Authors: Alex Coleman
“Hey there,” said the Tom Cruise look-alike who served me. “What can I get you?
”
“Two lattes, please,” I said
.
“What size would you like?” he asked, and then said some words I’d never heard before
.
I
stared
at
him
for
a
moment
and
then
said,
“Medium- ish”,
hoping
that
would
be
the
end
of
the
conversation.
It was.
After
I’d
paid
and
collected
the
drinks,
I
lowered
myself onto
a
free
sofa
with
clear
view
of
the
door.
No
sooner
had
I placed
the
mugs
on
the
magazine-littered
table
than
Tony appeared
in
the
doorway,
looking
like
a
man
who’d
lost something
valuable
and
was
slowly
retracing
his
steps.
I raised
my
chin
–
as
if
that
would
make
me
more
visible
–
and
he
came
over,
doing
his
best
to
smile. “Latte,
as
requested,”
I
said
.
He sat beside me – not close, but not as far away as he could have – and said, “Thanks.” There was a slight sheen on his face. I guessed that he’d been splashing water on himself. It was either that or sweat – either way, it spoke of nerves that needed to be calmed
.
“Don’t panic,” I said. “You’re not going to regret talking to me.
”
“You look great,” he said, too quickly. “Your hair is … different.
”
“It sure is,” I said, raking my fingers through it. “You look great too.
”
That wasn’t exactly true. He looked the way he’d always looked, even when Jonathon had been well – tired and run- down. And balding. And long-nosed. And pale.
My
former lover
, I thought and marvelled at my own existence
.
“How’s the family?” he asked and I saw him gulp. “Fine. They’re fine. How’s Jonathon?
”
“He’s fine too. Shooting up. Getting on well at school, playing a lot of football.
”
“Is he still mad about cars?
”
“Oh, yeah. I think he always will be.” “And how’s his health? I’m dying to know.
”
The word “dying” had been poorly-chosen. Tony didn’t seem to notice
.
“Good, good. Not a bother on him.” “That’s fantastic,” I said. “I’m delighted.” We smiled at each other, briefly
.
Then Tony turned business-like. “I don’t mean to be rude,” he said, “but I’m really under pressure. You said you had two questions?
”
I was a little taken aback. We hadn’t even done the “How’s work?” bit. He really didn’t want to be there. That was fair enough, I thought. I could only imagine how I would have reacted if he’d shown up at First Premier
.
“Okay,” I said. “If we had time, I’d lead into this more gently. But since we haven’t …
”
He went for his coffee and took a fortifying mouthful, as if it was brandy. “Yes?
”
“Don’t get alarmed now.” “What is it?
”
“I don’t want you to have a fit or run off in –” “Jackie. What is it?
”
“I want to ask your permission. To tell Gerry. About us.” He sucked air through his nose. His fingers went rigid
.
“Are you nuts?” he whispered, leaning in. “No. No! Absolutely not. No way. No.
”
“Why not?
”
“Why
not
? Because he’ll fucking kill me, that’s why not. Have you seen the size of him?
”
“He won’t kill you, Tony. I promise.” “Oh, you
promise
, oh, well then!
”
“I know he won’t kill you because he’s in no position to. He’s just done it himself. Been unfaithful.
”
This seemed to have an effect. The panic-stricken look slid off his face for a second – but then reappeared, good as new
.
“That’s awful,” he said, still whispering. “I’m sorry for you, I really am. But the answer’s still no.
Why
, for God’s sake? Why would you want to tell him?
”
I told the truth. “I’m going to be having a long and serious talk with him and I want it to be 100 per cent honest. This has to be part of it.
”
“No, Jackie. No, it doesn’t. You can be as honest as you want about anything else, but not that. It’s not
necessary
. What’s done is done. Leave it alone. I’m with someone now –
”
“Oh! I’m glad.
”
“– and I don’t want anything to interfere with that.” “What’s her name?
”
“Patricia.
”
“And how did you two meet?
”
“Why do you … Wine-appreciation. I’m doing a wine-
appreciation course.
”
“Really? I know someone in Dublin who got fixed up doing a cookery course. The two things seem to go together.
”
His nostrils flared. “I really don’t have time for this. You can’t tell Gerry. Absolutely not. Now what’s your other question?
”
I realised then that he wasn’t just panicked; he was angry. Maybe I reminded him of bad times with Jonathon. Or maybe he regretted that afternoon as much as I did. Either way, his past had come calling and he didn’t like it one little bit. I tried not to let his reaction annoy me. “Okay, Tony. Okay. When you and I … I never know what to call it. What do you call it, in your head?
”
“Sex,” he said bluntly. “We had sex. Once.
”
I took a little sip of coffee to give my mouth something to do. “When you and I had sex, once, I was all over the place. Mentally. I’ve been wondering how … Well. I’ve been … My second question, Tony, is this: with you and me … who started it?
”
His
mouth
fell
open.
“You
drove
from
Dublin
to
ask
me
that
?”
“Yes. That and the other one.
”
“Have you lost your memory or something?” “No. I want to hear your version of events.
”
“
Version
of
events
, Jesus!” He leaned closer still. “What are you getting at? Are you accusing me –
”
“I’m not accusing you of anything, Tony,” I cut in before he gathered further steam. “The whole thing was entirely consensual. I just want to know who started it, that’s all.
”
He pouted like a four-year-old. “I don’t understand what difference it could possibly –
”
“Tony, please, it –
”
“
I
did,
all
right?
I
started
it.
Is
that
what
you
wanted
to
hear?”
I’d
thought
it
was,
actually.
I’d
thought
I
wanted
confirmation
that
he’d
started
it
with
me,
just
as
Lisa
had started
it
with
Gerry.
I’d
thought
it
would
make
me
feel better.
But
now
I
realised
in
an
instant
that
it
didn’t
matter who
had started it. I’d
gone along with it. I
was every bit as
guilty
as
I’d
always
imagined
I
was
.
Tony glared at me, awaiting my response. “Well?
”
“It turns out,” I said slowly, as if chewing the words, “that it doesn’t matter.
”
This statement was too much for him. He stood up and straightened his jacket. “I have to go now,” he said. “It was nice to see you again.
”
I smiled up at him. “I have a niggling feeling that you don’t mean that.
”
“Goodbye, Jackie.” He took a step towards the door. “Tony?
”
He stopped and turned. “What is it now?
”
“They weren’t really two questions. The second one was a question. The first one was … a courtesy. I’m telling Gerry.
”
He fumed at me in silence for a few seconds then stormed off, muttering something. I didn’t quite catch it, which was probably for the best
.
I watched him go past the shop window and turned my attention back to my drink. Piercings and all aside, they did a very nice latte
.
CHAPTER
29
I took
my
time
on
the
way
back
to
Dublin,
stopping
in Athlone
for
a
late
lunch.
While
I
was
there,
I
made
two additional
calls.
The
first
was
at
a
newsagent,
where
I
bought my
final
packet
of
cigarettes.
I
performed
the
same
ritual that
I’d
used
the
last
time
I’d
quit
forever.
Standing
over
a rubbish
bin,
I
gave
a
little
speech,
telling
the
fags
that
we’d had
some
good
times,
but
it
was
over
between
us;
it
wasn’t them,
it
was
me.
Then
I
dropped
them,
unopened,
in
among the
chocolate
wrappers
and
apple
cores.
My
second
stop
was at
Dunnes Stores.
I spent
longer in there
than I
meant to
but
was
happy
with
my
small
purchase
.
According
to
the
clock
in
the
car,
it
was
five
precisely when
I
turned
off
the
engine
in
the
First
Premier
car
park.
I rang
Eddie
on
his
mobile
and
asked
him
to
come
down
and
meet
me.
He
said
he
wasn’t
sure,
he
had
a
lot
of
data
to
enter. I
didn’t
realise
that
he
was
joking;
he
had
to
tell
me.
Five minutes
later,
he
appeared,
looking
slightly
nervous.
I
waved to him from the
bonnet of the
car, where I had
taken a seat. “Hello,
Jackie,”
he
said,
sitting
down
next
to
me.
“Sorry
–
do
you
mind?
”