“I did okay, didn’t I? We learned the footwork. I learned how to do the… the hold.”
“What’s your point, buddy?”
“Just that.” He stands back and picks up the camera again. Through the window, a cloud passes and the sun hits one side of her face hard, throws the other in shadow. “Just that I’m very lucky, Susie Q,” he mumbles to himself.
This is real life, she thinks. It’s loving the right person at the wrong time, it’s incompatibility and doubt. It’s the constant condition of misunderstanding, and the thousand ways people will prove you wrong.
2012
Sebastian
Any requests?
It’s gonna be good vibes
He had texted last night, with a link to a playlist he had called Mom. Good vibes, what else could anyone want for a celebration of their death?
Viola
snacks
Sebastian
anything in particular
Viola
Cheez-Its?
I would kill for a Cheez-It.
Viola passes into Niamh’s small kitchen, puts on the kettle, and leans over to feel the steam rising against her face, opening up her skin. The kettle burbles loudly and clicks, and she can hear Niamh stirring from her bedroom.
“Tea?” she calls.
“Yes, dear,” Viola says. Milky for Viola, green with sugar for Niamh.
“Love you,” Niamh calls.
Viola cracks open the door, holding the tea warm in her hands.Niamh’s room has a sweet, sleepy smell, and her clothes are strewn across the floor. Niamh gestures to the bedside table, where Viola places the mug, and puts her head in her lap. “I feel like shit,” she says.
“You smoked a lot.”
Niamh nods. “I accept the consequences of my actions.”
“It’s snowing outside,” Viola says.
Niamh gasps. “No. Why didn’t you say?” It’s much too early in the season for snow, but in an hour, after the tea and the cold shower have taken effect and clothes are bundled on, they catch a bus across town and walk, following the Liffey east to the sea until they reach a marina, a fleet of tall sailboats pointing stiff masts to the sky, thin white steeples. Flakes fall cozy and close. They share a set of headphones and Niamh sings along to Nina Simone, her voice low and strong, and Viola has the sense of being carried. They walk past old women dragging their shopping through the mounting snow, past abandoned plazas with weeds pulling up between heavy cement tiles. They walk until they come to a damp beach, surprisingly empty for its proximity to the city center. Viola thinks of the sand buried underneath the powder, of the cold blue.
Sebastian
Tillie has made snacks her thing
Borderline out of control
I’ll tell her about the Cheez-Its
but you should be prepared to eat a million Cheez-Its
