A Thousand Roads Home

by Carmel Harrington

  ‘Come on, spill! What do you want?’ Dean asked again.

  ‘You need to be more specific if you want an answer. I do not do vague,’ Ruth said.

  He smiled, promising himself that he would always remember that. ‘What do you want in a relationship?’

  And in an instant, her thoughts clarified and she answered without skipping a beat. ‘That is easy. I want to love and be loved. To understand and be understood. To find my soul mate,’ Ruth replied.

  They both looked over to the bedside locker, where their earlier fortunes sat, side by side. Ruth felt Dean’s eyes on her, but she could not meet them. Her honesty lay between them, fragile.

  ‘I’d like to try to give you all of that,’ Dean whispered into the room. ‘If you let me.’

  Ruth felt her heart race with his words. Could it be true? Had they found their soul mates today, as the fortune predicted? ‘We should get dressed and go back to the beach,’ Ruth said, pulling him to his feet.

  ‘It’s not even 5 a.m.!’ Dean said.

  ‘I know. But if we are quick we might make the sunrise,’ Ruth said.

  They got dressed and Dean drove them back to the beach. They walked to the same spot they had sat on earlier. It was – unsurprisingly – empty. He grabbed her hand and they walked to the water’s edge. The ocean was calm, gently rippling towards the grainy sand. The sky was grey, with orange hues on the horizon. In the distance they saw a boat silhouetted against the skyline.

  ‘Look!’ Ruth said, pointing to their left.

  ‘What am I looking at?’ Dean asked.

  ‘See that small orange dot?’

  ‘Yes …’

  ‘Keep watching it …’

  The dot started to grow, bright yellow, flooding the skyline.

  ‘Oh!’ Dean said, smiling in glee. The sunrise. It was spectacular. As was Ruth. Totally, unfucking-believably-spectacular. He had never felt so alive in his life.

  With the sound of the gentle waves lapping the shore, they stood arm in arm as the sun rose into the sky.

  ‘It’s wonderful how the sun changes everything. The sand is now golden. The birds have appeared. Look!’ Ruth moved from his arms, turning in a circle.

  ‘Why are you single?’ Dean blurted out as he watched her dance around the sand, waving her arms in the air. She was perfect. Almost too perfect. There must be a flaw. Please don’t let there be a flaw.

  When she didn’t answer, a sudden thought struck him. She wasn’t single. She had a boyfriend or a husband.

  ‘You are single?’ he asked.

  ‘I hate that question!’ Ruth finally replied. ‘Why is it the be-all and end-all in life?’

  She stopped dancing, fear making her tremble. Afraid to believe that her mother was wrong. That maybe she did have a chance at that happy-ever-after.

  Dean felt his stomach flip, confused by her statement. Maybe she wasn’t looking for a relationship. Maybe this was just a weekend fling. He should have kept his big mouth shut.

  Yet, he didn’t. ‘I think you are spectacular,’ he said, taking her hands and twirling her around in a circle in the sand.

  ‘I do not think I am single, as it happens. Not any more,’ Ruth said. She turned her face towards his and Dean realised what she was saying. He whooped out loud, before kissing her again, something they had got very good at.

  ‘I told you it would be the end,’ Dean said.

  In one lost weekend together, they went from virtual strangers to madly in love. When Dean dropped Ruth home she knew that they would see each other again.

  ‘I’ll call you every day. I’ll text you every day. Then I’ll be back on Friday so we can spend the weekend together again,’ Dean promised. ‘Remember, there’s no going back now. This is it.’

  ‘This is it,’ she repeated.

  He grabbed her hand and placed something into it.

  You will meet your soul mate today.

  His fortune. She watched him get into his car and waited until he disappeared from sight. She felt calmer than she had ever felt in her life. Both her brain and body were in sync at last.

  He rang her every day. Sometimes several times. He texted. Until Friday arrived, a day Ruth looked forward to so very much. But instead of more kissing and love, there was only silence. Dean disappeared off the face of the earth, as if they had never met.

  No more Dean. No more sunrise.

  50

  TOM

  Now

  Bette Davis watched them load her master into the green van with flashing lights. She was scared. She was cold and she was hungry. And she wanted her family back. Tom had not moved for the longest time.

  Cathy stood by their bed and said, ‘We need to talk.’

  Her words made his heart race. He’d always worried that one day she would work out that he wasn’t a charming fecker after all. She wagged a small grey velvet cushion at him.

  Relief flooded him, making him feel silly for doubting her. For doubting himself.

  ‘What have I done now?’ he asked, grinning.

  ‘How long are we married now?’

  ‘Ten years this October,’ he answered.

  ‘That’s a long time for me to pick up cushions from the floor whenever it’s your turn to make the bed,’ Cathy said.

  ‘I put four pillows on the bed! Far as I can see, that’s all we need.’

  ‘What about the cushions?’

  ‘It’s like they’re multiplying,’ Tom answered. ‘Every time I look, there’s another one on the bed, or on the sofa downstairs. I feel like I’m under attack.’

  He picked up a small grey oblong one and held it up, as exhibit A. ‘This one wasn’t here last week, and what on earth is it anyhow?’

  ‘It’s a jumper cushion. It adds some texture. And it’s quirky. Feel it. Isn’t it lovely?’

  ‘It feels like an Aran sweater my gran made me when I was a kid. I hated that jumper. Made me look like Foster and Allen,’ Tom replied.

  She fought a smile that was sneaking its way onto her face.

  He continued, ‘One of these days I’ll wake up on the floor. The scatter cushions will have won the battle.’

  ‘But they make the bed look so pretty,’ Cathy said.

  ‘But they have no use,’ Tom replied.

  ‘But make me happy,’ Cathy said.

  Game over. Why didn’t she just start with that? ‘But then the cushions must stay.’

  She let the smile flood her face this time. ‘No more throwing them in a corner.’

  ‘Absolutely.’ They both knew this was a lie.

  ‘Like this,’ she said, arranging them in a way that made her happy. ‘There. Doesn’t that look much better?’

  Tom looked at the bed and for the life of him he couldn’t see it.

  ‘Infinitely,’ he answered. ‘Can I go to work now?’

  She leaned up to kiss him on his cheek, shooing him out the door.

  Their second-to-last conversation was about cushions.

  51

  Now

  Homeless services in Dublin confirmed the body of a man in a sleeping bag, thought to be an Irish national, was discovered by a member of the public before 9 a.m. on Friday.

  Temperatures in the city fell to zero on Thursday night. This is the first death of a homeless individual in Dublin this year.

  Ruth walked down the hotel corridor towards their lift. A blast of cold hair rushed by her as the door to the car park opened. DJ walked in leading Bette Davis on her leash, followed by Kian, Cormac and Anna.

  DJ looked at his mum and burst into tears.

  ‘What happened?’ Ruth asked.

  ‘I’m sorry, love. But we just saw your pal the Doc being loaded into an ambulance.’

  ‘Is he OK?’ Ruth asked, and felt her legs go weak when Kian shook his head.

  Kian ushered them into the lift as they made their way upstairs to Ruth’s room. He instructed Anna to go get her mother. Ruth had gone deathly white and the boy was crying. He felt ill equipped to deal wi
th all of this on his own.

  ‘How do you know he was dead?’ Ruth asked when they were inside her room.

  ‘I spoke to the paramedic. He died shortly before they found him. Nothing they could do,’ Kian said.

  DJ was huddled on his bed, clutching Bette Davis, rocking back and forth.

  Kian was relieved to see Aisling and Anna arrive.

  ‘How can you be sure it was the Doc?’ Aisling asked.

  Kian nodded. ‘I’d recognise that dirty old overcoat of his a mile off. The paramedics said he’d died of hypothermia. He must have fallen asleep outside. In these temperatures, sure nobody could survive.’

  ‘Mr Bones said he was staying in the shelter. Earlier today, he said that,’ Ruth said.

  ‘He must have changed his mind,’ Aisling said, holding her friend tight.

  ‘Where are they bringing him?’ Ruth asked, pushing Aisling away. She would not believe that he was gone. Not Dr O’Grady. This could not be how it ended for him.

  ‘To Beaumont Hospital,’ Kian said.

  Aisling said, ‘Ah, pet, I’m sorry.’

  ‘I was going to insist he get help,’ Ruth said. ‘That was my plan. No more living on the streets.’

  ‘Bette Davis is bleeding, Mam,’ DJ sobbed. He wanted the Doc. He wanted his mam to make this all OK again.

  Kian took a look at the gash on the side of the dog’s face. ‘Superficial, but she’s had a belt of something, by the looks of it. Poor fecker. I’ll get something to clean it up.’ As he walked to the door, he said, ‘You’ll be thrown out of here if Erica sees that dog.’

  DJ shouted, ‘I’m not losing her, too. Mam, tell him.’

  Ruth walked over to her son and kneeled down on the ground beside him. She did not wait to be asked for a hug. Nor did she count as she pulled both him and Bette Davis into her arms. She simply comforted her son and promised him that she would somehow make this all OK.

  ‘Aisling, Kian, can you take care of DJ and Bette Davis for me? And not a word to Erica about the dog.’

  ‘Between the lot of us, we’ve all broken her bleeding rules. Don’t worry, we’ll help you keep this secret,’ Kian said.

  ‘I am going to the hospital,’ Ruth said to DJ, popping her knuckles over and over.

  ‘There’s no point, love. He’s dead, one hundred per cent,’ Kian said, not unkindly.

  ‘He is my friend and on his own. At the very least he deserves someone to identify his body.’

  Kian grabbed a twenty-euro note from his pocket and pressed it into Ruth’s hand. ‘Get a taxi then. You’re shaking like a leaf.’

  Ruth looked up to thank Kian and he held his hand up. ‘That’s what friends are for. You go and take care of your pal; we’ll be here waiting for you when you get back.’

  Less than an hour later she walked into the lobby of Beaumont Hospital. ‘Can you tell me where to go? I’m looking for Dr Tom O’Grady,’ Ruth asked the receptionist.

  ‘One moment.’ The woman tapped the name into the screen and said, ‘First floor. Room 160.’

  Three hundred and three steps to the room where her friend lay. Ruth would never forgive herself. She should have asked more questions. She should have pushed him to go home. She should have done something to keep him safe. He was her friend. And now he was …

  ‘Hello, Ruth.’

  Ruth clutched the door frame to Room 160, unable to believe her eyes.

  Sitting on the bed, very much alive, was Dr O’Grady.

  Pop, pop, pop. Shock, denial and then relief floored Ruth. Dr O’Grady? Joy came next and Ruth wanted to scream, to laugh, to dance and then scream again. He was alive!

  ‘You are not dead.’

  ‘I should hope not.’

  ‘But I thought you were dead,’ Ruth insisted, and then she began to cry large gulping tears, her body shaking as it went through an assault of emotions. She moved towards his bed, one, two, three, four steps. ‘They found you in the park. The paramedics said you had died of hypothermia. It’s been on all the news stations.’

  ‘That wasn’t me, Ruth. I’ve been in here for two days now.’

  Five, six, seven, eight … and she was by his bed. She blinked her eyes, to make sure she was not hallucinating. She reached out and touched him. He was here. Bruised and swollen. But here.

  ‘Kian saw your overcoat on the body they put into the ambulance,’ Ruth said. ‘I do not understand.’

  Tom’s face crumpled. ‘Ah, no. Lash! He stole my overcoat from the shelter a few days ago. The stupid fecker. Ah, no.’

  ‘That is the best news I have ever heard,’ Ruth said, then put her hand to mouth, horrified, saying, ‘Not about Mr Lash …’

  ‘I know what you meant,’ Tom replied. ‘Can you call the Peter McVerry Trust? To tell them about Lash.’

  ‘I will take care of that,’ Ruth said. ‘You look like an extra from The Walking Dead.’ Tom’s eye was swollen and blood had filled the white of his eye.

  ‘Few cracked ribs, a small concussion. Nothing major,’ Tom said.

  ‘What happened?’ Ruth asked.

  ‘Remember Sheila?’

  Ruth nodded. ‘Bones told me what happened to her.’

  ‘Her boyfriend, Bobby, caught up with me.’

  ‘Why on earth would he do such a thing?’ Ruth said. ‘You helped her. You saved her baby.’

  ‘He wanted my doctor’s bag. Looking for drugs, I would imagine. It’s happened before.’

  ‘You have to ring the guards,’ Ruth said.

  ‘Maybe. But I suspect they will not be too worried about two rough sleepers having a fight.’

  ‘This was not a fight. It was an attack,’ Ruth said.

  ‘I need to get back on my feet to find Bette Davis. And my rucksack.’

  ‘She is with DJ at the hotel,’ Ruth said.

  Relief made Tom shake. He had been so worried.

  ‘We do not have your rucksack,’ Ruth said.

  ‘I have to get it back. It’s important,’ Tom said.

  ‘You are alive. That is the most important thing.’

  ‘It had my stethoscope in it. My parents gave me that. And a grey cushion. I don’t care about anything else, just those two things.’

  Ruth watched raw, visceral pain twist her friend’s face. The room swelled with the unanswered questions. What happened to Tom that made him like this? A doctor, happily married, now living on the streets … She had to find a way to keep Tom inside once he left this hospital. While there was never a good time to be a rough sleeper, the current cold spell was disastrous for anyone stuck on the streets. She would not let this kind man end his days broken, bruised and perished.

  Ruth said, ‘I have some savings. The deposit I got back from my flat. And despite my best efforts I am unable to find a suitable flat in Dublin to rent. It’s enough for you to take a room at The Silver Sands Lodge when you get out of here. That way I can take care of you while you recuperate.’

  ‘I prefer to live outside,’ Tom said, feeling close to tears again. Her kindness was unravelling pieces of him inside that had been tied up in knots for years. And he was no longer sure he knew what he wanted.

  ‘You cannot sleep outside anymore. No argument. When you are able I will bring you to Parkgate Hall and you must present yourself as homeless. You have been rough sleeping for a decade, Dr O’Grady, and it is killing you slowly, one day at a time. You must end this before it ends you.’

  Tom closed his eyes, feeling dizzy, elated, sick, happy, all at once. Ruth cared about him. She was everything he had hoped Mikey would grow up to be. Kind. Compassionate. Fearless. Strong. He wished she were his daughter. He would have been so proud to be her father. He should tell her that.

  Ruth said, ‘I do not care that you have gambled away your home.’

  Tom opened his eyes in shock at the words. ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘Well, you do not drink, or take drugs. Kian offered gambling as a possible reason for your situation.’

  ‘Ruth, I chose to sleep outdoors. N
obody forced me.’ He knew he had to tell Ruth everything, to say the horror out loud. But he’d spent ten years denying this truth. He looked up and saw the bravest person he knew in front of him. And that gave him the strength to admit his truth. Their truth. Cathy and his.

  ‘Cathy is dead.’

  Ruth nodded. Somewhere she knew that this must be the truth. Dr O’Grady would never leave his wife. ‘I am so very sorry.’

  ‘After she died, our apartment was just a cruel shell filled with too many bad memories. Outside, there is no white noise around me, confusing me, distracting me. I can find my way home in my dreams.’

  ‘You can dream inside,’ Ruth said.

  ‘I told you, there was too much pain inside. When I’m under the stars I find my way home every time.’

  ‘Cathy would not want this for you,’ Ruth insisted.

  Tom ignored that and said, ‘We used to talk about love a lot, Cathy and me. The longer we knew each other, the more it expanded. And if you are lucky, when you fall in love that person loves you back in the exact same way. That’s the best kind of love, one that is received and reciprocated.’

  Ruth wiped away the tears and the thought of Dean. ‘That is everything.’

  ‘Not the only everything. What you have with DJ, that’s everything, too.’

  ‘I wish I could be one of those mothers who says “I love you” every day. I think it, but the words get tongue-tied in my head.’

  ‘What’s more important is showing how you feel. You do that plenty,’ Tom replied.

  ‘I think about the day he was born a lot. When you placed him on my breast, my world expanded and shrank all at once,’ Ruth said.

  Tom felt tears sting his bloodied eyes. ‘I think you are better at saying things than you think. You should tell DJ exactly that because every eloquent word you have just spoken is love.’

  ‘He is so angry with me about his father,’ Ruth said.

  ‘You cannot give him something you don’t have,’ Tom replied. ‘He’ll work that out for himself in the end.’