I watched some bad television and at eleven turned it off.
In bed, I tossed and turned, but for the life of me, I couldn’t recall the face of the paedophile.
Rock me gently
Is there a soundtrack to dreaming? Like, with nightmares, you get heavy metal or Boyzone. As I slept, it seemed like the mellowest of Southern California were playing. I dreamt of my father. As a very young child, I was holding his hand at Eyre Square. A bus passed and I suddenly realised I could spell... I read aloud the ad. On the side...
He was delighted. Not only because it was the first word I spelt but it was his name. A more cynical view is my first word happened to be the Irish whiskey.
But nothing dims the warmth of that moment. I felt completely joined with him. Years, experience, life dented the union so many times, but only superficially.
The phone dragged me up. I couldn’t see the time, mumbled,
“Hello.”
“Jack, it’s Sutton.”
“What time is it?”
“Later than we think.”
“Jeez, Sutton, what is it?”
“I thought you might be suffering, needing a hit.”
“I was sleeping.”
“Yeah, like I believe that. Anyway, while you were away, some kids took to burning winos.”
“What!”
“Yeah, and winos, they’re our brothers under the skin. They’re walking point. Anyway, I’m here with a few like-minded people, and we’re going to nab the kids’ ringleader.”
“To do what?”
“Burn the fucker.”
“Jeez, Sutton.”
“So, wanna come along, play with fire?”
“Are you nuts, that’s vigilantism.”
“It’s justice, man.”
“Sutton, tell me this. Is this you with or without the brakes on?”
He gave a wild laugh, said,
“Got to go, time to fry.”
No return to sleep after that. I paced the floor for a few hours, thought of chewing the wallpaper. Went to the bookcase, selected John Sanford. He’d written twelve in the Prey series and I chanced on this.
Coming down hard. He’d been flying on cocaine for three days. Then, last night coming down, he’d stopped at a liquor store for a bottle of Stolichnaya. There was no smooth landing after a three day toot but the vodka turned a wheels-up-belly-landing into a full crash and burn. Now he’d pay Now he was just gonna have to suck it up.
Enough.
The madness is I then wanted a drink beyond urgency. Not just any drink. Oh no, it would have to be an ice-cold Stoli.
Back to bed. Sleep gave grudgingly and with conditions.
I got the nine o’clock news the next morning. Third item in,
A youth was seriously injured after being set on fire in the early hours of the morning. The incident took place on Eyre Square. Gardaí are anxious to trace four men in connection with the attack. Superintendent Clancy, referring to a suggestion that this was in retaliation for recent fire attacks on homeless men, said:
“Any type of vigilantism or private individuals attempting to enforce the law will be vigorously opposed.”
He then went rambling on in a mini-state-of-the-nation spiel, but I cut him off.
I was in Grogan’s after eleven, and Sean asked anxiously,
“Real coffee or dregs?”
“The best you’ve got.”
It was sad to see how relieved he was to hear that. He returned with a coffee pot and toast, said,
“You’ll need a bit o’ lining.”
I said,
“Sit down, I want to ask you something.”
“Fire away.”
“Bear in mind the person who’s asking you has recently been under... shall we say... restraints.”
He nodded.
“Is it just me or does Sutton seem to have lost it?”
He gave a snort of disgust, said,
“Couldn’t never stand him.”
“Right... but what do you think?”
“I never understood what you saw in him.”
This was like pulling teeth.
“Sean... Sean, OK... I got that, but what do you think?”
“He needs locking up.”
“Thanks, Sean. An unbiased opinion was more than I could have dreamed of.”
Sean was standing now, spluttering,
“I’ll tell you another thing, Jack...” As if I could stop him.
“That fellow’s going straight to hell, and he’ll bring as many as he can with him.”
The said fellow arrived an hour later, said,
“Thought I’d find you here. Sean... a pint before Lent.” He examined me close, said,
“Still sober? I’m impressed. You have... what, a day?”
“Thirteen days.”
“Confinement doesn’t count.”
“Jesus, it does to me.”
Sean brought the drink, plonked it down. Sutton said,
“Cranky oul fucker.”
I said,
“I heard the news.”
“Gave a great bit of heat... for such a small bastard. The best part though, you’ll love this, was his mates crying and shouting, ‘Call the guards.’ Isn’t that priceless?”
“You could have killed him.”
“Well, we gave it our best shot.”
Sutton was beyond wired. As if he’d finally found his calling. He seemed on the verge of giggles. Now he leant close, said,
“It’s all down to you, Jack.”
“Me!”
“You paved the way with that pervert. Not only are they accountable, they’re terminal.”
“Come on, Sutton, can’t you see, it’s madness?”
“Oh, that it is. Glorious lunacy.”
The hand that rocks the cradle
I’d arranged to meet Ann at the Chinese restaurant. I’d left Sutton mumbling to himself. Sean caught me at the door, said,
“I’m taking down his painting.”
“Ah, don’t do that, Sean.”
“He’s hopeless, people want the hurleys back.”
“Sean, leave it for a little while, he’s a bit fragile at the moment.”
“Fragile! That chancer? He’d build a nest in your ear and charge you rent.”
I went into Madden’s and bought six red roses. I have never, never bought flowers in my life. The assistant said,
“Will I make them into a spray or a bouquet?”
“I dunno.”
She laughed, so I said,
“Is there any way you can wrap so...”
“So people won’t see, is that it?”
“It IS.
“Arrah, go on our that. It takes a real man to carry flowers.”
“I’m going to have to take your word for it.”
No matter how I held them, they were blatant. Of course, that’s the day you meet everyone you’ve ever known. All of them comedians:
“Aw, isn’t that sweet.”
“Say it with flowers.”
“You little flower yerself.”
Like that.
I was at the restaurant early and got them under the table — fast. The manageress said,
“Oh, I’ll put them in water.”
“No need... honest.”
When she asked if I’d like a drink, I said,
“A beer... no... I mean... a Coke.”
Sweat was cascading down my body.
Ann looked... gorgeous. There’s no other word. I felt my mouth go dry, my heart pound. Stood up, said as if inspired,
“Ann.”
She gave me a huge hug, then stood back to study, said,
“The beard is lovely.”
“Thanks.”
“You look completely different, it’s not just the beard.”
Not knowing what else to do, I reached for the flowers. Wow, were they a hit!
We sat.
She kept glancing at the flowers then at me. If I had to reach for how I felt, I’d have to admit, shy. Nearly fifty years old and feeling that. She said,