Grace After Henry

by Eithne Shortall

  ‘I forgot one thing.’

  ‘It is not one thing! You always forget to put out the bins; I’m the only person who ever cleans the bathroom. Or the kitchen. If I don’t ask you, it doesn’t get done. I shouldn’t have to ask, Henry! You’re not my child, you’re my boyfriend. We’re supposed to be partners.’

  ‘Okay, Grace, you are blowing this way out of proportion. It’s one thing. It’ll take me five minutes to fix it. Why are you bringing everything else into it? Are you looking for a fight?’

  ‘Of course I’m not looking for a fight! Most of the time, I’m keeping my mouth shut so as not to start a fight!’

  ‘Most of the time?’

  ‘Yes. Pretty much every day there’s something that you say you’ll do but you don’t, or that I really wish you would just know to do but you’re blind to it. Like the fridge. Have you cleaned the fridge once since we lived here?’

  ‘I’m not arguing with you about this.’

  ‘There is black mould on the top shelf.’

  ‘I’m going downstairs to top up the meter and then I’m going to bed.’

  ‘Don’t do that, Henry.’

  ‘Don’t do what?’

  ‘Don’t walk out on an argument. It’s childish and it solves nothing. You’re not the injured party here.’

  ‘I made one mistake!’

  ‘It’s not about the bloody electricity. It’s about everything. It’s okay now it’s just the two of us, but what about when we have kids? What then? Am I going to have to give you a list of chores like you’re a babysitter or something? That’s not a life I want.’

  ‘If I’m so terrible to be around, Grace, then you should probably just break up with me.’

  ‘Oh for God’s sake, Henry, I’m just trying to have a conversation about our future. I want us to be a team.’

  ‘Well, I don’t really feel like I’m on a team right now. So I’m going to go and top up the meter. If that’s okay with you? May I be dismissed?’

  ‘Grow up, Henry.’

  ‘Goodnight, Grace.’

  TWENTY-NINE

  ‘Tell us,’ said Billy.

  ‘We’re here for each other,’ added Patsy. ‘That’s what the group is about.’

  ‘Solidify.’

  ‘He means solidarity.’

  ‘Right,’ agreed Martin. ‘I do.’

  ‘Just tell us.’

  ‘There’s nothing to tell,’ I insisted for what felt like the hundredth time.

  ‘It’s not just your absence,’ said Patsy. ‘Although that has been noticed.’

  The three of them mmm-hmmm-ed.

  ‘Or,’ he continued, ‘that the last time we saw you here, you weren’t even here. You were off wandering in the next section.’

  ‘East Section Three,’ said Billy, narrowing his eyes.

  ‘Enemy territory.’

  ‘They’re not our enemies, Martin. They’re dead!’

  I had come to the cemetery the previous week in search of Frances Clinch’s grave, which I knew from Andy was in the neighbouring section. It was true, though, that other than that visit, I hadn’t been up to see Henry’s grave or the Three Wise Men in over two weeks. I’d been spending all my free time with Andy.

  I’d brought cake from the Portobello Kitchen but it hadn’t distracted attention. The wise men were suspicious.

  ‘And there’s something else,’ said Patsy, getting the group back on track. ‘You’re different.’

  ‘How am I different?’

  ‘You’re happier.’

  ‘I was always happy.’

  ‘No,’ said Martin, wagging his finger. ‘You were always . . .’

  ‘Pleasant,’ offered Billy.

  ‘Yes, pleasant. But now you’re sort of . . .’ Martin searched for the word. ‘Glowing.’

  The other two nodded their agreement.

  ‘This is the first time you’ve ever brought cake,’ said Billy. ‘I mean, you’ve brought restaurant leftovers before, sure. A bit of lasagne or a few slightly stale scones. But cake . . .’

  ‘I resent that. My scones are not stale. And I’m not glowing.’

  ‘Martin thought you were off with a new man . . .’ said Patsy.

  ‘I resent that even more.’

  ‘. . . and Billy thought you’d done yourself in.’

  Billy nodded. ‘I knew you’d turn up eventually. I just thought it might be in a hearse.’

  I sighed and took a step back.

  ‘Ah now, don’t be getting offended,’ said Billy.

  ‘No, it’s just, the smell of your coffee.’ I made a gagging noise.

  ‘Have you stopped seeing Henry everywhere?’

  ‘Not really,’ I mumbled, draining the end of my lukewarm tea. ‘Anyway! Enough about me – what about youse? What have I missed?’

  ‘There’s a new woman gone in beside Ted Brangan.’ Billy motioned towards the far corner of our section.

  ‘That’s good,’ I said. ‘You were saying he’d be getting lonely.’

  ‘And Martin’s been dating.’

  I looked at Martin. ‘Have you really?’

  ‘I have,’ he said, visibly chuffed with himself. ‘I set up a profile on one of them internet sites and they came flocking.’

  I looked to the other two for verification.

  ‘He brought one of them up here last week,’ said Billy.

  ‘What? On a date? To a graveyard?’

  Martin looked hurt. ‘She wanted to know about my hobbies.’

  ‘Of course. Sorry.’

  ‘She didn’t laugh at any of my jokes,’ said Billy, who had clearly not forgiven this slight.

  ‘But she did ask if we did eco-burials,’ added Patsy, equally affronted and making ‘eco-burials’ sound like ‘swingers’ retreats’. ‘She wanted us to put in a composter, for all the old flowers.’

  Martin’s cheeks grew redder. ‘Her name is Larissa. She’s an environmentalist. And a vegan.’

  ‘She sounds great,’ I said. ‘And I think the composter is a wonderful idea.’

  ‘You have to move on sometime, don’t you?’

  ‘You do,’ I agreed, putting my arm around him. ‘You absolutely do.’

  I did consider telling them about Andy. It would have been easier than telling a lot of other people, since they had never actually met Henry and so would be able to look beyond the physical similarities to see how much it meant to me, how much I liked having someone around with such a visceral connection to him. But ultimately it was easier to keep it to ourselves, for another while anyway.

  We stopped going into the city centre. It was too much of a risk. Some man who worked in a chipper was one thing, but what if we ran into someone Henry had actually known? What if we were spotted by a work colleague or an old school friend? What if we bumped into Conor and Isabel? So we stuck to the edges, to the suburbs and the parks, where nobody ever got too close to anybody else. Mainly, we stayed at Aberdeen Street. Andy mentioned Henry’s parents again but I managed to bat it away. After a while, he seemed happy to forget about external factors too. And in the scraps of time he was away from me and not working, I think he continued searching for information. But I didn’t ask about that.

  ‘Do you mind that everyone thinks the Irish are a nation of drinkers?’ he asked one evening as we took a different route through the park.

  ‘Do you mind that everyone thinks the Australians are a nation of racists?’

  ‘That’s really the perception, ay?’

  ‘Well, not just that,’ I reasoned. ‘Also that you have no culture.’

  ‘Awesome.’

  ‘And that you all go surfing.’

  ‘Not true, but not as bad . . .’

  ‘And that you’re all descended from murderers and outlaws who were sent there on prison ships,’ I added pleasantly. ‘Except for the Aborigines, of course. But you exterminated most of them.’

  Andy considered this. ‘Huh. You see, I thought we’d be a fun nation; all crocodile wrestling and didgeridoo
s.’

  ‘Didgeridoo? Was that not Rolf Harris’s instrument?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Rolf Harris who was arrested and jailed for—’

  ‘Yeah, all right,’ he interrupted. ‘Point taken. Mate, now I wish we were the nation of alcoholics.’

  ‘Well, you are that too. Only when you get drunk you start throwing around slurs. Whereas we Irish just,’ I crossed my feet and began to hop on the spot, ‘re-enact Riverdance.’

  ‘That doesn’t look anything like Riverdance.’

  ‘Like I said,’ I called behind as I jigged off through the trees, ‘youse don’t know a thing about culture!’

  It was never not enjoyable. We talked about everything. Less and less about Henry, but I guess that was natural. There was only so much to say. We painted a few rooms and I started teaching him to cook properly. We lounged on the couch and watched boxsets. Nothing we did was special, particularly. It was all just normal stuff. We were watching The Slap, an Australian drama he’d seen before but didn’t mind watching a second time.

  There was a restlessness to Andy and I could feel it surfacing when he talked about the past. But when it was just him and me, sequestered away on Aberdeen Street, it was gone; he was at peace.

  ‘Stop shifting!’

  ‘Sorry,’ I said, pushing my feet flat against the inside of the sofa arm so my toes straightened out. I turned them slightly to the right and pressed down on the baby ones.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Sorry,’ I repeated, irritated. ‘Henry used to pull my toes out straight for me. I can’t get the same stretch on my own.’

  Andy sighed and got up from his seat on the armchair and moved towards the couch. He pulled my legs up and sat under them. He took my left foot in his right hand and pushed the toes straight. ‘There.’

  ‘Ah!’ I said, throwing my head back. ‘Bliss.’

  ‘You’re weird, Grace.’

  ‘Shush now and do the other one.’

  The episode ended and we allowed the next to start automatically. About halfway through Andy got up and headed into the kitchen.

  ‘Tea, please!’ I shouted after him, pausing The Slap. My phone beeped and I dug it out from the side of the couch.

  What is the story?? Are we painting this Saturday?? Are you visiting your aunt again?? ARE YOU ALIVE?? The paint will be growing mould by the time we get around to using it. Your pal (in case you’ve forgotten my name) Aoife

  I started two replies and deleted them both. There was a voicemail but I didn’t want to hear it. I had been avoiding Henry’s parents. They’d invited me to dinner twice and I never responded. The inquest was in two weeks. I stuffed the phone back down the side of the couch.

  Andy plodded back into the room barefooted and handed me a cup that looked like a tea bag had taken a dip in it but decided the water was too hot and hopped straight back out.

  ‘The kitchen’s coming together nicely,’ he said.

  ‘All down to your abilities with a roller. Is there any tea in this tea, or . . .’

  ‘What’s wrong with it?’

  I peered into the cup. ‘I can identify hot water and milk. But traces of the third crucial ingredient are modest.’

  ‘Ha ha.’

  I went to get up to make myself another cup but he took the vessel from me. ‘I’ll do it. You keep watching. I remember this episode anyway.’

  ‘No it’s fine,’ I said, pushing myself up. ‘Honestly. I’ll make it.’

  ‘I’ve got it.’

  I made a swipe for the cup but he held it aloft and headed for the kitchen. ‘Just keep watching.’

  ‘No, Henry, I’ll do it!’

  He stopped at the door. I put my hand over my mouth but it was too late. The word was out and it was echoing back and forth in the space between us.

  ‘Andy. Sorry.’

  He didn’t move. With his back to me, I couldn’t see his face.

  ‘I wasn’t even – I don’t know why I said that.’

  ‘It’s fine.’

  ‘Andy.’

  ‘That’s my name.’

  ‘It just came out. I didn’t even think. I wasn’t even thinking about him, I just, I wasn’t thinking at all.’

  ‘Grace, it’s cool,’ he said, finally turning. ‘It was bound to happen. It would be weird if it didn’t.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Don’t worry about it,’ said Andy and he smiled. ‘It’s all good. Now, I’m going to make the tea.’

  THIRTY

  ‘Ispent a night at my parents’ house. Why is this a big deal?’

  ‘I didn’t know where you were, Henry!’

  ‘You knew I was having dinner there. Where else would I have gone?’

  ‘I thought something had happened on the way home. I woke at five a.m. and you weren’t here. I went to phone you but then I saw you’d left your phone here. Why didn’t you just let me know you were staying over? Text me or something?’

  ‘Because I left my phone here, like you just said.’

  ‘You could have used Isabel’s or Conor’s. Or you could have just picked up the landline and dialled, instead of having me phone your parents’ house at six in the morning. It was embarrassing.’

  ‘You were embarrassed? I’m the one who looks like his girlfriend doesn’t trust him!’

  ‘Don’t do that. It’s not fair and you know it. Why didn’t you just call?’

  ‘Because I’m not a child, Grace! That’s why. And you’re not my keeper. If I want to spend the night at my parents’ I’m allowed.’

  ‘Of course you’re allowed. When have I ever stopped you from going anywhere or doing anything? That is not what it’s about. It’s about having some consideration. It’s about thinking about someone other than yourself. Not calling was just selfish, Henry. You were being selfish.’

  ‘And you are being dramatic. I’m just going to presume it’s because you didn’t have enough sleep. I have to go to work. I’ll talk to you later.’

  The second cup wasn’t much better than the first but I drank every last drop of it. I even smacked my lips a few times.

  ‘Grace,’ he said, back sitting under my legs, ‘you’re trying too hard.’

  ‘What? It’s an excellent cup of tea.’

  ‘Can I have that in writing?’

  Andy really did seem fine. I don’t know why I couldn’t just let it go. I hadn’t even been thinking about Henry – I often didn’t when we were hanging out; sometimes, and I know this sounds impossible, I even forgot the connection – but it had just come out. I had said it out of habit. Henry was the person who I’d spent the most time with, whose name I said the most; my brain was obviously thinking, ‘Well, it’s been a fair while since I’ve put the neurons together to make that sound Hen-ry that she loves so much, this seems like a good time to get it out there, right?’ Wrong.

  I wanted to explain this to Andy but I didn’t think he’d thank me for bringing it up again. We had already moved on. But that didn’t sit right either. How could he be so fine about it? People who grew up as twins in normal circumstances were undoubtedly used to it. But these weren’t normal circumstances.

  I liked being around Andy because it reminded me Henry had existed but it also allowed me to forget he was gone. Did that make sense? I was sick of pitying looks and softly spoken How-are-yous. I didn’t want to be a tragic figure. I just wanted things to be normal, like how they were before. I was less sure what Andy got from it but I knew he was happy so it was fine. I didn’t need to question it. The credits rolled on the second episode and I couldn’t have told you a single thing that had happened. I put the whole incident out of my head.

  ‘Let’s cook,’ said Andy, standing from the couch and holding out a hand to pull me up after him. ‘Well, you cook. I’ll chop.’

  I followed him through to the kitchen and we took our stations. We had established an evening routine where we stood side by side at the worktop and I doled out instructions. Andy had mastered th
e difference between slicing, dicing and chopping, and was now reluctant to proceed with any knife-based task without knowing exactly what size was desired.

  ‘These small enough?’ he asked, halfway through the first red pepper.

  I leaned over. ‘They look good.’

  ‘Garlic?’

  ‘Two cloves,’ I said, pushing the utility knife towards him. ‘That’ll work better.’

  ‘I was seeing a girl once who would string garlic up with twine and hang it all around her house.’

  ‘Interesting.’

  ‘She was into vampires,’ he said, brow furrowed as he tried to get the cloves as fine as possible. ‘She had two dogs and she called them Bella and Jacob, after the Twilight characters.’

  ‘I thought Edward was everyone’s favourite.’

  ‘Yeah, he is, and hers too. But she was such a fan that she didn’t think either dog deserved the name.’

  ‘Wow.’

  ‘Weird, ay?’ He turned to rinse the tomatoes and despite the garlic the smell was overwhelming. His smell. Sweat and aftershave, dirt and dust, and lingering after the faintest whiff of something sweet. It was so close to Henry’s. It took me by surprise and I swallowed it down.

  ‘Look!’ I grabbed two slices of pepper, stuck them either side of my mouth and waited for him to turn back from the sink.

  ‘Did she vont to suck your blood?’

  He watched as my fangs fell to the floor. ‘No, but she did bat her eyelashes.’

  ‘That’s terrible.’

  ‘I apologise,’ he said, grinning now too. ‘I really shouldn’t make jokes about ex-ghoul friends . . .’

  ‘Oh God.’

  ‘It’s nobody’s fault it didn’t work out; sometimes you’re just not their blood type.’

  ‘Stop!’ I shouted, lowering my head to the counter. ‘Do you just have these stored up somewhere?’

  ‘I’m done, I’m done,’ he said, lifting the knife again.

  He returned to slivering the garlic and I took two chicken breasts from the fridge. I upturned them onto the white chopping board.

  Andy sighed and I glanced over at him suspiciously.

  ‘This is what happens when I talk about vampires,’ he said, as if talking to himself. ‘For some reason it always gives people a pain in the neck.’