by Dan Mooney
“Settle down now,” Joel told them, all authority, and to his great surprise they did. “We can do it all again next week.”
More cheers. Joel beamed at his audience.
“You’ll be okay getting home?” asked one young lady with concern as they got up from their junk food.
“I’ll get you a cab,” another young man said.
“No, I’ll get it.” Chris jumped up and flagged the first light he could see.
Joel muttered his gracious thanks, still a little overwhelmed, but had to bark at Frank to make him stop posing for photographs and charming the young people.
“Killjoy,” Frank told him as he wobbled into his seat in the back of the taxi.
“Attention seeker,” Joel countered, without malice.
“Back to face the music,” Frank noted absently.
“S’pose we had to at some point.”
“Worth it. What a birthday treat.”
They settled into silence as the taxi propelled them toward Hilltop, passing down long streets with tall buildings looming up either side, passed gangs of young people and old people, drunk one and all, getting fast food and delaying the end of their evening.
Facing the music was precisely what they’d be doing when they got back. The nurses would be up in arms. Someone had certainly called Eva. He’d have questions to answer, they both would, and then some, and on top of it all, they’d be lectured endlessly as if they were stupid teenagers sneaking out of their parents’ homes instead of two grown men allowed to do what they want.
Just as Joel was realising he wasn’t quite ready to face the music, the cab crossed the bridge, and in a split second decision Joel was calling out, “stop.”
The cab pulled in alongside a tiny park that sat on the river. It had little wooden benches and sculptures and flowers in it. During the day people stopped there to photograph the skyline of the city across the river and to admire the water rushing by or the elegant old castle that he and Frank once spent an afternoon in. At night it was lovely, but a different kind of lovely, a quiet, little bit moody lovely, with the sounds of water serenading the benches.
Joel asked the driver to wait, and, drunk, full of nostalgia and brimming with sentimentality, he climbed from the cab to sit by the river.
“Everything okay?” Frank asked, as he perched himself on the bench next to Joel.
“Fine. Just fancied a moment.”
“Was a little bit hectic back there, all right. You looked like you might faint at one point.”
“You know, I didn’t realise it until tonight, but I don’t like crowds.”
“Unsurprising.”
“You think?”
“You don’t like anyone.”
“I like you.”
The sincerity of his words wasn’t lost on either of them. It was spontaneous and heartfelt and only a tiny bit motivated by all the alcohol. Lucey had been the last real friend he had, and she was the love of his life. Since her absence he’d wandered through his days on his own, killing time, watching the hours tick past him and just trying to get to nightfall so he could go back to bed. Now he had a new friend. He was glad to have someone again.
“I like you, too. You’re a cranky bastard, but I like you.”
Joel let the moment wash over him. He’d rushed through too many important moments in the past. He let the sound of the water and the faint noises of the city drift around him as he sat there and absorbed the view.
The water called to him. If he wanted to he could just end it now. There’d be no music to face. He could easily climb the railing that separated him from the cool waters of the river. He realised that he had always wanted it to end in the river.
He could slide in, float away, let the waters take him away from his anxiety and his uselessness and his fear of death. He could simply go.
He’d have to leave Frank to do it. He didn’t really want to leave Frank. Not right now. And it wasn’t the end that either of them were looking for. It was too prosaic. Too, as Frank had once told him, undignified. His hand twiddled with his Save the Royale badge. The Royale, it seemed, was safe for one more night at least.
“You think there’s a heaven?” he asked Frank eventually.
“Fucking hell.”
“Come on, you’ve read all them fancy books. You’re all philosophical and all that. Simple question.”
“You think asking someone if there’s a heaven is a simple question?”
“I just want your opinion on the matter.”
“Why?”
“Because what if there is one and I’m not going because I’ve killed myself.”
“You finding religion again?”
“Not really. I’m not sure I ever had it in the first place. Just, sort of went through the motions.”
“I don’t think I’m qualified to answer.”
“Why not?”
“Because apparently I’m not going there either.”
“Why? You gonna kill yourself, too?” Joel asked incredulously.
“No, you blithering idiot,” Frank admonished. “Because, well, you know…”
He still couldn’t say it. Even drunk at three in the morning sitting by the river, Frank Adams wouldn’t let himself say the words.
“We’ll have fun in hell together, then. Me and you.”
Frank laughed openly, tipping his head back. Joel hoped it was Adams laughing, and not de Selby.
“We can escape out of there, too,” he told Joel.
“I don’t think there are any rocks in hell that are big enough.”
They sat there for a moment in comfortable silence. The shadow of the castle across the river standing out in the night. Their first day out had been there.
“Ask you a question?” Frank said, cutting through the silence.
“Go ahead, caller.”
“You had fun tonight, right?”
“One of the best nights of my life.”
“So maybe things aren’t so bad?”
“What are you driving at?”
“Maybe if things aren’t so bad… You know?”
“No, I don’t know.”
But Joel did know what he meant. He thought about it for a moment. Maybe things weren’t so bad, maybe there was reason to stay here. Maybe Lily and Chris and Una Clarke were enough, and as long as he had Frank…
Then he remembered what he was doing. Sitting on a park bench by the river in order to delay the scolding he was going to get for staying out too late. The dressing down, potential disciplinary action, the tsk-tsking and disappointed head-shaking from the woman he had raised. All because he wanted to go out. In the end, no one had saved the Royale. It had died.
Yet it was there all the same, a glimmer of hope. If he could salvage a relationship with his grandchildren this late in the game, then maybe there was a chance.
“Maybe it won’t be so bad,” Frank ventured. Once again he had read the look on Joel’s face and saw right into the heart of it.
“Maybe it won’t,” Joel agreed.
“You’ll think about it, then? You’ll think about the suicide thing?”
“I sure will.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
The first noticeable thing when the cab pulled up to Hilltop was the presence of a squad car, its flashing lights inconsiderately still reflecting off the walls of the home as they rotated on the roof of the vehicle. A policeman loitered nearby, a little bored-looking. The next thing was a silver Primera, Tony’s car, which meant Eva was here. The lights were all on, as well. He could see his bedroom light on through their window, and the main reception, and the common room. All visible from the gate. He pressed the buzzer pugnaciously and waited for an extended moment. Clearly no one was manning reception while the hunt was on for the two missing residents.
“Hilltop,” came the slightly breathless voice of Nurse Liam.
“Liam, old boy,” Joel said, forcing some joviality into his reply in a rough approximation of Frank.
“
Mr. Monroe,” came Liam’s voice. Neutral. Not happy, not unhappy, with a little sigh at the end that might have been relief. Then the buzz as the gate began to swing open.
Joel and Frank had disembarked from the cab back up at the bus stop and walked drunkenly to the gates, which meant they faced a long climb up the hill. They had barely started it when he saw Eva heading toward him, her hair in disarray, power walking, a thunderhead.
“Easy now, Joel,” Frank told him. He could see what was coming.
Joel tried to fix the smile on his face, but he knew it was slipping.
“What on earth do you think you’re doing?” she asked as she stormed toward them.
“Walking, my dear,” he replied.
“Don’t you dare…” She seemed to stumble on the words, her frustration evident. “What do you think you are doing?”
“I went for an evening stroll,” he replied casually.
“Until three o’clock in the morning? We were worried sick. We called the police. Nurse Ryan is beside herself.”
“I somehow doubt that,” Joel replied.
“Anything could have happened to you out there. Anything. Do you realise how stupid and irresponsible you were being?”
“Stupid and irresponsible? A man can’t go for a drink with his friend now?”
“No, Dad, a man can’t go for a drink with his friend without telling a soul, slipping out in the dead of night without so much as a word.”
“If I told you you’d have said no.”
“That’s because you’re not supposed to be out, Dad, for Christ’s sake.”
“So what on earth would be the point in fucking telling you?” he shot back angrily. Profanity. He didn’t care. He wouldn’t apologise.
Eva failed to see the ingenuity in his argument and seemed unaffected by the swearing.
“Oh, so this is my fault?” she asked. “You vanish without telling anyone, working us all up and terrifying me, and this is my fault?”
“Not entirely yours, no, but mostly.”
“Mostly my fault? You selfish man, you selfish self-obsessed man.”
The others were making their way out now. The two police officers, Nurse Ryan and Tony. He hurried his step when he saw Eva’s temper coming to a steady boil. Beside Joel, Frank stepped uncomfortably from one foot to the next. Joel had never seen him so lost for what to say or do. He didn’t have time to marvel at the moment, though.
“Selfish? It’s so dreadfully terrible that I might want to get out a little bit every now and then, is it?” Joel asked, slowly working himself up a little to match his daughter. “I’m a selfish bastard for not wanting to be cooped up in this prison all day and all night from now until the time I die, is it?”
“My God, you’re so dramatic, you could have visited us any time you want, but you were too busy sulking.”
“Oh, visit you, is it? For what? To sit in your house being ignored by your children for a few hours on a Sunday? Well, that just makes everything better now, doesn’t it.”
“If you weren’t such an asshole to them all the time, maybe they wouldn’t ignore you.”
The words were hastily spoken and quickly regretted, Joel could see that, but he knew better. His grandkids liked him now, respected him.
“Well, that doesn’t matter because they like me now, and they respect me, and that’s more than I can say for their mother.”
“This might be a good time to call it an evening,” Frank tried to politely interject.
“Shut up, Frank,” Joel said, just as Eva snapped, “Stay out of this, Mr. Adams.”
“I think maybe he’s right,” Tony tried, but there was no stopping them.
“I have tried to provide you with everything,” she told him vehemently. “I’ve tried to be nice. You just complain so completely constantly that’s it’s a challenge to be in your company.”
“Oh, stop, just stop,” he replied, his anger now seething in him, a raw thing, mixed up with drink. “You preferred your mother and we both know it. You enjoyed coming here until she died, and since then you’ve been just waiting for me to check out.”
“How dare you?” she said, tears springing to her eyes.
“I dare because it’s true. That’s why I’m here, isn’t it? To wait out my days? To pass the time until I’m dead?”
“You’re not just selfish, you’re a mean, vicious man,” she shot back, her fury stilling her tears as she scrubbed them away with the back of her hand.
“Yeah, well, the truth hurts,” Joel shot back.
Her tears got to him. He hated to see her cry.
He remembered her first major breakup. Lucey had done most of the talking, but Joel had held her in his arms as she sat, knees folded up to her chest on her bed, and cried. The tears were taking the wind out of his sails, but he was determined not to yield. Instead he brushed past her and headed for Hilltop.
He passed The Rhino on the way. Half in uniform, half in her casual clothes, her hair still tied back in the ponytail that somehow made her less intimidating, less threatening, more human. The look she gave him, though, eyes hard as agates, promised retribution.
Of course, he thought. Punishment for not being a good corpse and refusing to just lie down and die.
It was a dramatic thought. He knew it was. Perhaps Eva was right. Perhaps Frank was contagious. The police didn’t try to stop him; they merely acknowledged his presence as he stomped past them. He didn’t look back at Eva; he wasn’t sure he could see her crying again, but he heard Frank trailing in his wake as he headed for their room.
As they lay in their respective beds, Joel still boiling, his temper kept up by his elevated heart rate and the feed of cocktails and pints of stout, they listened to the sound of the fallout happening a short distance from the window. Joel heard Nurse Ryan talking, though he couldn’t make out the words. Then there was Eva, and Tony. Another voice, presumably a police officer, mumbled something, and then one by one car doors opened and closed and engines gunned and gravel was stirred as they made their way down the hill. There would be consequences. He knew that. Serious consequences.
At the sound of footsteps Joel shut his eyes and pretended to sleep, fearful that The Rhino was coming for him. The feet shuffled about the room for a minute and Joel chanced a look. It was Nurse Liam. He stood at Joel’s bedside, waiting. There was a little gleam in his eye. His face was arrow-straight. Too straight. He placed some water and some painkillers on the nightstand by his bed.
“For the hangover,” he said, and Joel thought he saw a little smile.
“Happy birthday, Frank,” Liam said, as he withdrew.
At least one person was on their side.
*
The first and most significant consequence of a major night out in which the police have to be called, is still the hangover. It had been a long time since Joel had a major hangover, and all at once he was reminded why he had never been much of a drinker. His head pounded. He could still taste the kebab, and his stomach rolled every time he stirred in the bed. Through bleary eyes he could see his bedside table. “Save the Royale” the little pin said. Joel fervently wished that someone would come into the room and put the Royale out if its misery. The May morning poured sunlight through their room, and it stabbed him in the brain. Inevitably, though, things got considerably worse for Joel.
“Mr. Monroe,” the voice said. It was a stern voice. A commanding voice. The Rhino’s voice. “I’d like a word, please.”
Joel shifted in the bed, feeling his stomach twisting in his gut, and tried to sit up.
“Can I help you?” he tried to say. It came out as “cun I hep oo?”
She raised an eyebrow at the state of his disrepair. This morning, back in her pristine uniform with her hair in the usual severe bun, she looked authoritarian again, terrifying again.
“Mr. Monroe, how did you get out of Hilltop?”
“I flew,” he told her, stretching and wincing at the same time.
“Mr. Monroe, I’m askin
g you a question.”
“Not being an idiot, I’m very aware of that, Nurse Ryan, but I have no intention of telling you anything.”
“Perhaps not being an idiot, you’ll think better of that decision and explain to me how you got out of Hilltop.”
“I used a grappling hook and climbed up over the north wall.”
“Perhaps then you’ll be more willing to speak to the psychologist we’ve contacted.”
And there it was. The consequences.
“I assume you and my daughter have decided what’s best for me, without consulting me at all?”
“Your daughter and I have your best interests at heart, Mr. Monroe, and we’re both now quite concerned about you. I’m concerned that Hilltop is inadequately resourced to take care of a man who’s clearly suffering as you are.”
Concerned about his suffering. Unlikely. Expulsion is what she wanted. If the old man won’t behave, we’ll kick him out.
“Sure you are.”
“Have I ever given you reason to believe that I don’t have the best interests of the residents here at heart?”
He checked that statement. It was difficult since his brain appeared to not actually be working. To his surprise he couldn’t find an example. He knew there were plenty, he just knew it, but for the life of him, he couldn’t recall a single one.
“You’re the warden in this prison, aren’t you?” he concluded lamely.
“Your behaviour, Mr. Monroe, has been erratic, irresponsible and unpredictable. You’ve been having mood swings, and temper tantrums, you’ve been confrontational and uncooperative. These are all bad signs, Mr. Monroe.”
She was right, but wrong at the same time. She was also picking a fine moment to pin him by the collar. His brain was mashed peas.
“Well, how’s this for uncooperative? I’m not talking to your damn psychiatrist.”
“Psychologist, Mr. Monroe, there’s a difference, and the appointment is being made. You can talk or not talk, but your suitability to remain at Hilltop is what’s being assessed here. So you’ll have to decide how talkative you are when they get here.”
“No. I won’t. Because I’m sick to death of being told what to do around here. I’m sick to death of having no say in anything, of being forced to behave the way you think I should just because you think it. I’m more than that.”
