Here Are the Young Men

by Rob Doyle

  We were all laughing away. Cocker was probably exaggerating, if not making the whole thing up, but it didn’t really matter. Even if the stories Cocker told were total bullshit, and they usually were, the fact that he’d bother to lie like that at all was funny in itself.

  Jen was smiling too but she seemed far away, looking out at the sea. While we were still chuckling about the Spanish dope fiend, she said: ‘I don’t really know where I want to go. Maybe Asia, or South America. Or Africa. I don’t know. Somewhere really different. Where do people go? People travel these days, don’t they? You don’t have to be rich to do it, or –’

  ‘But ye are rich,’ I interrupted.

  ‘– or some hardcore adventurer type. People go travellin all the time. But anyway, we’ll see if I get into Trinity or UCD first of all.’

  ‘How come ye want to go travellin?’ asked Cocker. ‘Doesn’t Dublin do it for ye? It’s the centre of the universe. Don’t forget Gay Byrne lives here, and didn’t Celine Dion play the RDS only last week? What more could ye want, Jen?’

  ‘Dublin is just so fuckin dull,’ she said. ‘I mean, I love you lads, and Louise, and Gráinne and Michelle, and some of the others. But most people here, they hardly seem to be alive at all, do ye know what I mean?’

  ‘That’s just what I was sayin to Matthew a few minutes ago,’ said Rez.

  ‘All the yuppies,’ I said. ‘They’ve taken over. We need to launch some kind of resistance.’

  ‘An insurgency,’ said Rez.

  ‘Yeah, with roadside bombs and IEDs and stuff,’ said Kearney. ‘And a war on knackers as well. Dawn of the Dead, it’ll be like.’

  ‘It’s not even that they’re yuppies or whatever,’ Jen said. ‘That’s everywhere. They’re just … I don’t know, spiritless or something. They’ve no real curiosity for life, they just want it the usual way. I’d be bored out of my mind if I stayed here. Don’t yis feel the same, ever?’

  ‘Yeah, I do,’ I said.

  We all fell silent, thinking our own thoughts. After a minute or two Rez said, ‘What about you, Cocker, what’s your plans?’ He’d put on his dark glasses again, despite the cloudy sky.

  Cocker took the spliff that Kearney passed him, pondering the question. ‘I haven’t really got any idea. If I get enough points I’ll study sound engineering, but I probably won’t. I wasn’t exactly at home burnin the fuckin midnight oil, was I? Haha. Porin over the books, like? I doubt I’ll get enough points to get in anywhere.’

  ‘That’s the spirit, Cocker,’ said Kearney.

  ‘And what if ye don’t get in anywhere?’ I asked.

  He shrugged. ‘Work for a while, I suppose.’

  ‘In Dunnes Stores where ye are now?’

  ‘Why not? It’s not exactly a long-term plan or anything. One place is as good as another.’

  ‘As shite as another, ye mean.’

  ‘That’s exactly what I mean.’

  ‘Stackin tins of beans and facin off on the jacks-roll aisle – Cocker, you’re goin to be a credit to your parents, I’m tellin ye,’ said Rez, chuckling.

  ‘Yeah, I know. I can just see me ma flushin with pride when she goes to do the shoppin and meets her thirty-year-old son, fuckin moppin the floor over by the meat counter.’

  Stoned off my head, I got the giggles at the image of a shabbier, older Cocker, ruddy as ever, in a Dunnes Stores T-shirt with some oul one asking him where the tampons were.

  ‘And you, Connelly?’ asked Cocker when my giggling subsided.

  ‘Well, I’m still hopin I’ll be able to get into college,’ I said. I had applied to study English in the few colleges in Dublin where you could do it. English meant literature; that was alright. Books weren’t bad. I wasn’t into them as much as Rez, but they were more interesting than studying business, for example. Business wasn’t interesting at all. In fact I despised it. Besides, the reason I wanted to go to college didn’t have much to do with the pursuit of knowledge; I wanted to go because it seemed like the only alternative was to work, and I hated work. I’d had part-time jobs before and it was a load of shit. The idea of working full-time filled me with horror.

  ‘Ye mean ye seriously reckon you’ll get in when ye never lifted a finger to study for the exams?’ Cocker asked.

  ‘I’ll get enough marks,’ I said. ‘I’m one clever bastard.’

  ‘We’ll see about that,’ said Cocker, grinning.

  The wind picked up. The sea was getting choppier.

  ‘The future,’ said Rez out of nowhere, somberly. We were silent for a while, the Irish Sea crashing cold against the cliffs. I was on a nice buzz and it was making me sentimental. I started feeling sad about everything, kind of nostalgic, and then anxious for what was coming next – real life, as everyone always called it.

  I said to the others, ‘We should all stick together, though. I mean, we should all keep in touch. Not just keep in touch, like ringin each other up and shakin hands when we meet and all that crap, like a bunch of yuppies, but stay close, stay as mates, like. Ye know what I mean?’ I wanted to tell them that they were like a family to me or something, but I was afraid they were going to rip the piss out of me.

  They didn’t take the piss, though, not even Kearney. They didn’t really say anything, just nodded and murmured softly, like they’d been thinking the same thing before I said it.

  A while later, Rez had one of the sudden bursts of energy he was still capable of now and again. He pounced to his feet, dark glasses on like Lou Reed and a spliff dangling from his mouth, and announced, ‘I know what we can do, lads! I’ve got it sussed. After we get the results we can all get our hands on a leprechaun suit each, and then we’ll go into town and stand on Grafton Street and tell all the Yanks who come along that we’re authentic fuckin Irish leprechauns. Can yis picture it? “Ah sure to be Jaysus, aren’t we only a troupe of Irish leprechauns, innocently wanderin down this enchanted Grafton Street, but if yis’d like to throw a few of those silver American coins into me oul Paddy cap, sure it’d be no quare thing at all, at all. Sure aren’t we only magic, us bleedin leprechauns, to be sure to be sure.”’ He held the spliff out like a pipe and puffed on it with his brow furrowed. ‘Jen, you can be Molly Malone.’

  Cocker’s eyes lit up. ‘Did yis ever see the tits on Molly Malone, the one in town? Seriously, have a look next time you’re in there. I always stare down at them until too many people are lookin at me. I can’t help it, they’re fuckin gorgeous. Ye can just tell she’d be total filth. Same as Miss Nolan.’

  Jen was giggling. She looked up at me, sitting very close, her cheek resting on her knee. Her hair was curved like a wave. I looked away.

  Jen went home around four o’clock, taking the DART the few stops back to Blackrock. We walked with her to the station. ‘Give my regards to Lord Bono,’ she said. ‘Anyway, I’ll see you guys on Saturday.’ She flashed me a smile that was bright and sincere. My mind was warm and foggy with the drink. Jen is alright, I thought.

  ‘Right,’ said Cocker when Jen had gone, clapping his hands together. ‘Are we ready to do this, or wha?’

  We walked for twenty minutes before coming to Bono’s house. Cocker knew the way. He had gotten the exact directions from his brother or someone, really keen on doing it, as we all were. Kearney remained quiet as we approached the coastal mansion. I wondered if he was building up to something. That was Kearney’s style.

  A wide gravel driveway led up to the black metallic gate. At the side there was one of those speakerphone things. ‘Here we are,’ said Rez when we reached the gate. ‘The Bonosphere. This is as close as we can get without gettin shot by his lasers.’

  ‘A-Bonomation,’ I said.

  We huddled around the electronic speaker and Rez pressed the button.

  It beeped and a mildly distorted voice said, ‘Yes?’

  ‘Oh hi. Is Bono there, please?’ said Cocker in a fake D4 accent.

  ‘And who may I say is calling?’

  ‘Oh we’re just friends of the great man, fri
ends and admirers, uh, don’t you know.’

  We sniggered and covered the sound with our sleeves, ducking away from the microphone.

  ‘I’m afraid I’ll need a name, sir.’ The voice was deadpan, giving no sign of irritation. Maybe Bono’s security guards were used to this kind of shit.

  Now Cocker’s accent was a posh English one, like the royal family: ‘Oh well yes, please tell Mr Bono that this is his good friend Elton John.’

  The grainy electronic voice had started politely but firmly telling us to get lost when Cocker leaned right into the speaker and shouted: ‘BONO YE WANKER! YERRAN AN OUT-AND-OUT FUCKIN CUNT, DO YE KNOW THAT? YERRA TOTAL FUCKIN DISGRACE TO THE IRISH AND MOST OF ALL TO YERSELF, YER BAND IS SHITE AND I HOPE YE FUCK OFF AND DIE …’

  He paused, panting and out of breath, and I took over.

  ‘YERRAN ABSOLUTE FUCKIN TOSSER, YE DON’T HAVE A CLUE WHAT YER TALKIN ABOUT AND YER FULL OF SHIT AS WELL, ALL THIS BOLLOCKS ABOUT AFRICA AND THE THIRD WORLD ’N’ ALL …’

  Now I was the one who gasped for breath; Kearney shoved me aside and stuck his face into the speaker.

  ‘CUNT! CUNT! FUCKIN GAY FAGGOT WANK-STAIN BASTARD! FUCKIN BASTARD! I FUCKIN HATE YE, I WANT YE TO FUCKIN DIE, YE FUCKIN WANKER!’

  Finally he had to stop and breathe. By now we had all backed off; we looked at Kearney in astonishment. Where the fuck had all that come from?

  ‘Jesus, Kearney,’ said Rez. ‘That’s goin too far, you’re goin to get us arrested.’

  Kearney was bent over, squealing with laughter. ‘Relax, Rez,’ he panted when he was able, hands on his knees and face all red.

  ‘No I won’t fuckin relax. Ye can’t say all that stuff, that’s too much. C’mon, I’m gettin away from here before the guards arrive.’

  I was with Rez on that one. So was Cocker and so, finally, was Kearney, racing after us as we scampered away, through clumps of trees at the sides of the coastal roads, hurrying when we heard the sound of sirens in the distance.

  Hours later, on the bus home, there was no more vodka and I was feeling awful. It wasn’t a hangover, just a sickening sense of emptiness, like there was a cold pit inside me and I was at the bottom, looking up towards a distant skylight, shivering. I wanted to keep getting fucked but there was no way. The lads were all heading home and I had to as well.

  Cocker got off the bus at his stop, muttering that he’d see me in town on Saturday. I watched him walk away as the bus growled off to take me the last few stops.

  There was no one at home when I got there. I went to my room and fished out a porno magazine and had a wank; it was slow and long because I’d been drinking. The picture was of a woman on all fours, looking back over her shoulder into the camera. She had a pretty face. Before I came I felt a stab of sadness that I couldn’t meet this girl, lie in bed with her and do all the things to her that I was thinking about doing while I pulled myself off; but talk to her as well, make her laugh and let her tell me kind things about myself.

  When I had finished I slid the magazine under my bed, wiped myself off with some toilet paper, and then lay down and let a fog of doze wash over me, dragging me into oily oblivion as the night fell outside and the room grew colder.

  2 | Kearney

  Problems with Reality: Kearney Loves Death

  Snapshot Number 1: Drink it in, Kearney!

  – Big titted MILF has to whore herself to pay

  – Fisted, fucked, and left for dead!

  – Sexy fuck meat gets fucked so

  – teen rape Asian anal frenzy

  – Ebony cutie pounded in kitchen then forced to

  – Filthy Euroslut Cindy gives great

  – Clara fists herself in the back of a car. She spreads her pink

  – horny Latina just loves the dick

  – War and Peace – in her pussy!

  – First-time teen slut sucks 2 black cocks and learns to love it!

  – strap-on Sally made to bleed but begs for more

  – Dildo Holocaust – the ANAL solution!

  – 2 Cops pound there Massive Cocks into 4 ripe sluts and DP there tight assholes bloody red n Raw!!

  – is a total freak who literally orgasms, she says, when you fuck her throat until she gags. Check out this

  – Balkan bitch gets boned N stretched by

  – Jane Pain says fuck her mouth til you rip the skin off her face

  And so on and so on.

  3 | Matthew

  Dear Mr and Mrs Connelly,

  We regret to inform you that Matthew has been forbidden from attending next Wednesday’s graduation ceremony, due to his unacceptable behaviour and the lack of respect he has shown for the school, for his teachers and for his fellow pupils throughout the year. This will not affect your son’s academic record with the school.

  My da flung the letter down on the table and turned away in disgust. I said nothing. I sat there and waited for it to be over. My head was still in bits from all the vodka and spliff the day before. My ma looked on from behind him.

  ‘What the hell is goin on with ye?’ my da said.

  We were in the kitchen. A pot was simmering and there was the smell of sizzling grease from fish fingers on the grill. I didn’t answer.

  ‘Well,’ he demanded. ‘What is it? Aren’t ye happy? What a fuckin disgrace. We can’t even see our own child graduatin. Do ye have any idea how humiliatin that is for us?’

  I kept looking at the table, saying nothing. These were rhetorical questions. I wondered whether the lads had been barred as well. Surely they had: we were all as bad as each other.

  ‘When that letter arrived this mornin the first thing I did was get on the phone to Mr Landerton,’ my da went on. ‘From what he says, ye’ve been lyin through yer teeth to us for months. He says he’d be very surprised if ye so much as passed the Leavin Cert. And he said it’s a shame as well, cos ye used to be one of the brightest lads in your class, until ye started gettin all moody and actin the prick. What in the name of God is wrong with ye?’

  I shrugged again, but sensed that if I kept doing that he might take it as a provocation. I said, ‘I don’t know. It’s all … I don’t know.’

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean? “I don’t know.” Can ye not even speak, is that the problem?’

  My mother broke in: ‘Leave him, will ye. Jumpin down his throat like that isn’t goin to help anything, is it?’

  ‘You hang on a minute. I was speakin to him, let me speak to him before ye go defendin him when he’s not even answerin me properly!’

  My mother had placed the lid of the pot at a slight tilt, so some of the heat escaped and it wouldn’t boil over, and now she sat back down at the table with us. ‘We’re just worried about ye, Matthew, that’s all,’ she said softly. ‘Ye always done well at school before. But now there’s this. A whole year of it and then this. What’s gone wrong with ye at all?’

  I wanted to tell them that I was miserable and could they fix everything, like I was a child still. Instead I shook my head and looked intently at the surface of the table. ‘I’m alright,’ I said. ‘Don’t mind Landerton, I’m sure I did alright in the exams.’ I started wondering if I could get away with smoking a spliff out the window of my room, or whether I’d have to ‘go for a walk’ as usual, smoke it out in the cold and the rain, then skulk back in and up to my room to listen to music and fuck around with lava lamps. Or maybe they would go out tonight because it was a Friday and I’d be able to smoke my joints freely, rob some vodka or Bacardi from their press, and get out the porno.

  ‘Look at your sister,’ my ma was saying. ‘Never so much as a word from her teachers, unless they’re singin her praises. Why couldn’t ye have been more like her?’

  I considered some nasty, sarcastic reply but I didn’t have it in me. I kept looking at the table and shrugged limply.

  My da started up again.

  ‘Do ye not realize how lucky ye are? Ye don’t, do ye. Look at all the opportunities that are out there, waitin for ye. This country h
as never had more money in it than it has now. Jesus, we used to be hardly any better off than a Third World country, and I don’t even mean a long time ago. And now our economy is the envy of the bleedin world, and all you and your mates do is sit there mopin. I’ll fuckin tell ye now – I envy you, and everyone else your age. Ye can sneer all ye like, but this Celtic Tiger they’re talkin about, it’s no joke. Ye just don’t appreciate it cos ye don’t remember what it was like before, when we had sweet fuck all. Back when I was eighteen, nineteen, Jaysus, I’d have given me right arm to have what all youse have. But ye don’t lift a finger. Ye just can’t see it, can ye.’

  He looked like he was going to say more, but instead he just scowled and shook his head. I looked hard at the table.

  ‘It’s true, Matthew,’ my ma said. I saw that she was nearly in tears and there was a feeling in me like a rising heat. But I hated them both.

  ‘What the hell are ye goin to do with yer life?’ my da said. ‘I’ll tell ye one thing, if ye really did make a balls of your Leavin Cert because ye were too busy dossin and feelin sorry for yourself, ye better not expect us to support ye. The way yer goin, ye might end up on the fuckin street. Have ye thought about that? I suppose ye’d expect someone else to sort it all out for ye if ye did. Just like me fuckin brother. What’ll ye do for the summer? Have ye started lookin for a job yet?’

  I scowled and said, ‘I just did me last exam yesterday, how could I have had time to find a job?’

  ‘Well ye better get lookin for one soon enough, cos ye needn’t think ye’ll be mopin around here all summer long.’

  ‘What’ll ye do if ye don’t get into college?’ my ma said desperately.

  ‘I will get in,’ I said, still not looking them in the eyes.

  My da sighed in exasperation and clattered up from his chair. He hissed and muttered as he banged out of the room.