by Tara Heavey
That night Sarah had a dream. She was all alone in the sea. She was happy, joyful, even. She was swimming with abandon. She was strong and she was masterful, slicing through the water with an ease she seldom felt in real life. In her joy, she swam further out than she had intended until she could no longer see the shore. Suddenly the sea was alive with dolphins. Hundreds of them. Thousands. As far as the eye could see. And she was the only human. Everywhere there were fins and tails and countless silver arcs. Dolphins breaching. Dolphins diving. Dolphins leaping and spinning and dancing. A frenzy of dolphins whipping up the water until it was no longer calm. They were circling her now, leading her, she didn’t know where. She no longer had to swim, carried along by a thousand slipstreams: she was buoyed up. Buoyant. Speeding along, faster and faster until the feeling was no longer pleasant, until panic set in. She tried to hold herself back but it was too late: she couldn’t break the momentum. Still she struggled against it and was no longer buoyed up. She was sinking and flailing, suffocating and choking.
‘Sarah.’ In the distance someone called her name. Calling her back to shore.
‘Sarah.’ Louder.
‘No.’ She felt herself trying to say it, forcing the word out of her throat.
‘No.’ She got it out and she was awake.
Aidan was with her, holding her. ‘Sarah. You’re okay. You were having a nightmare. You’re okay now.’
Sarah relaxed. Then she sat up in the dark and groped around for her glass of water. After she had had a few sips, she lay down and sank into the warm, human body that was offered to her.
Chapter 34
A secret part of Tommy wanted his mother to come home. It hadn’t been all that great without her. A hangover every morning didn’t have much to recommend itself. And the novelty of cold pizza or chocolate-chip cookies for breakfast was wearing thin. Which was why, this morning, he was preparing a breakfast worthy of and reminiscent of his mother – muesli, natural yogurt, orange juice. A girl’s breakfast. There was still plenty of that sort of stuff in the house: he’d touched none of it since her departure and chosen instead to use the money she’d left him to buy takeaways and junk. A little more than a week later, he felt nauseated. So junk food was bad for you. He ruminated on this as he chewed his muesli. It tasted so bland. He got up, took the sugar out of the press and shovelled a few spoonfuls on top. Much better.
This time alone had really made Tommy doubt himself. When he thought of going away to college, he felt only terror whereas once there had been a mixture of fear and excitement. It wasn’t so much the prospect of having to deal with the practicalities of everyday living that bothered him: he didn’t know whether he could cope with the loneliness. Mam rang him every day, Alannah every second day, and still … the house felt wrong. Like he didn’t belong. Sure, he’d have his friends over in the afternoons. But then they’d go home to their own families, their own beds.
He’d taken to bringing Rufus up with him at night. The delighted animal, normally confined to the kitchen or the porch, would clatter up the stairs and land with a satisfied snort on the rug beside Tommy’s bed. Tommy would sometimes play the guitar to him and the dog would whine theatrically. His breathing at night was soothing and comforting.
The muesli had proven wholly unsatisfying. He was back at the fridge, trying to decide what next to feed the black hole that was his adolescent stomach.
‘Hello, Tommy.’
‘Jesus Christ!’ He dropped the block of cheese he’d been holding. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘I came to see how you are.’
‘What would you care?’ Tommy hated the way it came out, sounding so childish.
His father frowned slightly. He was upset. Good. ‘I heard your mother’s gone away for a few days.’
‘So you thought it would be safe to come back to the house and collect the rest of your stuff?’
‘No. That’s not why I’m here. I really do want to know how you are.’
‘I was just fine until you went off with that woman and wrecked our lives.’
‘Tommy, I never wanted to hurt you or Alannah.’
‘What did you think was going to happen, Dad?’ It came out as a yell.
‘I know. You’re right, of course.’ His father pulled out a chair and sat at the kitchen table.
What was he doing? He wasn’t staying, was he? Tommy began to feel panicky: this wasn’t a conversation he felt equipped to have. He didn’t feel strong enough to resist him. When he’d first seen him standing there, his strongest impulse had been to fling himself into his arms, as if he were a little boy. He hated himself for it. He hated his father for making him feel like that. His show of anger was hard to maintain when he felt so taken off guard. If only it wasn’t so early and he wasn’t so hung-over. His father was looking at him curiously. Tommy had the horrible feeling that he could read his thoughts. He glanced at the kitchen clock. ‘Mam’s due back any minute, you know.’ The truth was, he didn’t know when his mother was coming back. If ever.
His father followed his eyes to the clock. ‘Those batteries need to be changed again. There’s no way it’s four o’clock.’
‘She’s coming home this morning.’
‘That’s good. Only if I were you, I’d clean up the kitchen before she gets back. She’ll have your guts for garters if she sees it like this.’
His father was smiling at him now. Tommy turned away so he wouldn’t see the smile on his own face. It felt achingly good to talk to him. Too good. He tried to bring his anger to the fore again as he opened the fridge door and looked blindly towards the eggs. He felt his father come up behind him.
‘Here. Let me make you breakfast.’
‘No, I don’t want …’
‘It’s the least I can do.’
His father took him firmly by the shoulders and led him to the table. ‘You sit yourself down. You look like you could do with the rest.’
Tommy felt more and more powerless. His body betrayed him, collapsing into the chair. His emotions were betraying him too.
‘What’ll it be?’
Tommy didn’t reply.
‘A full Irish, I think. Best cure in the world for a hangover.’
He felt his father grinning at him but he wouldn’t look up. Couldn’t betray his mother by doing so. He sat there helplessly while his father busied himself around the kitchen, moving with annoyingly familiar ease. He cooked a mean breakfast and Tommy’s tastebuds betrayed him too as the smell of rashers filled the air.
There was an urgent scraping at the back door. Rufus. Tommy had let him out for his pee earlier. It was amazing Rufus had missed his father coming in. But he knew he was here now. Either that or the rashers. Tommy got up and opened the door. The dog went into paroxysms of ecstasy, the entire back half of his body wagging, whimpers escaping from his whiskered lips. His father petted him, knowing exactly how the dog liked to be rubbed. Stupid mutt with his misplaced loyalty. Tommy would never be like that.
This was all so confusing. On the one hand, the scene felt so familiar. On the other, it was completely wrong. Then his father placed his breakfast in front of him and it smelt so right. ‘There you go. Just what the doctor ordered.’
Tommy looked his father directly in the eye. He could tell he was a little bit shocked at what he’d just said, that it had just slipped out. There was a split second in which the two nearly grinned at each other, but Tommy looked at his plate just in time. His father sat beside him and they began to eat.
‘There weren’t any mushrooms,’ his dad said, after the first mouthful. ‘I suppose they were too much like vegetables to be included on your shopping list.’
Tommy ignored the comment and kept on eating. It occurred to him that he was at an advantage here. That he could actually get away with being rude to his father. For the first time in his life. He’d never have got away with ignoring him like that before.
They ate in silence, soaking up egg yolk and juices with the type of unhealthy white pr
ocessed bread that Fiona would never have allowed into the house. They washed it down with pint glasses of full-fat milk. That was normally forbidden too. If only the circumstances were different, this would have been heaven.
They were finishing, mopping up.
‘I’m really sorry, Tom.’
Tommy couldn’t bring himself to look at his father. It wasn’t disgust. It was fear. Fear of honesty. Fear of emotion. Fear that he was going to cry.
Too late. The first tears came and he swiped at them.
‘Really sorry.’
The deluge began and he covered his face. His father rubbed the back of his neck. Then he moved his chair in closer and hugged Tommy’s head into his chest. That distinctive musky smell. Tommy cried with abandon.
‘You’re all right, Tom. You’re all right.’
After a couple of minutes, Tommy pulled his head away and began to recover himself. ‘Why did you do it, Dad?’
‘Well.’ Aidan clasped his hands in front of him thoughtfully. ‘You’ve heard the saying bandied about “You can’t help who you fall in love with.” ’ His father looked at him and Tommy gave a slight nod, not that he knew anything about falling in love.
‘Well, I always thought that was horseshit. An excuse people used to be … unfaithful.’
The word made Tommy cringe and his father seemed pretty embarrassed too.
‘But then I met Sarah and it was like the whole world just … just … I can’t describe it.’
Tommy wasn’t convinced. ‘I thought you loved Mam.’
‘So did I.’
What had his father just said?
‘I mean, I do. I do love your mother. How could I not love her? She’s a wonderful woman. She’s kept us in line all these years, hasn’t she?’ His father smiled at him weakly but Tommy had no intention of going along with this pathetic attempt to get him onside.
‘But you can’t have loved her. Not really.’
His father looked at him sadly. ‘I suppose there are different types of love. Different strengths. Different intensities.’
Tommy believed his father was trying to tell the truth, but it just didn’t add up. ‘You’ve turned our whole family into a lie. My whole life.’
‘No, Tommy. That was never a lie. That was real. Is real.’
‘How can it be?’
‘We’re still a family. Only … altered.’
‘Ripped apart.’
‘No. My feelings for you and Alannah are exactly the same. You’ve got to believe that.’
‘How can they be after what you’ve done to us? How do I know you won’t stop loving us the way you stopped loving Mam?’
‘I haven’t and I won’t.’ His father sighed. ‘Look, the love between parent and child is different from the love between a man and a woman. There’s a special bond, Tom. It’s unbreakable. A parent never stops loving their children. I hope you get a chance to experience that yourself some day.’
‘If I ever have kids I’m never going to do to them what you’ve done to me and Alannah. Never.’
His father couldn’t answer that. He just nodded.
‘Do you know what Kevin told me?’
‘What did he tell you?’
‘That everyone knew about you and Sarah. The whole town. Back in June. Everyone except me, Lana and Mammy. He didn’t tell me because of the exams. You made fools out of all of us, Dad.’
His father studied the table. ‘What does Alannah think?’
‘She doesn’t want anything to do with you.’
His father sighed again and seemed to slump further in his seat. To Tommy he looked completely crushed, more tired than he’d ever seen him. Old and defeated. He felt something he’d never have expected to feel in this situation – he certainly hadn’t felt it over the past few weeks: sympathy. He wanted to say something, but he didn’t know what. He deserves to feel this bad, he told himself. And yet …
‘Is Sarah …?’
‘She’s okay right now. Still able to get out. Her sister’s here. That’s given her a lift.’
Tommy nodded. ‘There’s something else I don’t understand.’
‘What?’
‘If Sarah’s …’
‘Dying?’
‘Yes. Then why couldn’t you just be a really good friend to her? You didn’t have to leave us. I don’t get it, Dad. What’s in it for you, when she’s only going to be around for a little time longer?’
‘What’s in it for me?’ His father’s mouth was grim. ‘That I get to be with the woman I love for every second of every day that she has left.’ He got up slowly, stiffly. ‘I’m going back now, Tom.’ He took a wad of notes out of his pocket and put them on the table. ‘There you go. Buy yourself a few vegetables. You look like you could do with them. Or at least have them in the fridge for when your mother comes back.’
Rufus got up hopefully as Aidan approached the back door. He bent low and caressed his head. ‘No, boy. You stay here.’ He paused with his hand on the back-door handle. ‘You know, I could really do with some help on the boat.’
Tommy stared at him silently.
‘Just think about it.’
Tommy had to resist the urge – the childish urge – to run after his father and fling himself into his arms. Because he wasn’t a child any more.
Chapter 35
Fiona let the sea-breeze blow right through her. She lifted her face to it, held out her arms. Not too far out, because she and Yvonne were walking the seafront in Clontarf, and there were many people coming towards them. Thanks be to God, she didn’t know a single one of them. The anonymity was so diametrically opposed to the claustrophobia of her home life that it was freeing. She’d miss this sense of expansion when she returned.
Since she’d arrived at Yvonne’s, Fiona had been feeling as if she were shedding little pieces of herself. Which pieces she couldn’t quite identify, and whether they’d still be missing when she got back, she couldn’t be sure. But she did feel she would be returning home a slightly altered woman.
‘I’ll miss you when you go back.’ Yvonne was reading her thoughts.
‘It’s lovely of you to say so, Yvonne, but you must be sick of me by now. I’ve been here nearly two weeks. If I have a house-guest for longer than two nights I feel like I’m losing my mind.’
‘You must be joking. You’re the easiest visitor on earth. A home-cooked meal on the table every evening when I come in from work. Jesus, who wouldn’t miss that? Poor Richard will anyway. He’s been spoilt rotten since you arrived. He didn’t realize how hard done by he was before. He’ll be wondering what kind of a wife he got himself lumbered with.’
Fiona doubted it. The two had been married for less than a year and were still very much in love. Fiona had found it almost painful to watch them together, even though she knew they were toning down their displays of affection for her benefit. But even little things, like hearing them chatting in bed at night, were excruciating.
Anyway. This was only an issue in the evenings. Richard and Yvonne worked during the day so Fiona had filled her time with museums and shops, galleries and cafés – bliss in any other circumstances. She’d visited her parents. Of course, she hadn’t told them about Aidan or even that she was staying in Dublin. She could imagine what they’d have to say and she wasn’t ready to hear it.
‘It’s not just the meals I’ll miss,’ Yvonne continued. ‘I’ve really loved our chats – kicking back with a glass of wine in the evening. Life is great here, obviously, but the one thing I really miss about Clare is the great sessions we used to have putting the world to rights.’
‘Ah, go on …’
‘No, seriously, Fiona, you’re great company. Never forget that.’ Yvonne gave her arm a little squeeze.
Fiona was glad she was wearing sunglasses, so her friend couldn’t see the tears in her eyes. She wished she could believe those words to be true but she was acutely aware of her many flaws. It was as if she’d only just begun to see herself clearly and she didn’t like
what she saw – particularly her tendency to be such a know-it-all at times. She guessed it was because she identified so strongly with her mind and felt her intellect was all she had to offer. When she had been growing up, people had always praised her for being clever and top of every class. Maybe she had fallen so deeply in love with Aidan because he seemed to regard her mind as just one part of an amazing package. She remembered how playful and liberated she had felt around him in the early years of their marriage. But now she saw that over the years, as they had settled into the routines of work and child-rearing, her easy-going side had gone into decline. The two weeks at Yvonne’s had made her realize she needed to find it again. Even if her marriage was over, she needed to reinvent herself. She would prove to herself – and everyone else – that she had far more to offer than efficiency and brain-power.
‘Are you hungry yet?’ Yvonne had stopped walking.
‘Yes, I think we’ve had enough exercise to justify lunch,’ said Fiona, pulling herself together.
‘How about that pub over there? They do a mean toasted sandwich.’
The two women stood arm in arm at the traffic-lights, waiting for the colours to change.
‘You do know, don’t you, that you can stay with us for as long as you like?’
‘I know that and thank you, Yvonne, but it’s high time I got back to my own life. Got back and faced things, found out whether or not Tommy’s burned the house down around his ears.’
Yvonne laughed. Fiona smiled at her. ‘I’ve missed the little blighter,’ she said. ‘Not that he’s little any more.’
A picture of Tommy at six, wearing a bright blue anorak, pedalling his bike furiously around the driveway, popped into her head. With it came an extraordinary sensation in her chest. She didn’t know what it could be – it certainly wasn’t anything medical – but it felt like a desperate need to see her son as soon as possible. She wanted to see him and hold him and touch him.
Dear God, what had got into her? She was being sentimental today. Melodramatic, even. Tommy was fine. Alannah was fine. It wasn’t as if she’d never see them again.
