‘When you phoned from the hospital that morning and told us Granny died, Dad came upstairs and told me and said he was going to start the car, that we needed to get to you right away. He was outside in the car waiting for me and it was my fault that it took us so long to get back to the hospital. Dad was waiting for me.’ She was looking at me, I could see she remembered and that it was still something that hurt her, the loneliness she must have felt that morning.
‘Why?’ she asked.
‘He was waiting for me because …’ she was still staring at me, ‘because I was in the kitchen. He told me Granny had died and I went downstairs and I went into the kitchen and I started to make a sandwich. It was the only thing I could think to do, I don’t know why. I just needed to make one. I could hear Dad with the engine running outside and I knew he was waiting but I just kept getting everything together to make a sandwich. Dad came into the kitchen and saw me and asked what I was doing. It was like I didn’t even know but I couldn’t stop myself. Dad was asking me how I could be doing something like that at a time like this – he was trying to get me to leave, but I had to keep doing it. He said he’d leave withoutme if I didn’t hurry up; he went outside and left the front door open and I could hear the engine running, but I kept making the sandwich. Then I put it in a bag and took it with me. I didn’t even eat it.’
I couldn’t read the expression on Mum’s face. I felt so stupid and embarrassed.
‘What kind of sandwich?’ she said.
‘What?’
‘What did you put in it?’
As if it was the memory of a surreal dream, I saw myself in the kitchen that morning one year ago; peeling the banana, slicing it, spreading peanut butter on the bread.
‘Peanut butter and banana,’ I said.
‘Your favourite.’
She had a tiny smile on her face. She got up and went into the kitchen. I heard the cutlery drawer open. I heard plates set down. I heard the plastic crackle of the bread packet.
Minutes later, Mum and me were sitting at the table eating a peanut butter and banana sandwich each.
I think it was the best sandwich I’d ever tasted.
Before bed that night, I looked out my window and, once again, up into the night sky. Clouds had formed and I couldn’t see the constellations anymore. But I knew they were there.
23
The new school term came with the excitement of a whole new adventure: Buddy Time with Ronan. But it also came with the dread of exams, revision, career decisions …
‘And remember our driving lessons, Brendan,’ Dad said. ‘We slacked off over Christmas but we need to get back on track.’
Dad had already booked my driving test for the 3rd of July, which was also my birthday.
‘The best way to get focused is to have the test booked; there’ll be no better birthday present than a driving licence,’ he said.
He increased our lessons to three times a week, adding Saturday evenings and Sunday afternoons to the usual Friday evenings.
‘And what about your shifts at Feeney’s, Brendan?’ Mum asked. ‘Do you have to keep those same hours every weekend? You need to be using your weekends for revision.’
January and February were busy months at the funeral home, I’dhaveto keep the same hours; all day Saturday and half day Sunday.
‘Same hours, Mum, but when I get back on Saturdays and have dinner and driving with Dad I’ll do revision that night and then on Sunday I’m going to start early at Feeney’s so I can be back home for lunchtime, have the driving lesson with Dad and then I’ll study in the afternoon and evening.’
‘Goodbye, weekends,’ she said, raising an eyebrow.
‘It’s not as if I had much of a thriving weekend anyway, Mum,’ I said.
For the past three years my weekends consisted of working at Feeney’s, eating dinner at home and watching a rented film from Xtravision on Saturday night. On rare Sundays, when Mr Feeney didn’t need me to work, Dad took me to the big shopping centre. We very rarely bought anything, but always got an ice cream on the way home. I had no friends outside of school to do anything with on weekends, so when Monday came I’d get a buzz of excitement at getting to see Ronan. That had changed, though, especially since Jennifer had been on my mind a lot over Christmas and, as the new term approached, a buzz of excitement was building at the thought of getting to see her again. I wondered if I’d been on her mind, too, and what she’d think if she knew I worked at a funeral home. I enjoyed spending my weekends that way, though, it was a routine I’d become used to. But now that I had exams to study for, driving to do and a friendship to build back …
‘And still no career decisions made?’ Mum said. ‘I’m starting to get concerned about that.’
I couldn’t be the only one in our year who didn’t know what they wanted to do when they grew up. I don’t even remember Ronan having talked much about it.
‘I don’t plan on growing up,’ he said one time. ‘But if I have to then I suppose I’ll end up doing something that doesn’t make me feel like a grown-up at all!’
‘Like what?’ I asked him.
