“Is that your boss?” I hear Marnie ask with more than a little disdain. “I thought you were the boss.” The disappointment in her voice makes me smile.
Michaél just grins, drops her over some complimentary peanuts and starts loading glasses in the dishwasher.
I discreetly remove the plaque from the wall near the cash register and put it on one of the lower shelves. Standing up again I turn to him. “Eh, Michaél, Sheena was asking if you’d be playing tonight — they’re down a bodhrán player.” For once there’s no tension or bitterness in my voice and it feels so good not to think of him as my enemy.
“Sure, if you and Barry are okay with the bar. It might get pretty busy, ye know.”
“It’s grand; I’ve got Sharon coming in a bit later to help out. And, anyway, if it gets too hectic, I’ll call on ye.” That sentence is out before I have time to stop it. It’s so obvious how much I’ve come to rely on him already. I’ve really painted myself into a corner here.
I catch the eye of a punter and almost race down the other end of the bar to take his order. When I glance back at Michaél, he’s chatting to Marnie again, who’s sipping her drink through a straw and staring at him coquettishly.
“What can I get ye?” I ask the guy waving a twenty dollar bill at me. If Michaél wants to flirt with Marnie, he can flirt with Marnie. He can fuck her brains out for all I care! I give a million-dollar smile to the customer.
“Three pints of Guinness and whatever you’re having yourself.”
Five minutes later I drop his drinks over to him. “You’re a gentleman and a scholar,” I say taking his money.
He winks at me. He’s cute, a little older than I am, and wearing a suit. In days gone by, pre Margaret’s illness, I’d have returned the wink and sent him and his friend a drink or two on the house. Then it would have been a roll in the hay, either in the office or up in the apartment. We’d have hung out for a couple of weeks, gone on a few dates, had some fun — nothing serious. But now I just thank him and put the tip he’s given me in the communal tip jar. I shake my head at myself. What has gotten into me?
“Everyone’s sorted, Erin, so I’ll head over to play for a bit.” Michaél is standing right behind me, and his closeness turns me to jelly.
“No prob. I got this.” I don’t even turn to look at him. Instead I fold and refold the bar towel I’m holding and start polishing the already immaculate bar surface. He squeezes past me, touching my upper arm as he goes by. I pretend not to notice.
Marnie slides down off her stool and follows him over to the booth where the musicians like to play. I scowl after her.
“Ohh boy, you have got it bad!” says Barry, coming round to my side of the bar.
“I don’t know what you mean.” I keep rubbing at an imaginary stain on the bar.
“Bodhrán boy.”
“Who?”
Barry laughs. “Michaél, of course! As if ye didn’t know. It’s like watching two strange birds of prey do some queer mating dance or something. Ye like him and he likes you. Get on with it, why don’t ye!”
“I really don’t know what you’re talking about. The situation with Michaél is all business, and pretty complicated at that.”
“Okay, okay. There’s still a bit of the dance to play out, is there? Well, don’t leave it too long. The girls here really go for the Irish accent. It’s like shooting fish in a barrel, being a straight man here, Erin. Don’t say I didn’t warn ye…” And with that he walks off to serve a young cute guy in a tight button-down shirt.
The music has started up now, and the bar is hoppin’. Michaél’s broad shoulders catch my eye as he leans in to his drum as though listening to its response to his beating. My mind wanders. I like him. I really do. But what can I do? There’s so much history between us now, and none of it very romantic.
Marnie is also gazing at him, smiling sweetly in his direction lest he lift his eyes from the drum. The song ends and she claps and wolf whistles loudly. Michaél laughs at her. I do too, but maybe not for the same reason.
“Remember what I said,” Barry says out of the corner of his mouth like a ventriloquist.
He’s right and I know it. I pull a pint and am just about to take it over to Michaél so that we can have a chat when a huge party of bachelorettes arrive and I spend the next few hours being rushed off my feet. I barely manage to clap eyes on Michaél for the rest of the night.
It’s been a great night but a long one and I’m beat by the time I turn off the lights and head upstairs. I don’t know where Michaél is but he has his own key, so I don’t have to wait for him. A noise makes me pause half way up the stairs. I hear someone giggle and then his voice. “I’ve called a taxi; it’s on its way.” More giggling. “A cab, then. I’ve called a cab. Jaysus!” Even more giggling, followed by a high pitched scream, like the kind of one you give when someone pinches you playfully, or grabs you round the waist, or…
Enough, Erin! Bed! I climb the stairs wearily.
Falling asleep after a good night at the bar is difficult at the best of times, but tonight it’s worse. I keep imaging that I hear Michaél’s key in the lock, but it’s only my imagination. I look at the clock radio; it’s 5:12 a.m. Can I really have been awake all this time? I must have been sleeping and not even realized it. I hate that feeling. I have to get up in an hour, and I feel as though I haven’t slept at all. Right. One more hour. Get your head down, Erin.
The inevitable happens; I get it into my head that I have to go to the loo, and the feeling won’t go away. Reluctantly, I get up and without turning on any lights because then I’ll truly be awake, I pad down the hall to the bathroom. Opening the door, I’m surprised find that the light over the mirror is on. I look up to find Michaél standing there in all his glory, dripping wet. My eyes lock onto his manhood, which is standing to attention, bold and erect.
Covering my eyes, I let out a little scream. “Jaysus, Michaél, put it away!”
He grabs a towel and covers himself up. “Jaysus, Erin, ever think of knocking?”
“I didn’t think you were home,” I say backing out of the bathroom, my hand still over my eyes.
“Mick?” comes a female voice from his room.
I recognize that voice; it’s Marnie!
“Sorry,” I mumble and am back in my room with the door shut before he can say anything. I scramble into bed and pull the covers up tight to my chin. My insides are churning and there’s a tightness in my chest. I waited too long. I’ve lost him to another girl.
“Erin?” his voice is muffled through the door.
I don’t answer. I don’t trust myself to.
“Erin?”
I hold my breath and listen. Then I hear Marnie’s muffled voice and Michaél’s fading response as he goes to her.
The tears come quietly. They spill down my cheeks and onto my pillow as Barry’s warning echoes in my mind.
“Stupid, stupid, stupid!” I chastize myself.
My mind buzzes for the next couple of hours until I finally give in to the fact that I am not going to get any more rest tonight. At 7:30 I creep down the hall and into the kitchen to make a much needed coffee. I turn on the machine and wait for the water to warm up. The buzzing in my head has become a dull hum made up of one single refrain: I pushed him into her arms.
Taking my coffee, I cross to the sitting room in search of my laptop. My plan is to drown myself in emails and business tasks that I’ve been neglecting lately, but I almost jump out of my skin when I see a body under one of my grandmother’s old quilts on the couch. The head is obscured and so I have to circle it a few times to try to get a good visual. Orpheus is snuggled at the feet, snoring loudly. I reach my finger in and very carefully pull back the cover just a smidgen.