‘Man, I miss the Dublin humour.’
‘I wouldn’t worry. You probably get plenty in the way of humour at home, comedy actor and all.’ I feel I can say this now that I’ve met Ted, but Alice closes up again, sighing in something approximating agreement.
We enter a Formica-and-check-tile diner where the portions are the size of Volvo hatchbacks. To my surprise, Alice sits down and asks for home fries and pancakes.
‘Where do youputit,’ I say almost to myself, scanning her long, minimalist limbs.
‘Do they still have Charlie’s in Dublin? I used to love that place.’
‘I couldn’t tell you. But you can’t beat a proper dirty Chinese, that much I know.’
‘Dirty, but in a good way, right?’
Are we becoming friends? I’m warming to Alice, while also realizing that she is a roadblock to be gently but decisively pushed to one side. The fact is, she is not right for Ted. They just don’t make any kind of sense as a couple.
I notice a tattoo on the inside of Alice’s wrist. ‘I like that,’ I say. ‘What does it mean?’
‘Just… something I got to remind me of an important moment in my life. It’s Latin. It reads, “It’s later than you think”.’
‘Yeah, cos I thought it said “Charlie’s”, so I’m glad you cleared that up.’
She laughs. ‘Sometimes things happen in life and you need to carry it along with you, and keep it close, like right in your eyeline.’
I think of the elephants etched on my hip. I can’t bring myself to mention them, or talk about what they mean.
‘My theory is, if you’ve had the kind of life moments where you feel you need to commemorate them on your body permanently, you’re probably doing something right,’ Alice adds as I nod mutely.
While we wait for our food, I head to the bathroom. A small fantasy floats into my head as I sit on the toilet, the seat warming under me. The real-life Ted I just met earlier is pretty different to the oversized fairground toy-man that has been living in my imagination, but I can still just about conjure him up.
‘What are we going to do about the Alice thing?’ I’ll ask him.
‘You don’t worry about her,’ he will say. ‘You and I are meant to be together, and once we realize that, everything else is just background noise.’
‘I know, but I really like her,’ I’ll say. ‘I don’t want her to get hurt in all of this.’
‘But I love YOU.’ Ted will cup my face in his oversized hands,making me feel as girly and delicate as a Kewpie doll. ‘This is the right thing. We will find a way through.
‘Love, I mean the love that we have, is rare,’ he’ll continue. ‘I’m not going to let it go for anything, I swear.’ We kiss in a way that makes both of us nearly breathless. ‘Alice will always be OK,’ he’ll say. ‘Girls like that always are.’
When I return back to the table, Alice is scrolling through her iPhone fretfully. Disturbed, she shakes her head softly as if in disbelief. She can’t seem to stop, though.
‘Bad news?’ I ask her.
She puts the phone down decisively. ‘Just… don’t ever get a Twitter account,’ she says softly.
Shit. ‘Oh,’ is all I can say to that.
Alice takes a huge forkful of pancakes as maple syrup escapes and dribbles a little on her lips. She keeps stealing sideways looks at her phone, lost in her own thoughts.
‘Can you believe that people can be this awful?’ she says. ‘To people they’ve never even met?’
‘What are you going to do?’ I ask.
‘Huh.’ A brittle laugh escapes. ‘If I were to do anything, I’d be here until next summer. So nothing.’
Her sadness rips something open in me. ‘Genuinely, fuck them,’ I tell her, pushing the thought that I am part of the problem far from view. ‘That sort of stuff only works when you look at your phone. So put down your phone for now. Avert your eyes. Pretend it’s not even happening. Don’t read it! Then it ceases to exist.’
She nods in a way that says, ‘I wish you were right.’ She takes a swig of her water, laughing sadly.
