‘Thomas, listen now. Life is full of blessings and opportunity, you know? You deserve a chance. This is your chance.’
Oh dear God, when he calls me Thomas. My chest rises up, as though my heart and my lungs are lining up to leave my body. I believe everything he says. Of course I believe him. After all, wasn’t he a blessing that came to me? He keeps trying.
‘Life keeps giving, if you’re taking.’
What I wouldn’t give to just say yes. To be irresponsible, to let things happen, whatever they may be. Life will give if I take. Do I want to be happy or not? It all comes down on top of me. Each of the dark clouds surrounds me. Their silver linings cut me open. It’s getting hot. I’m getting hot. Hopefully it’s dark enough that he won’t see I am biting back tears.
‘I have a lot of responsibilities here, Bill. The family, you know, we only have each other.’
What I want to tell him is that I can’t manage anymore. That I wantto go to New York so that I can stop carrying the burden of being the eldest son. So that I can stop being an O’Leary. So that, perhaps, I could leave your memory on the dock, along with my whole life and everything I’ve ever done, and become completely new. I don’t know whether it’s the beer or that I love him so dearly, but I feel I could tell him all this. I wonder if he can hear my feelings boiling within me?
‘What does Betty make of Anna?’ I ask him. ‘Be honest.’
It isn’t what he expected to hear. To be honest, it isn’t what I expected to ask. But now it’s out there, I feel it’s worth knowing. If I am going to leave, I need to know there are people here who will look after my siblings. Bill pulls on his collar, uncomfortable, and takes a long drink from his bottle.
‘To be honest? Betty isn’t mad on her, to be honest. I think “intense” was the word she used.’
I laugh, hoping it doesn’t sound like despair. Poor Anna never chooses the right person. Bill goes on.
‘Of course, I’ve nothing against her. She’s a lovely girl. And it isn’t that Betty doesn’t like her! Just that they mightn’t be very suited to each other.’
He is trying to cover his tracks. It’s fine. I understand. Anna is an awful lot to manage, especially without the benefit of having grown up with her. I knew Anna when she was a sweet, gentle child. Betty has only ever known her after years of disaster. Really, we know two very different people.
Anna has always been the type to have fixations. I’ve watched over the years as her boundaries waned away to nothing. ’Tis easy enough for me to see her behaviour as passionate. ’Tis easy enough for Betty to receive it as escalated, unpredictable and unwanted.
‘It’s fine, Bill. I know she’s a lot to handle. It’s hard on her since our mother died.’
‘It’s been hard on ye all, I’d say, since yer poor mother died. God bless her and save her.’
He puts a hand on my shoulder, and I remember lies I had forgotten. It comes as a stab to the chest when I realise that Bill doesn’t know the real me. He doesn’t even know when my mother died. Inwardly, I wish there was a woman here, so that I could be hugged.
This isn’t how I felt at the beginning of the night, in the house. When I was proud and warmed by all of our friends, and all I have achieved. I am suddenly sobered by the realisation that there is so much I haven’t achieved. So much trouble that I have left to brew, and which is now boiling over on us all. And suddenly, a way out. Bill’s offer. It’s a siren, screaming.
I want Bill to take me in his arms now. I want him to take it all away. To take me down to his field and put a shovel in my hand and tell me it’s all finished. To send me on the boat to America and tell me he will sort out everything here. I am exhausted. I want him to tell me I don’t need to be a big brother to them anymore. To tell me I am forgiven, and that nobody is cross.
He brings me back inside. At the door, he pauses, just for a moment. He goes to say something, but stops himself, putting a hand on the back of my neck and squeezing. For a moment, everything is still. I fear this delicate moment is the last true stillness I will ever know.
Anna
TRYING TO REMAIN PERIPHERAL, Ilisten to Betty as she spills out a story to the two men, something about her aunty being interviewed by RTÉ once. How humiliating, to have nobody to talk to, at a party in my own home; having to pretend that I am deep in thought, worried we are running out of beer or planning when to bring out the birthday cake so that I don’t get caught eavesdropping on my guests. I suppose you wouldn’t know what this is like.
Betty looks over her shoulder, perfect chin grazing the perfect collar of her perfect blouse. And she jumps back when she sees me. Like I am a big spider on the floor, about to run up her leg. Like I’m something she needs to be afraid of.
‘Betty, are you having a nice evening?’
I ask, as though I’m surprised to see her, too. A lost, strained sort of laugh fills a space that she doesn’t otherwise know how to fill. She cannot bring herself to talk to me. A fist to my gut.
‘Lovely, thanks.’
She finally manages, flustered, her shoulders up around her ears. I know better than to stand here any longer.
As I turn to go, I find Jack in my eyeline again, pouring himself like a glaze over Teresa Doyle. He has a real talent for trapping women.
I wonder if he has told Teresa about you. I wonder if I should; orshould I fall into the new regime, where you are no longer a person we miss, but a shrieking secret we pretend not to hear? Shame-tinted. Love-tinted. Your memory has morphed beyond you. Yes, I might tell Teresa about you. She deserves to have the full picture before entangling herself in Jack. Even if it would make me look mad. For years, I have been a woman among men; I’m used to looking a little bit mad.
Jack over there in the corner, edging ever closer to a new future with a new woman. Tipping over the limits of this life and starting something fresh, allowing himself to move on. Tom through the window, his eyes growing as he listens to Bill, finally with somebody who understands him and wants him. Even Peggy, dancing around the room with the other children. And me, an abyss within me that nobody can fill. A longing that cannot be satisfied. All I want is for Betty to hold on to me. Is that so much to ask?
I feel I might as well not be at my own brother’s birthday party, because nobody seems to notice me. I should have stayed in the bedroom.
