Last Call

by Kelly, A. S.

  “I hope this is still your favourite.”

  “Always.”

  It’s actually the only dessert I eat. I don’t even know if I really like it, or whether it’s just one of the many memories that I have of this place. Maybe it’s because, until a few months ago, I would never have been allowed to eat this much sugar.

  My mother cuts me a generous slice and pushes the plate towards me. It’s enormous – but why the hell do I care? I don’t have rules or diets to follow anymore, no health programmes, no training. And with a permanently pissed-off teenage daughter, and the fact that, at my age, I’m living with my parents again, no woman will want to come near me, let alone jump into bed with me. Well, into what is, technically, my mother’s bed.

  “You didn’t tell her that you’d be staying here, did you?” my mother asks, sipping at her tea.

  “Not exactly,” I admit sheepishly. “I may have skipped the part where I told her we’d be here while we were waiting for a new place.

  “Do you think you’ll find one soon?” My dad presses, pouring himself two more fingers of whisky and earning himself a glance from my mother that says: if you fall asleep on the sofa again, I’ll leave you there for a week.

  “I hope so.” I throw down the rest of my glass – and the lie I just told.

  “There’s no rush, you know. It’s a big house.”

  “We can’t live with you.”

  “Why not?”

  “Well, firstly, because I’m thirty-eight years old. I moved out twenty years ago. What kind of example would I be for my daughter?”

  “Someone who loves his family?”

  I glance at my father, raising my eyebrow.

  “It’s just nice to have you here,” my mother says, resting her hand on my forearm.

  I smile guiltily at her. I left so long ago, without looking back. I came back home maybe once a year, despite living only a few hours away. I wasn’t exactly in another country – even though, for most people around here, living in Dublin is like living on another continent. But that’s an entirely different issue.

  “How come Rian isn’t here tonight?

  “She works late on Fridays. She’ll be here for dinner tomorrow.”

  Apparently, my eighteen-year-old sister is doing better than me. She has a job, she lives on her own, and she has a raging social life. And she doesn’t give a damn about coming to see her thirty-eight-year-old older brother, who’s come crawling home with his tail between his legs and a teenage daughter in tow.

  I can’t blame her. Rian and I barely know each other. We’re almost strangers – and that is completely my fault.

  I shove the last piece of apple tart into my mouth, staring disappointedly at my empty plate; I’ve polished off my dessert without even realising. When my mother offers me a second slice, I take it, my mind wandering sadly to my hard-earned abs.

  She smiles kindly as she scoops another slice onto my plate. I watch her gratefully; but before this second wave of saturated fats and sugars can plunge into my stomach, someone knocks at the door.

  “Who’s that? It’s so late.” My father gets up to go and check.

  “I’ll do it,” my mother says, stopping him.

  We both glance at her suspiciously.

  “Are you expecting someone?”

  “What? Me? No, of course not.” She paces quickly into the living room, disappearing from our eyesight.

  “You don’t know anything about this, do you?” I ask my father.

  “And I’d like to keep it that way,” he says, sinking the contents of his second glass.

  “Oh, shit! So you weren’t kidding!”

  I turn suddenly at the sound of an all-too-familiar voice.

  “Our little lost lamb has found its way home!”

  “I’d say he’s more of a goat. It gives you a better idea,” my father says from beside me, earning himself a glare.

  “What the hell are you doing here?”

  “Your mother told me you’d come back.”

  “Oh, really? When?”

  “Yesterday morning over breakfast at my mum’s house.”

  My father glances questioningly at her.

  “I don’t owe anyone an explanation,” she says, defending herself. “Anyway, I happened to mention that you were arriving today, so…”

  “You told me he was like a stray dog with nowhere to go. You asked me to come and play with him.”

  I stare incredulously at my mother.

  “I didn’t say it exactly like that…”

  “That was the main gist of it.”

  Tyler steps towards me, his hands on his hips. His expression is hungry: he has the face of someone who can’t wait to get his own back.

  “Good to see you, Kerry.”

  “I wish I could say the same.”

  Tyler laughs. “You never change, you old bastard,” he comments, in my parent’s house: and no one objects. “Come on, come here.” He stretches his arms out, waiting. “Give your buddy a hug.”

  “If I have to.” I reluctantly pull myself to my feet and let myself be hugged. “I still have no idea why he’s here,” I say to my mother as soon as Tyler releases me from his clutches.

  “I thought it might be nice for you to see some of your old friends, to get back in contact with some people around here.”

  “And by ‘old friends’, she just means me,” Tyler says. “You know, the others…”

  I scoff. Let’s just say that I don’t have many fans around here anymore – yet another reason to avoid slinking back. But hey, I have a daughter to raise and a life to put back together. I have to start somewhere, right?

  “Why don’t you two go out, maybe get a drink?” my mother suggests.

  “Why should we?”

  “A little fresh air will do you good.”

  “I don’t think that’s true. I’m pretty tired from the journey, you know…”

  “Three hours in a car?” my dad asks.

  “And then there’s Skylar…”

  “We’ll be here with her.”

  “Do you really think it’s wise for me to leave my daughter on her own on our first night here, just to go to the pub?”

  “I don’t want to be rude, honey, but your daughter told you exactly where to go.”

  “Well, she didn’t say it exactly…”

  “She told us where to go, too – implicitly,” my father adds.

  “Go on, have fun.”

  My mother pushes me towards the living room. I don’t really understand her hurry to get rid of me – I’ve just got here. Didn’t she say she was happy to have me here?

  “Skylar will be fine. And, with a little luck, so will you.”

  “What should I do, then? Shall I go?” I ask my father, who currently seems to be the more rational of the two.

  “You’re no use moping around here.”

  “Come on, Kerry. A few pints in the pub, a quick game of darts,” Tyler encourages. “What could go wrong?”

  “Nothing?” I say, hesitantly.

  “I’ll have him home before midnight,” he says to my parents, almost dragging me towards the front door. I can’t do anything but hope that he’ll stick to his word.

  Niall

  “Is it just me, or does this all seem a little weird to you?” I ask Tyler as we walk towards his car.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You, here, at my house. My mother inviting you over. The two of us.”

  He shrugs indifferently.

  “Come on, Tyler. We haven’t seen each other for…how long?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Exactly!” I throw my arms into the air, exasperated.

  “What’s the problem, Kerry?”

  “We’re not even friends anymore,” I say sincerely.

  “We used to be.”

  “It’s been ten, maybe fifteen years since the last time we did something together.”

  “So what? We grew up together. My house is right ove
r there.” He points down the road that leads to his house, which snakes in the opposite direction to the city centre. “We were classmates, teammates.”

  “Years ago!”

  “What’s changed?”

  “Everything?”

  He leans his arms onto the roof of his car and looks at me. His face hasn’t changed much as all – neither have his mannerisms.

  “I don’t know how it works in big cities, Kerry, but here, things don’t change. Whoever we were fifteen or twenty years ago is exactly who we are now.”

  I’m not convinced.

  “Just relax, okay? You’re home now, with your family. With your oldest friends.”

  “Which friends, Tyler?” I ask with a heavy sigh.

  “Well, start with me. Then we can see how the rest goes.”

  “You know full well that I don’t have a great reputation in this place.”

  “Then let’s change that, mate.”

  When we step foot inside Dom’s, one of the longest-running pubs in town, looking out onto the bay, I realise that I’ve made a huge mistake. Even though no one is staring at me – a fact Tyler has repeated multiple times – I can’t help but feel uncomfortable. He was wrong: I’m not at home, with my oldest friends. To be honest, I’m not the same person anymore. Maybe, for everyone who stayed here, that’s what happened: time stood still. But my life moved on, and I can’t help but feel like an outsider here.

  I sit at a table, hidden from the rest of the pub, and keep my eyes glued firmly to the wooden surface, my cap pulled down over my eyes, as Tyler heads up to the bar to order two pints. I glance quickly around the room, without lifting my head, and realise that everyone is minding their own business, and that they’re all probably too drowsy by this point in the evening to notice yours truly.

  “Relax.” Tyler sits down, sliding a pint across the table towards me. I look at it, and tell myself: why not? You’re not on a diet anymore – the same logic I used with the apple tart. So I grab it and lift it to my lips.

  “To old friends.”

  Tyler lifts his glass and takes a few sips. I throw back a little more, then lean exhaustedly against the backrest of my chair. I start to relax, just as Tyler told me to.

  “So have you really given up everything?”

  “Did my mother tell you that?”

  “No. Your mother told mine that you were going through a bit of a shit time, and that you’re here to sort everything out.”

  “Interesting…”

  “Word around town is that they kicked you out because you slept with the captain’s daughter – a minor.”

  I spit my beer across the table.

  “What?!”

  “Hey, I didn’t start the rumour.”

  “Who the fuck did, then?”

  He shrugs. “Not everyone believed it.”

  “Did you believe it?”

  “Maybe when I first heard it, I thought there might be some truth in it. But looking at you now…”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You can see that you’re not taking it so well.”

  “Wow, aren’t we observant.”

  “There’s another rumour, too, going around the field.”

  “Field?”

  “Sports field.”

  “Oh yeah? What are people saying?”

  “They’re saying you gave up everything for a daughter who fell into your life.”

  I smile sadly.

  “That’s the rumour I liked best.”

  “How come? Don’t you love gossip?”

  “Like I said: I know you.”

  I lift my eyes towards the ceiling and finally take off my cap, ruffling my hair with one hand.

  “You know what else I know?”

  “Let’s hear it…” I challenge him.

  He leans back, taking a sip of his beer, before gesturing towards something over my shoulder. I turn slowly, curious; I recognise her just from the way she brushes the hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear. I start to think that this arsehole might not be all bad, that maybe time really has stood still. That maybe, after everything, something inside me stayed here, even when I left.

  Jordan

  “When I asked if you wanted to go and get a drink, this wasn’t exactly the place I had in mind.”

  “Why? What’s wrong with Dom’s?”

  “Nothing really, but it’s two doors down from my house, and there are only ever two customers – both of which everyone already knows, apart from the occasional lost tourist.”

  “So what?”

  “Weren’t we supposed to celebrating something important?” Anya says, stepping towards me, as if she had a secret to tell; as if she were worried someone might hear us, or as if someone in this tiny city – or even the entire county – might not have already heard about my recent life events.

  “That’s what we’re doing,” I remind her, waggling my empty glass in her direction.

  “This wasn’t what I had in mind.”

  Me neither – even though my idea was distinctly different to hers.

  “Look, we’re here now. Let’s have a look around, scout out the talent. Come on, peel your eyes away from the table and take a look at all the possible candidates.”

  “Do I really have to?”

  “Would you rather I did it for you?”

  I empty my glass and take a deep breath. I know she’ll never give in. I lift my gaze and let my eyes roam around the semi-darkness of the pub. There are the usual locals sitting at the bar: I can’t see any new faces, or anyone under the age of fifty. I shake my head and turn towards the other side of the room. Almost all the tables are full: it’s Friday night and it’s still fairly early – at least, for them. For me, the evening is already starting to dwindle away, probably due to my terrible mood. Or maybe I haven’t drunk enough to help me forget tonight, or the last ten years or my life; or the only man I’ve ever loved, who’s now busy loving someone else.

  Just when I’m about to beg her to give in and let me go home, she elbows me sharply in the ribs.

  “What about him?”

  “Who?”

  “Third table from the left.”

  “Oh, please,” I say, following her instructions. “Tyler Hayes?”

  “Not him – who do you take me for?” she responds in mock outrage. “No, I meant the other guy.”

  I glance back at the table just as he takes off his cap and runs his fingers through his hair. Tyler says something to him and gestures vaguely in our direction. I quickly tear my eyes away before he can see me staring at him, feigning nonchalance as I tuck my hair behind my ear.

  “Do we know him?” Anya asks immediately. Never one to be discreet, she continues to gawk at him.

  “I don’t know. I didn’t get a proper look at his face.”

  “You could get a proper look now.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “He’s not looking this way anymore.”

  I trust her, allowing my eyes to flicker in his direction. Tyler’s gaze is still fixed on us, but the stranger has turned his back. From this distance, I don’t recognise his shoulders.

  “No idea.”

  “Well, that’s better, right?”

  “Better for what?” I turn to Anya.

  “You need a handsome stranger.”

  “Do you really think I can do it?”

  “Is that not why we came out tonight?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “You promised.”

  I scoff. “I’m not going home with a total stranger.”

  “No, of course not. So go over there, introduce yourself, get chatting for…I don’t know, fifteen minutes. Then you won’t be strangers anymore and you can move on to the next step.”

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  “I’m dead serious.” And her expression really is. “We’re not leaving here together, you know. You’re going to walk out of this pub arm-in-arm with someone of the opposite sex.”


  “Anya…”

  “You are not going home alone.”

  I take a deep breath.

  “Not tonight,” she adds, her voice a little less decisive, uncertain. She just seems concerned for me.

  I place my hands on the table and get to my feet.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I need something strong if I’m going to go through with this.”

  “Really?” Her face lights up – and, admittedly, mine lights up a little, too.

  I nod.

  “In that case…” She empties her glass, displaying it proudly to me. “I’ll have another one, too. I need to be alert so that I can help you out.”

  “Alert?” I ask her, amused, before leaving the table and heading for the bar.

  I bustle through a group of people waiting for their drinks and lean against a free bar stool, waiting to be served. I don’t even attempt sitting down: my dress is way too tight and short. I could never get down without flashing everyone in the pub.

  “What can I get you?” the barman asks, drumming his fingers against the surface to hurry me along.

  “Two more of those pink things…” I say, waving my hands around in a strange circle which means absolutely nothing. He looks at me, waiting.

  “The one with the blackberries.” I try to explain myself a little better, but he doesn’t want to cooperate.

  “I think you mean a Gordon’s,” a voice says to my right.

  I turn towards it.

  “The pink one, obviously.” He flashes one of those smiles at me that says: I’m already undressing you, and you don’t even know it yet.

  The barman grabs a bottle from behind him and shows it to my saviour.

  “Exactly,” he says, satisfied. “And don’t forget the blackberries – right?” He winks at me, and I feel a blush creep from my toes to my scalp.

  The barman turns away to make my drinks, and the man steps closer to me, his pantie-melting smile beginning to take hold on my body. It’s a feeling I know pretty well; something I was immune to throughout my teenage years, and through a large part of my adult life. But apparently, it works an absolute charm on the desperate, orgasm-less woman I’ve become.