Just Like You Said It Would Be

by C. K. Kelly Martin

  “Thanks, Zoey.” My parents would be happy to have constant access to me, which wasn’t a bonus, but now Joss would too. And having my own phone would also make it easier to speak to Darragh. If we were going to be real friends that meant being in regular communication.

  Communicate, that’s what friends did. Yet my best friend knew nothing of what’d been going on between me and Darragh since the night we’d kissed in Temple Bar. I’d kept her in the dark knowing she’d disapprove and that she was deeply knotted up in her family’s problems. But keeping a second secret from Jocelyn felt impossible—the straw that broke the camel’s back—and I resolved to explain about us as soon as she was ready to hear it.

  I honestly tried to be patient and wait for her to be in touch about the trial, but the tension was so thick it threatened to smother me and I caved in shortly after eleven, texting:

  You can get me on this number whenever you want – it’s all mine. Or Skype anytime. I’m back at the house now.

  A message buzzed back to me within minutes:

  It’s done. Ajay pled guilty, didn’t ask for leniency. My parents are really upset about that. But Ajay seems nearly relieved. Sentencing is in 5 weeks and then that will be it, he’ll be sent to prison. We just don’t know for how long yet. But I’ll talk to you tomorrow, ok? Now isn’t a good time.

  I replied with three short words:

  Are you ok?

  It was a stupid question. Of course she wasn’t; the last time she was really all right was before Ajay was arrested. But her final text of the night said:

  Tired but mostly ok. Talk tomorrow.

  By three o’clock the next afternoon we were staring at each other from across the miles, Joss repeating the few details she knew about what had happened in court. Her tone was level, her eyes listless, as she explained that the lawyer believed the Crown Attorney would recommend a sentence of a year because of the extent of Melanie Cheng’s injuries. Ajay’s lawyer would recommend a shorter sentence but even in a less favourable scenario Ajay would be eligible for parole after serving a third of his sentence.

  “It’s going to be okay,” I murmured, like a reflex action. “He’ll do his time and then he’ll be out again. He promised you he’d be all right.”

  “He will be or he won’t,” Joss said, layers of exhaustion weighing down her voice. “He has to go either way.” She coughed into her palm. “I keep telling myself that at least he’s not the one who’s damaged. Not in any way that you can see. He was the lucky one in this.”

  I nodded slowly, her weariness contagious.

  “I should have told you this before—you don’t have to worry about me and Noah anymore,” she continued. “The way things turned out was stupid, and it was my fault that it got that way so I didn’t want to talk about it at first, but I went back to the dog park a few days ago.” She rubbed her eyes and stared at some fixed point behind me. “He would barely look at me in the park. It was humiliating, like I was a stalker. It was obvious he wasn’t going to say one word to me. I tried to pretend it didn’t matter. But as Bert and I were leaving I couldn’t stand it anymore. I walked right up to him and told him he was safe, that I wasn’t going to throw myself at him again.

  “He still looked half-afraid. It was so awkward that I started to apologize and he interrupted and said, ‘I don’t want to get into any trouble. Maybe you’re technically legal, but it wouldn’t be right. It’s not that I didn’t want to be with you. But believe me, I’m doing you a favour saying this—I’m not sure I’d be as well behaved if you came over a second time. I think if it happened again I might have you right there on the couch.”

  I sucked in my breath and stared into Jocelyn’s pupils, trying to read her deepest thoughts. Wasn’t that precisely what she’d wanted from Noah—to throw herself into him and lose herself there for however long it lasted? To escape herself?

  “None of what happened with him seemed all the way real until he said that,” she admitted. “Even when I was at Noah’s apartment, fooling around with him. It was like a fantasy that I was in control of. But him saying it, that was what broke through.” Joss’s raised fists obscured her mouth. “I was shocked enough that I blurted out that I was actually a virgin and you know what he said back?”

  “What?”

  “He laughed at me and said, ‘I knew you were just a kid. Don’t go playing with fire when you don’t know what you’re doing.’ Then he called for Cosmo and stomped away.”

  “Asshole,” I muttered indignantly. “He didn’t have to be like that about it.” As though you couldn’t be a virgin and be interested in fooling around some, and that if it happened that you were, you were taking a risk by acting on it.

  “But that’s essentially what you thought too, isn’t it?” Jocelyn said, eyes sharpening.

  “Because you don’t really know him—and because I know how you are about these things,” I countered. Or was she right that I was being a hypocrite for getting pissed off with Noah when I didn’t think Joss should’ve gone over to his apartment in the first place? “I didn’t want things getting any more complicated for you than they already are.”

  Jocelyn sucked her teeth, nodded grudgingly. “I think I know what you mean. I felt the same when you were talking about Darragh.”

  “About that,” I began. The timing was shitty, but if I didn’t come clean the gap between us would widen. Running through my words, I recounted the conversation Darragh and I had had outside Trinity College.

  Right away Joss sounded moody and impatient. She was scowling before I even got to the part about my friendship pact with Darragh. “What are you doing, Mir? You need to wake up. He still has a girl—”

  “This is what I’m trying to tell you,” I cut in. “After what almost happened again yesterday we had a long talk and promised we’d strictly be friends.”

  “Right.” Jocelyn’s wary expression was something I’d have expected from my mother or even Aunt Kate. “Next time you’ll be telling me he devirginized you, but that it’s okay because it’s you he really likes, not his actual girlfriend.”

  “First, there’s no way in hell that’s going to happen.” My voice spiked. “Second, she was never his girlfriend and the only reason he hasn’t cut things off entirely is because her sister is sick and she’s needed to lean on him and third, we’ve agreed to be friends from now on. Nothing else is going to happen between us. I won’t let it.”

  “Are you so sure about that, Mir? Because it doesn’t sound like you have things under control. It sounds like you’re all over Darragh every chance you get, and I’m sure he’s loving it and that, yeah, he likes you. But you have to be careful. Things get out of control really easily.”

  Joss leaned towards the screen, her knuckles knocking against her keyboard. “It probably wouldn’t be that hard for him to get you into bed considering how much you seem to like him, especially if he said he’d split up with his girlfriend. You’d be so happy about it that you’d forget everything else. And then afterwards he could just go back to his ex like that.” She snapped her fingers. “Mission accomplished. Imagine how you’d feel then.”

  “You think this is all some big play on his part?” She made Darragh sound predatory, and me out of control and helpless. Neither of those things was true. “Why are you so ready to think the worst?”

  “Because of the things you’ve told me. You can’t trust him. All the girls he’s—”

  “That’s not how it looked.” I explained about Sophie, and then what Darragh had confided about his past relationships and sexual experiences. “Everything’s out in the open. Nobody is trying to manipulate anybody.”

  “So why are you two having these conversations if there’s no possibility about sex?” Jocelyn pushed back in her chair, her eyes blazing. “Look, I’m not just going to watch you screw up and pretend I can’t see it happening. That’s not what a real friend would do. You’re deluding yourself about this guy and if you’re not careful it could blow up in your face.�
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  Joss and I rarely fought, and we’d never hung up on each other, but she snapped, “This is stupid. I’m gonna go.”

  “Wait!” I cried. I couldn’t believe she was so angry with me on account of something I’d promised myself not to do with Darragh. It felt as though we were having two different conversations, the one disguised as friendly advice and the other springing from Jocelyn’s bad headspace. There was no doubt that she was taking her shitty feelings out on me.

  And maybe I deserved it…although not for the reasons she thought. I didn’t know why I was able to confide in Darragh about that night with Ajay when I hadn’t been able to tell my best friend, but it shouldn’t have been that way.

  “Don’t go,” I pleaded. “There’s something I need to tell you.” And then, six and a half months late, I was doing it, opening my mouth and letting the truth ooze out of me like a cracked egg. My esophagus burned, my hands shook in my lap and I kept talking—explaining about the beer smell, my uncertainty, Ajay’s irritation. I didn’t know when to stop. I kept repeating the same information in different ways. How unsure I was that I was right. He might have been sober. It could have been nothing. Blah blah blah.

  Jocelyn’s eyes were drilling into the leftovers, her expression telling me I was a bad egg now, rotten and smelly to the core. Her glare slowed me into fits and starts, until I’d nearly stopped talking altogether. “I’m sorry,” I declared finally. “I should have told you back in December, when it might have meant something.”

  “That would’ve been a good idea,” Jocelyn said stonily, the seconds between her words louder than she was. “You told this prick of a player dude and you didn’t tell me.” Had I said that I’d told Darragh? I’d lost track, but I must have. “Why?” she demanded, “Why would you do that?”

  I shrugged helplessly. “I don’t—”

  “You know what, Amira, forget it. Go talk it over with Darragh, why don’t you?” She raised her palm to the screen, instantly disappearing into nothing.

  Breathing fast, I sat staring at the spot where her image had been. Then I shut my laptop and slunk out of Jack’s room, twinging with a remorse so jagged that I could barely tell it apart from anger.

  ______

  Over the next two days I wrote Jocelyn two long emails apologizing and finished the first half of a rough draft of Happiness is Easy. I felt horrible and maybe that should’ve prevented me from being able to work, but it didn’t. All the emotionally-charged discussions I’d had lately somehow seemed to have stirred up extra creative energy. More than I could harness; I was productive but on edge. Friday passed without Jocelyn getting back in touch, and I let it, figuring she needed breathing room.

  That same day Darragh texted wanting to know how the trial had gone. He said he was going to London for a long weekend to his see mom and that he’d be in touch once he was home. Zoey must’ve told him about gifting me her old phone and I texted him back, repeating what I knew about the court appearance and wishing him a good trip. But I kept the rest of my conversation with Jocelyn to myself; I didn’t want to prove her right by running to Darragh and I didn’t want to repeat what she’d said about him either. The whole thing felt grubby, and it was my fault.

  Saturday afternoon I tried to reach Jocelyn on Skype, but she wasn’t signed in. Aunt Kate and Uncle Frank were at the local garden centre picking out flowers and when they arrived home I went into the backyard to keep my aunt company. Aunt Kate dug contentedly in the dirt while I sat on the wrought iron bench about ten feet away, looking at the flowers and listening to the birds sing. I didn’t know any of the flowers by name, but they were pretty and vibrant, some of them as delicate as butterfly wings and others robustly cheerful. My aunt must have put a lot of time into tending to them.

  “I think the birds like it back here,” I said. Three black and white birds I didn’t recognize were hanging out on the lawn just in front of the shed. I pointed to them. “What are those? I haven’t seen them back home.”

  Aunt Kate sat back on her haunches to survey the birds. “They’re magpies. Maybe you don’t have them in Toronto.” She blinked as an overhead cloud peeled back to reveal a glint of sunshine. “Do you know the poem about them?”

  I shook my head.

  My aunt closed her eyes, recalling the verses:

  “One for sorrow,

  Two for joy,

  Three for a girl,

  Four for a boy,

  Five for silver,

  Six for gold,

  Seven for a secret never to be told.”

  I’m not normally superstitious, but I shivered. By the time she’d finished there was one lonely magpie left on the lawn with us. One for sorrow.

  Aunt Kate had resumed her digging and I said, “I’m really sorry about what happened a few weeks ago. Lying about the concert and staying out so late. That’s not like me, and it won’t happen again.”

  Aunt Kate faced me with a neutral expression. “I know, Amira.” She wiped her gloves together, attempting to knock the dirt from them. “And I suppose you know your curfew’s over with as of tomorrow.”

  I sat on my hands and hunched over on the bench. “I remember.”

  “Any plans?”

  “Not yet. Just more writing and then class on Monday.” Darragh’s text was a good start. We’d become friends and there’d be nothing to regret. My skin prickled at the thought. If only Jocelyn could forgive me too, I could be content.

  Aunt Kate nodded, dangling her hands at her sides, and we went back to talking about birds. Like a dutiful student, I asked her the names of the various flowers in her garden. Among them were petunias, stargazer lilies, begonias, dahlias, and something called zantedeschias. Aunt Kate quoted more names than I could remember, but I bet my mother would’ve known most of them. It was strange to think that I’d be able to step into our own yard again in six weeks. I felt so immersed in Dublin that Toronto felt like another lifetime.

  Saturday evening passed as quietly and uneventfully as the afternoon had. I texted Joss, apologizing a third time.

  Can’t we talk? I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you about that night earlier. When it happened Ajay made me feel like I was being stupid and that of course he was fine. Maybe he was too. But that’s not the point. I should’ve said something a long time ago. I should’ve woken you up and told you right then. For that, I’m very sorry. I understand that you’re angry, but please reply.

  But I fell asleep without word from her and heard nothing on Sunday either. Sometimes the time difference made contact tricky, I told myself, not buying my assurances. My brain invented disquieting possible scenarios as I stayed up late into the night, sending her more texts and waiting for word that didn’t come.

  Only when I felt my sister’s comforting hand on my shoulder, the slight pressure of her curved fingers seeking to stem my anxiety, did I realize that I’d fallen asleep.

  Chapter 13

  We came all the way over here.

  Monday’s class was a washout. I was groggy from staying awake until morning and only caught every second sentence from Dermot O’Shea’s mouth. Without so much as a single line from Jocelyn, I was imagining the worst. That she’d never forgive me and that in her anger and distress she’d do something wild. My fingers flew to my phone to text her again the second class was over. Gianni and Clare were right behind me as I walked out the door. Clare was in the middle of asking whether the three of us could grab lunch when I saw Darragh. He was loping through the hall with a guitar case strapped across his back and a red duffle bag in his right hand. He flung his left up in a wave as he spotted me.

  “That’s him, isn’t it?” Clare whispered. “The drama.”

  “Uh-huh.” Judging by Darragh’s baggage, he must’ve just flown in from London. What was he doing at the IFI? We hadn’t made plans for today.

  Clare was well aware Darragh and I were just being friends but she looked him up and down, declaring, “We’ll catch up with you Wednesday then.” Winking blithely at m
e, she reached back to loop her arm through one of Gianni’s. “Stay strong!”

  I smirked and walked on ahead, Darragh and I meeting in the middle of the corridor. The set of Darragh’s shoulders was rigid, but he smiled at me. “I hope this isn’t a bad time. I thought I might be able to catch you after class.”

  “It’s not a bad time. You haven’t been home yet?” I smiled back, although I sensed something was off.

  “Fresh from the airport,” Darragh acknowledged, searching my eyes. “Are you all right?”

  “Yeah.” I hadn’t realized that I’d been wearing my feelings on my face like he was. “It’s just that Jocelyn and I had an argument a few days ago. I told her about that night with Ajay and I haven’t heard from her since. I keep sending texts and getting nothing back.”

  “You told her,” Darragh said approvingly. “Well done.”

  “Only now she hates my guts.”

  “People say all sorts of rubbish in the heat of the moment. She’ll come around, you’ll see. She and her family are probably sorting things out in their heads, trying to cope with the upcoming sentencing.” Uncertainty stretched under my cheekbones, cueing Darragh to add, “Did you try ringing her landline?”

  “Not yet.” I automatically glanced at the time on my phone. “But I will later. It’s only eight in the morning there now.” I’d make myself un-ignorable; she’d have to speak to me. “What about you? Are you all right?”