‘But to be amongst those who understand,’ said Mr McCoy, ‘really helps, really does.’
‘And we wanted to say to you, Brendan,’ said Mrs McCoy, ‘if you wanted to come along some Thursday evening you’re more than welcome.’
‘There’s actually a wee fella just started attending, his brother recently suffered an injury,’ said Mr McCoy. ‘He’s a bit younger than you but he has a great head on his shoulders, great wee personality.’
‘Yeah, actually, I think that’d be good,’ I said. ‘It’d be good to have that support, wouldn’t it?’
Mum and Dad nodded.
We sat in the booth talking until all the bowling lanes were empty and the music was turned off and staff began putting chairs up on tables for the floors to be cleaned. If it was a scene from a film then it would be as if the camera shooting it was slowly stepping away from the five people in the red leather booth, moving further and further away watching them as they shared some smiles, said some quiet words. Everything would get smaller and smaller but you’d still be able to see those five people clearly; heads bowing every now and again, hands reaching across to touch the backs of other hands, arms around shoulders and backs being rubbed. Then the camera would be so far back that you could see the whole of the bowling alley; empty. Then those five people, really far away by now, would stand, gather their things and leave together as one. After they’re gone, the camera doesn’t move and stays watching as a staff member comes to the empty booth and clears the glasses and wipes the table clean and goes behind the counter to flip a switch and the lights go out and the scene fades to black.
55
I picked Jennifer up from her auntie’s house. She’d been staying there ever since her parents had decided to go on their weekend break to Prague without her the day after Ronan’s funeral. Jennifer fumed at how blinkered to reality they were at such a time, how insensitive to make a holiday priority over everything, how could they not understand that she needed to be at home because her boyfriend was grieving and might need her support. When Jennifer told them to go to Prague without her and said she’d stay at her Auntie Alice’s for the weekend she didn’t think they’d actually go but they did.
So Jennifer decided to stay on with her Auntie Alice even after her parents got back because she couldn’t face being in the same house with them all summer. Alice was a bit of a rebel in the family apparently and had never seen eye to eye with Jennifer’s mum. It was over halfway through August and Jennifer was showing no signs of changing her mind about going home and Alice, who had no family of her own, was more than happy to have her ‘spirited niece’ living with her for as long as she wanted. Jennifer thought Alice secretly enjoyed having the one-upmanship on her high-achieving sister.
I parked my car at The Stable grounds, a local historic site in town with forested walks. Jennifer and me had been going there a lot after I’d managed to break my housebound isolation.
‘This isolation isn’t good for you, Brendan,’ Mum had said to me a few days after the bowling trip with the McCoys when I’d taken another slump and hadn’t left the house. ‘Take it from someone who has previous experience.’
But it wasn’t isolation I was experiencing, I didn’t feel isolated, I was actually beginning to enjoy company; the company of my mum and dad. I hadn’t felt that before. I think I yearned to feel it, maybe we all did.
‘Don’t worry, Mum, I’m working on it.’
‘That poor girl Jennifer has been calling every single day, she’s worried.’
‘I’m going to phone her tonight.’
‘Good. I know the effort to reach out can feel like the last thing you want to do but you’ll feel better for it.’
‘Bowling; case in point.’
‘Exactly,’ she said with pride.
Mum’s smile; there was a time I thought I’d never see that smile again.
‘Mum, I haven’t said this to you but … how far you’ve come, I just … yeah … it’s good.’
Mum pressed her lips tight together so that they disappeared inside her mouth and let them out again.
‘We struggle to say things in this family, don’t we?’ she said.
‘What things?’ I asked, as if I didn’t know.
‘Things that are OK to say,’ she said.
‘OK.’
‘It’s OK to say them.’
‘I know.’
Her hands came up and she glided towards me and held my face. Then she put her arms around me, and I put mine around her. It wasn’t a tight, confident hug. But it was a hug. We came out of it and smiled at each other.
‘Love you,’ we said at the same time.
Mum’s mouth went down at the corners and her eyebrows raised in an exaggerated expression. I don’t know if my face did the same thing or not but it might have. Surprised at saying out loud the thing I felt, at hearing out loud the thing I needed to hear.
