‘Oh, definitely … no, I wasn’t even thinking about … you know, going back to my house or anything.’
‘I would have, it’s just …’
‘… Ronan’s the priority, we’ll have another time,’ Jennifer said.
‘Yeah,’ I said as the creeping worry rose up in me again.
It was a strange feeling, sometimes it just didn’t seem like all this stuff with Ronan was happening, that life and everything was OK. Then, within a second, a full-body cramp set in as the illusion of normality got vacuumed out and I was back to facing it all again.
‘I’m going to give the hospital another call when I get home.’
And then, only to try to cling on to a little bit of the illusion for a little bit longer, I said:
‘But … can we … for another wee while … just hang here?’
‘My sister said to give her a call when I’m ready for a lift, no time limit, so yes, I totally think we can.’
And we did. We didn’t talk about Ronan, or driving, or waiting for exam results. We didn’t talk about anything that stands out clearly in my mind. All I know is that we laughed a lot. We laughed until tears formed in our eyes and we had to wipe them away with extra napkins and there wasn’t a second of awkward silence between us the whole time. Not one second.
When we left the café and stood outside on the street on the other side of the window to where we had been sitting, we kissed, then hugged just before Jennifer’s sister pulled up and they drove off.
Standing on my own, I looked back through the window of the café to the table Jennifer and me had been sitting at: three empty hot chocolate mugs and three empty tea mugs and a plate scattered with crumbs from a chocolate brownie we’d shared; the remnants of our afternoon. A waitress guided an elderly couple towards the table. She seemed to be apologising for the mess as she cleared it away. The man was using a walking stick and was dressed in tweed. The lady was wearing a light shawl and had pure white hair. The man was taking his jacket off as the lady sat down, turning to the window and staring. I thought she was staring at me, but then she lifted her hand shakily to her head and fixed a strand of loose hair behind her ear, looking at her reflection in the glass. Then her gaze focused differently and she saw me standing on the other side, she looked directly into my eyes and her head went slowly down and she smiled. She smiled so that her features looked like a girl’s. I smiled back and caught my own reflection. There was something about me in the glass, something about how I smiled that made me look so old. She turned away to face the man and I turned away to walk home.
45
‘Well, young fella, are you all set for the mara?’ said Mr Feeney, strolling up to me in his fluffy dressing gown, mug of tea in hand, squinting in the sun as I sat in the back of the hearse polishing the glass. So much had changed since I’d last set eyes on him; exams were over, school was finished, Ronan was in hospital. But Mr Feeney was, and probably always would be, the same. The familiarity of being back to work somehow settled my mind. Or at least it did until Mr Feeney reminded me of my driving test the next day.
‘I’ll have to be, it feels like it’s come round very quick even though I’ve been waiting for it all year,’ I said.
‘Aye, time, funny thing – waits for no man,’ he said. That old phrase coming from a funeral director had a totally different meaning than coming from anyone else. ‘You’ll be glad to get it out of the way and you’ll be scrapin’ those L plates, don’t you worry.’
‘Well, that’s the plan.’
‘A plan you’ll have no bother stickin’ to,’ he said. ‘Tell me, how’s your friend doin’?’
‘Well, he hasn’t gained consciousness, still depending on the machines, so it’s not great, to be honest. Holding out hope, wishing and praying.’
I’d added St Christopher and St Brendan to my nightly prayers alongside St Joseph. The saints and my birthday wish, that’s all I had.
‘Aye well that’s about all you can do that’s within your power,’ said Mr Feeney. ‘A strong wish is a force in itself and never underestimate the power of prayer.’
‘My granny always said that.’
‘Wise woman your granny.’ He took a swig of tea. ‘Have you put much thought into what your career plans are goin’ to be now school’s over?’
I filled my lungs and let the air out on loose lips.
‘Ah,’ said Mr Feeney.
‘Yeah, sorry,’ I said. ‘Just can’t get my head around any of that at the minute.’
‘No, I know, too much goin’ on for you right now. But just to remind you that I was serious when we had that chat that time about you gettin’ into this line of work. But see how things go with your results and all that. You’ve a place here no matter what, whether it’s cleanin’ the vehicles or somethin’ a bit more involved, sure we’ll talk. But not now, not now. Get your test passed the mara, celebrate your birthday and hopefully your wee friend will come round and you can have a great summer together, you’ve earned it, I don’t want you workin’ here every single day of the holidays like you usually do, I want you out enjoyin’ yourself. What are your plans?’
I felt like blowing air out through my lips again but resisted.
‘You know, Mr Feeney, if things go on the way they are I really might need to be here all summer. When I’m here I’m able to switch off my thoughts, not completely, but at least the volume goes down a bit.’
‘Well, I’m glad there’s a therapeutic benefit for you here, Brendan. Wish I could say the same for that useless brother of mine, you nearly need a therapeutic session for yourself after talkin’ to him.’ He snorted. ‘But work isn’t a healthy escape, Brendan. You need to shower that head of yours away from this place every now and then, it’ll do you the power of good, I’m tellin’ you.’
