a session musician, and his heathen little brothers get away with murder.”

  “Heathen?” My lips leapt into a smile as I remembered criticizing Darragh’s video game choices.

  “Brats,” she said. “The inspiration for the band name. It’s probably not their fault. From what I hear their mother isn’t very child friendly, but they’re brats all the same.”

  I’d never wanted my parents to get separated, but the thought of one of them moving in with someone else was so much worse than them just being apart. I guess I’d been relatively lucky; my mom
and dad seemed to be having the time of their lives together on the cruise.

  “It’s well known over here that she used to be in a British band called The Scarlet Nevers,” Zoey continued. “They never broke in the States so you mightn’t have heard of them, but they were in the charts here and in the U.K.”

  “You mean his mom was famous?”

  “A long time ago. For a bit.”

  I made Zoey repeat the band name and learned Darragh’s mom was someone named Michelle Donlon who had been popularly known as ‘Shel D’. Donlon was her maiden name but Darragh’s surname was Leavy. Shel had been physically and emotionally burnt out—sick to death of the music business—when she’d met Darragh’s dad through a friend. They fell hard and fast for each other. Four months after the band broke up, when she was supposed to be working on her solo career, Shel learned she was pregnant with Darragh. She married Darragh’s dad and left the business to be with her new family.

  “This is all common knowledge but don’t tell Darragh I told you,” Zoey said. “He doesn’t like to make a big deal out of his mum being Shel D.” I heard the reverence on Zoey’s tongue when she uttered the name, although this had all happened years and years ago.

  I managed to slip a question about Darragh’s age into the conversation (eighteen until the end of October, according to my cousin) before promising, “I won’t say anything.” I wouldn’t be able to resist Googling the band, but Darragh would never hear the names The Scarlet Nevers or Shel D from my lips. “I never thanked you for waking me up for the rest of the party,” I added, like I’d already forgotten about Darragh’s mom. “You blew me away. You guys are going to be awesome at the battle of the bands contest.”

  “This Saturday.” Zoey switched on the energy. “It’ll be good craic. Everyone’s going—the crowd from the party. You’ll be there, won’t you?” She bowed her head conspiratorially close to mine. “We’ll arrange one of the girls to collect you. We’ll say you’re going to the cinema, but she’ll whisk you over to the club and then bring you home again straight after the contest. Easy peasy.”