Just Like You Said It Would Be

by C. K. Kelly Martin

  “The doctors are worried about her heart. But she hates being in hospital. Ursula says she won’t want to stay a second longer than she has to.”

  I glanced at Darragh’s hand down by his side and imagined slipping it into mine. How could someone feel so distant and near at the same instant?

  “I didn’t know if you’d come today,” Darragh continued, flexing the fingers on his right hand. “And then I thought you might blank me. I wouldn’t blame you really. This is fucked up.”

  My face felt about three feet long as Darragh stared at me. “Hey,” he said pointedly, his head bending towards mine. “You can still say things to me, you know? And I still want to see that screenplay of yours.” A lopsided grin struggled with the rest of his face. “Everything will be sorted in a week or so—maybe sooner. I just need a little more time.”

  I remembered what Zoey had said about Ursula’s sister being on death’s door. Darragh had confirmed it when he said Ursula was afraid she could lose her. There was no guarantee this would be behind us as quickly as he was suggesting, but I couldn’t bring myself to say it.

  Darragh’s fingers reached for my hair, his hand curving softly around the back of my head. The moment was so brief that I barely had time to register that it was happening before he pulled away as if someone had shouted at him to stop.

  My scalp sparked where he’d touched it and I knew he was being completely genuine. He was trying to be good and do the right thing by everyone, but that’s not what I wanted from him; I wanted more.

  “You’re right,” I told him. “This isn’t the right time.” Maybe he wasn’t Ursula’s, but he wasn’t free either. He definitely wasn’t mine.

  Darragh shifted his weight, disappointment lining his face. I found myself feeling sorry for him, even though I was the one who’d been let down. What did he expect me to do after what he’d said about being on hold?

  Neither of us had much to say to each other after that. I caught up with Gloria and the whole group of us bought dripping ice cream cones and hurried towards the end of the pier. Climbing down onto the rocks, we dipped our arms and legs into the sea until it didn’t feel cool any longer. That was what summer vacation was meant for—all of us laughing and making funny observations about the parade of people striding by as every living thing toasted gently in the sun. We stayed there for a long time, our skin tanning—or burning, as the case may be—and Darragh glancing sporadically over at me. Afterwards we roamed around the town, heading down various streets and poking our heads in and out of shops. Then they walked me to the DART station, waving goodbye before they headed off in search of a cheap pub to have dinner at.

  It was as close to perfect as a glorious Irish summer’s day could be, except that Darragh and I were never going to happen.

  Chapter 11

  Look Who’s Getting Bold.

  I stayed upstairs in my room during band practice on Sunday and Monday night while The Brash Heathens were putting in extra hours before their Vicar Street gig. In those last few days before the trial Jocelyn and I emailed each other multiple times a day, her continually skirting the subject of Noah and me steadfastly ignoring the subject of December 27th . I’d waited too long to say anything and locked myself in; I couldn’t see how I could possibly tell her about that night now. Still, my old conversation with Ajay niggled at me as I read Jocelyn’s words.

  Ajay promised me he was going to be okay in there. I made him promise so maybe it doesn’t count, but he sounded like he meant it. He told me in a way he wants to go to prison, to feel like he’s making up for what he’s done. Then all I could think is that I don’t care what he’s done, I don’t want him to go to jail. It won’t make Melanie Cheng whole again. How can it help anything?

  He said, “You always thought I was partying too much, being an asshole, and you were right. I need to figure out how to be someone better.”

  I told him he didn’t need to go anywhere to do that, that he could change from anywhere. But it’s like you said, there’s no choice anyway. Sometimes we have to accept things. I guess that’s what Ajay’s trying to do.

  I keep catching my mom looking at him with sad eyes when she thinks no one notices. My dad tries to be strong always—you know how he is—but my brother and I went to the gurdwara with him to pray. I know you don’t believe in things like that, but it helps.

  Then Ajay’s court date arrived too soon—because it never could have felt otherwise—and I woke up at dawn, wishing for the thousandth time that I was on the other side of the ocean. Jack’s room was cast in weak blue light as I wrote Jocelyn, telling her that I was glad she’d been able to find some peace somewhere, that I’d be thinking of her and her family all day and to Skype me late that night, like she’d promised. Joss’s parents and Ajay didn’t want her at the trial so she and her sister would be waiting at home with her grandparents. Even if I’d been in Toronto, we would have been separate, but the nearness would have counted for something.

  Instead I felt as though I existed in an entirely different world. Ajay’s court appearance was twinned with my script treatment due date and I trudged through screenwriting class in a fog, every moment feeling not quite real. I saw Gianni floor everyone with his summary of Questo Piccolo Grande Amore. It didn’t matter that his English language skills weren’t perfect; my classmates could hear the passion behind his every word. I could hear it too; I just couldn’t feel it the way I should’ve. All my emotions were with Joss.

  The numbness made reading my completed treatment, which I’d tentatively titled Happiness is Easy, simple. No nerves like I’d had the week before, which must have been a huge improvement because as we strolled out of class together Clare proclaimed, “You’re a star.”

  It was something you heard in Ireland often and basically meant you’d either done a good job or was the equivalent of telling someone, “You’re the best,” when they’d done you even a minor favour. I’d been in Dublin for a total of four and a half weeks at that point and didn’t need people to translate things for me any longer. I didn’t exactly feel like a tourist anymore either. I’d gotten used to the rhythm people talked in, an expressiveness that made North Americans sound dull and slow. I knew that “sloshed” meant you were drunk and a “dote” was a real sweetheart of a person. If you were really happy you were chuffed and if the lights went out you needed a torch, not a flashlight.

  Some of those words my parents still used in each other’s company (my father having spent his first twenty-four years in Ireland and the following eleven in England, and my mom having grown up in a London suburb) but other words and phrases—plaster (Band-Aid), car park (parking lot), and fringe (hair bangs) they must have abandoned years earlier in order to be understood in North America. I wondered if I’d forget about those words once I flew home too, them and everything that I’d leave behind.

  Clare, Gianni, and I had lunch together in a cheap sandwich bar around the corner from the IFI. The work day had barely started in Toronto; it was going to be a long afternoon and I forced myself to stay out with them; sitting at home alone waiting for news I wouldn’t get for hours and hours would’ve slowed the day further still.

  We hadn’t sat down as a trio since the first day of class and I was surprised to catch Clare and Gianni making eyes at each other across the table. “Are you kidding me?” I asked Clare when Gianni went off to the bathroom. “Is something going on between you two?”

  “Not how you mean,” Clare declared as she squeezed a slice of lemon into her water. “He’s just a massive flirt. Anyway, he’d be more your type than mine. Why don’t you give it a go? He’s not bad looking and he has great taste in films. I reckon he could make you forget that guitarist no problem.”

  “You’re the one flirting with him,” I pointed out. “Why don’t you give him a try if that’s the way you feel?” It was true; Gianni had a lot of good points. He was kind of like a daily vitamin; I usually walked away from him feeling better, more energized, than I had before. I was d
efinitely fond of him, just not in the way Clare was suggesting. “Anyway, who said Gianni was my type?”

  “You both like those arty intellectual films with open endings and lots of silent pauses.” The way Irish people pronounced films it usually came out sounding more like filums and Clare was no exception.

  “It takes more than that to make someone your type. Besides, I’m not over my drama craving yet.” I said it like I was kidding, but Clare looked me straight in the eye like that was the truth of the matter.

  About twenty minutes later the three of us were splitting the lunch cheque and going our separate ways, me towards Westmoreland Street to catch a bus home. Dublin was a compact city, every point within walking distance, so it wasn’t odd to run into familiar faces in the street, but when I saw Darragh rushing down Crown Alley in a scruffy denim jacket and dark wash jeans it didn’t feel like a coincidence. I called his name before I could regret it and he stopped directly in front of me, looking harried.

  “Hey, Amira,” he said stiffly. “You just finished class?” He glanced at his watch and then distractedly over his shoulder. “Are you on your way home then?”

  If I’d had any illusions that he’d shown up in Temple Bar because of me they disappeared in a flash. He was as disinterested as a person could be without seeming rude and his left eye was back to normal, like that Saturday night in Temple Bar had never happened between us.

  I didn’t answer at first and then Darragh really looked at me. Nobody should be able to hook you with a stare alone. It was almost criminal and I felt myself getting defensive. “Yeah, I’m still grounded,” I replied. “And I have a lot of work to do.”

  Darragh’s eyes were fixed on mine and his hands disappeared into his pockets. “You missed a good night on Saturday.”

  “I heard.” Zoey hadn’t gotten home until close to one o’clock. She’d said they’d stumbled across a free outdoor showing of Inception in a Dun Laoghaire park after dinner. “So what are you doing in Temple Bar on your day off?” I asked, instantly wanting to take back the question; I had no business checking up on him.

  Darragh bit into his cheek and his reluctance to answer was an answer in itself. Something to do with Ursula.

  “Forget it,” I added. “You don’t have to answer that. I’ll just…I’ll see you around.” I should never have gotten myself into this. It’s not like he’d led me on. I was fully aware of the Ursula situation and now I spun to go before I’d turn sour on him.

  “Wait, Amira.” He stepped in front of me, blocking my way. “They’ve put Ursula’s sister into an in-patient program at the hospital, but she’s still in a bad way.” His eyebrows drew together as the distance between us seemed to grow. “I’m really sorry about all this. It’s mad; Ursula and I have spent more time talking during the last week than we ever did before.” Darragh was squinting, despite the overcast sky. “And you looked fantastic on Saturday, you know? Seeing you does my head in. I can’t…” He shook his head, his left hand soaring into the air. “I can’t balance you and this whole emotional thing Ursula’s going through. I’m still buzzed from the gig last night as well. My head isn’t even sitting on my shoulders at the moment.”

  “What about what you said about still being able to tell you things?” I fought a pout, silently trying to talk myself out of the idea that he was the best friend I had within three thousand miles.

  His hand suddenly skimmed my arm. “Did something happen? Do you need to talk?”

  “The trial’s today, but we’re five hours ahead of Toronto; there won’t be any news until later.” I wrapped my arms around my stomach and stood back. “Forget it. I’m making a fool of myself and I hate the way that keeps happening with you.”

  “No, no. That’s not what’s happening.” Darragh was throwing one of his hands around again. “I’m acting like a gobshite. I told you that being around you while we’re on hold like this does my head in. But talk to me. Tell me everything—when will you hear from your friend?”

  “We’ll be Skyping in the middle of the night probably. I never told her about December. I guess I’m a coward.” Gritty anxiety pebbled my throat.

  “You’re not,” Darragh insisted, planting both hands on my shoulders. “It’s a touchy situation. You’ve been there for her as best as you could. What happened that night doesn’t make any difference.”

  I nodded, mutely digesting his words and the empathy that seemed to leak from his fingers deep into my bones.

  “So Vicar Street went well?” I asked, latching on to the least complicated thing he’d mentioned. As confused as I was about the mishmash of things we’d just said to each other, I was happy for Darragh about the gig. Zoey had still been asleep when I’d left for class in the morning, his report of the night would be the first I’d heard.

  “We went down a storm,” Darragh replied earnestly. “Ah, it was brilliant. You should’ve been there, Amira. Zoey was completely on form. If I didn’t know her she’d have given me chills. Lost Souls Dinner Hour are going into the studio soon and then they’re touring the U.K so there’s a good chance we’ll be opening for them again, especially after how last night went down. Some mad French girl wanted me to give her my shoelaces and a few of the blokes from Mental Wealth came down to see us as well. Rory and I went back to one of their flats and jammed a bit after. They had this rented electric violin and there was an incredible sound off it.” The way he said the word incredible made it sound twelve feet high and he looked larger than life in front of me, not just because he was this achingly good-looking Irish guitarist but because he was so deep into the experience of it all.

  “What’re you doing now?” he asked keenly, as though the first part of our conversation had never happened and that whatever we were to each other didn’t need to be contained by the crooked lines we kept drawing for ourselves. “It sounds like you should keep busy today. Do you want to play some pool?” He smiled at my bewildered expression. “I’m sorry. I sound like a complete lunatic, don’t I? I never got to bed last night and I just had this horrible conversation with Ursula.” He blanched at the memory and I instinctively reached out and sort of shook his hand.

  “Just now?”

  “Mmm,” he confirmed, gripping my hand back. “She’s gone for an interview in a place in Merrion Square now, but she was in really bad form—she should’ve just cancelled. Anyway, I thought I’d spend a couple of hours in town and get my head together.” He clamped his lips together and dipped his head. “We’ll have a friendly game of pool then, yeah?” He glanced imploringly up at me, his head still tilted towards the ground. “It’s seven that you have to be home by, is it?”

  “Technically,” I told him. The warmth of his palm against mine made me smile. “But they’ll expect me for dinner and anyway, I don’t know how to play pool.”

  “That’s okay.” He grinned back at me. “Trust me, I’m a good teacher.”

  So Darragh patiently instructed me in the art of pool, interjecting questions about screenwriting class and Happiness is Easy as I actually potted some balls (including the cueball and one of his). The uncertainty between us would’ve given me a dull ache behind the eyes only I was entirely focused on Darragh doing things like leaning over to take shot after shot and unbuttoning his denim jacket.

  Afterwards he proclaimed himself starving and we walked back to Temple Bar together, towards a restaurant called Milano. Since I’d already had lunch I watched Darragh wolf down meaty pizza as I sipped coffee and nibbled on a starter of marinated olives, the two of us flying through topic after topic—his brothers, my parents’ reunion cruise, our respective favourite Beatles songs, and me being a vegetarian.

  “Does it bother you seeing other people eat meat?” he asked. “Are you hating me for this?”

  “It’s fine. My parents aren’t vegetarians and neither are most of my friends. I’m just sitting here feeling ethically superior.”

  “I’m sure you are.” Darragh’s smile was just as wide as my own.

&
nbsp; We play-argued about paying for my part of the bill, me shoving a five euro note and some coins at Darragh and him pushing the money repeatedly back across the table until the waitress sidled up to our table and, smiling tiredly as if she’d had a rough shift, called us “cute.” Out on the cobblestones afterwards I felt jacked up with a combination of confusion and a natural high from being in Darragh’s presence for so long. Truthfully, I was barely able to stand still. I knew that I was about to do something I shouldn’t and that he wouldn’t stop me. We were bigger than any lines. I could barely remember why we’d bothered with them to begin with.

  “I’m really wired,” I said, stretching my arms out into the cool Dublin air and bouncing on my heels. “What’d they put in the coffee in that place?”

  “Coffee beans,” Darragh volunteered with a laugh. “I’d love to see you after a couple of espressos.” He stood motionless in front of me, those astonishingly bright blue eyes drinking me in.

  “You’re being incredibly well behaved,” I told him, smiling so hard that my jaw twinged.

  “Exactly how you wanted.” He tilted his head in a way I was sure he knew was adorable. I glanced down at his jeans, closed the distance between us and tucked my hand partway into one of his front pockets. “Look who’s getting bold,” he said, but of course he was smiling, and I inched closer still, until my capris rubbed against his jeans.

  Darragh was relishing his relative innocence, not touching me but not backing away, and I was going to kiss him any second now. I slid my fingers out of his pocket, angled my head up and… No. I couldn’t. Not with Ursula still in the background. It wasn’t right.

  “Sorry,” I said under my breath, pulling back. I heard the sharp mixture of regret and longing in my voice and knew Darragh had heard it too.

  Even now that we were standing apart, we felt solidly together. It was the rest of the world that seemed distant.