The Time of My Life

  ‘You already did that.’

  ‘But Blake has invited me out, the whole reason we’re here. Can’t you at least be happy for me?’

  He thought about it. ‘You’re right. I’m very happy for you. Ever since Sunday night this has been exactly what you wanted so you stay here and sell yourself out to Blake, the man who broke your heart, and I’ll go back to Dublin to meet Don, the nice guy you just slept with, who invited me out for a drink.’

  ‘Why don’t you two just do it and get it over with,’ I snapped.

  ‘That’s very mature,’ he said calmly, ‘but again, you already took care of that. Me? I’m just interested in the friendship. We’re meeting in the Barge at eight tonight so that’s where I’ll be if Mr Theologian decides to leave you hanging while he goes in search of greener pastures again.’

  ‘You don’t believe in us,’ I said sadly.

  ‘That’s not true. I don’t believe in him, but who am I to stop you?’ He thought about it. ‘Oh, yeah, I’m your life. Do you think most people in a personal crisis would listen to their life or do they do as you do, drag them around from county to county searching for geological happiness?’

  ‘What does that shit even mean? Geological happiness?’

  ‘Most people look for fulfilment and happiness within themselves; you, on the other hand, physically move to another county thinking it will help things.’

  ‘That woman ate and loved and prayed herself through three continents and she got happy,’ I snapped then I sighed, calmed down. ‘I just want you to see what I love about him.’

  ‘I’ve seen what you love about him, all strapped up in a very tight harness.’

  ‘Seriously, please, for once.’

  ‘Seriously? I’ve seen what you love about him and I’m meeting Don for a drink.’

  I wanted to try one more time. ‘I just think that there are issues between you and him that I don’t entirely understand. He hurt you, I can see that, he tore you down and now you’re trying to protect yourself but at least give it a chance. If you don’t, you’ll be forever wondering was he the one that was supposed to bring me eternal happiness and in turn, bring you eternal happiness?’

  ‘I don’t believe in eternal happiness, just occasional spurts.’ But he’d softened.

  ‘I know you don’t want to let Don down but it’s just a pint. He’s a grown-up, he’ll understand.’ He looked slightly persuaded but just to be sure I added the final nail in the coffin. ‘Plus Sebastian is lying in a ditch and God knows how long it will take to fix him so there’s no other way to get home.’

  ‘Okay,’ he said, resigned to his fate. ‘I’ll stay. I’ll call Don, but that’ll be it. He knows where I am and he’ll think I’ve chosen Blake over him and he’ll never want to see me again.’

  I patted him in sympathy.

  He lay there and we both stared out the window in the roof at the passing clouds in the perfectly blue sky. And then the doors burst open and Declan stood at the end of the van and paraded his parts from the lost bet, and they were considerably bald.

  The bodhrán is an Irish frame drum with a goatskin head and the other side open so a hand can hold the drum and control the pitch and the timbre while the other hand pounds it with a cipín. The Bodhrán in this instance was a pub five minutes away from the B&B, which even at seven p.m. was heaving, and inside was a live session of traditional Irish music. We had arrived late because Declan had broken out in a rash in his nether regions which was so itchy he insisted on driving twenty minutes out of our way to the nearest pharmacy to buy a lotion and some talcum powder; he tipped the latter into the top of his trousers and then gyrated his hips in all kinds of directions to make sure it hit the right areas.

  Harry, winner of the bet, should have been happy with his friend’s new-shorn issues, but was instead annoyed because he was meeting the girl who wanted to have Blake’s babies and he was afraid that someone else would get there first. I laughed at his immature impatience at thinking that being just twenty minutes late would ruin his chances, but then I thought of Jenna and I joined in on bullying Declan to put his foot down and show Wexford what his mum’s camper van was made of. Harry’s irritation had rubbed off on me, which in turn had rubbed off on my life who was none too pleased with having to break his date with Don. His own disgusting rash had returned and he and Declan were taking it in turns passing the powder back and forth while Annie and I were taking turns passing the cider back and forth. Josh was lying down in the back smoking hash and blowing smoke rings. I hadn’t drunk cider since I was their age but it was thrilling spending time with them and it had given me a new lease of life, though it had given Life a rash. I think it was that for the first time in a very long time, I didn’t have to worry about stumbling upon a lie I had told. They didn’t know anything about me, they didn’t care, and I could be myself. I hadn’t been myself for a long time.

  When we arrived at the pub, it was still a beautiful summer evening and the wooden tables and benches outside were crowded. I quickly scanned the place for Blake; Harry quickly scanned it for the girl he wanted to have his babies and surmised that they were inside. He took the lead, I followed. He needn’t have worried, because she had kept a free seat beside her; her friend thumped her leg when she saw us and despite the dead leg as a warning, the girl lit up when she saw him. I looked around the packed tables for Blake. The band were singing ‘I’ll Tell My Ma’, and everyone was whooping and cheering and I pushed my way through the moving bodies to find him. I saw Jenna sitting at the table beside Harry and his love and there was an empty seat beside her. My heart pounded, hoping it hadn’t been for him, even though I knew they weren’t together. It was just … habit. My eyes found him at the bar surrounded by a gang of guys, telling a joke, centre of attention as usual. It was word-perfect, he had them all captivated, I watched him, Life watched him, then he got to the punchline and everybody exploded in laughter. I did, Life did too. I felt like pushing my face into his and saying, See?

  Blake saw me then and excused himself and rushed towards me. Jenna watched us.

  ‘Hey, you came,’ he said, wrapping his arms around me and kissing the top of my head again.

  ‘Of course I did,’ I beamed, not wanting to look at Jenna but hoping she’d seen it all. ‘You remember my life,’ I said, moving aside so they could be face to face.

  ‘Yeah, sure,’ Blake said.

  ‘Hey,’ Life said casually. ‘I realise this must be very weird for you,’ he said, surprising me with his maturity, ‘so let me buy you a drink.’

  Blake looked at him warily, then at me, then back at Life.

  ‘To break the ice,’ Life added.

  Blake took his time deciding, which really annoyed me. I couldn’t understand what his issue was. Don had had breakfast in bed butt naked with me and my life; Life had even found his underwear for him, which Mr Pan had somehow managed to line his basket with, he’d even eaten breakfast with Life – cooked him breakfast – while I showered. I wasn’t comparing Don to Blake – I wasn’t – it was simply their reactions I was contrasting. In Blake’s defence, because I had to try to justify his behaviour, there was a history between him and my life, more emotions, more complexity than the simplicity of a one-night stand, we’d had a five-year love affair, of course he was going to be uncomfortable. Or. Shouldn’t it have been the other way around?

  ‘Yeah, okay’ Blake finally caved in to whatever battle he’d having. ‘Let’s have it over here.’ He guided Life and me away from the rest of the gang to a quieter part of the bar behind a stained-glass divider.

  ‘Well, this is nice,’ I said nervously, looking at Life who was clearly insulted and beginning to prickle again. ‘At least we can talk in private here.’

  ‘So what are you having?’ Life asked Blake.

  ‘Guinness.’

  No please. I looked from one man to the other; there was something I was clearly missing.

  ‘Blake, you know he’s my life, don’t you?’ I asked qui
etly once Life was distracted at the bar.

  ‘Yeah, I know,’ Blake said defensively.

  ‘He’s not a boyfriend, or an ex-boyfriend, or anybody to feel threatened by.’

  ‘Threatened? I don’t feel threatened.’

  ‘Good, because you’re acting oddly.’ I sighed. ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘How do people usually react to this?’

  ‘With interest,’ I said immediately. ‘Usually the people that love me are interested in my life. They are happy, excited to meet him. They usually ignore me so that they can talk to him. You know? At least, apart from my father, that is.’

  He lit up. ‘Hey, how is your father?’

  Another inappropriate key change but I’d go with it. ‘Father and I don’t speak.’

  ‘Why not? What happened? You were so close.’

  So much had changed. ‘We were never close but what happened is that I changed, he didn’t like it. He didn’t change, I don’t like it.’

  ‘Have you really changed?’ Blake asked, studying me.

  I swallowed. His face was so close to mine. Stupidly, my answer depended partly on whether he wanted me to have changed or not but mostly because I didn’t know the answer. I’d changed since I’d met my life, sure enough, but had he helped me become again the person I was before Blake met me, or had he helped me move on from the person who was stuck in the rut after Blake, making me a new person entirely? It was confusing and I almost felt like breaking away to confer with my life on the answer. But I couldn’t because that was odd behaviour and because Blake’s lips were almost touching mine and I never ever wanted to ever have to move away.

  ‘Because everything feels the same,’ he said. ‘Everything feels right.’ Our lips were so close they were almost brushing. My body tingled all over.

  Then I felt something cold on my chest and I looked down and saw a pint of Guinness attached to Life’s hand.

  ‘Your drink,’ Life said. ‘Enjoy.’

  Our moment was lost, stolen from me by my life.

  ‘So,’ Life said, handing me a glass of white wine, and holding a bottle of beer in his hand.

  Nobody jumped at the conversation-starter bait so he tried again.

  ‘That was really amazing today,’ Life said enthusiastically, genuinely trying hard. ‘I’ve never experienced anything like it. Is the rush still the same every time you do it?’

  ‘Yeah, it can be,’ Blake nodded.

  ‘Even though you had to dive how many times today?’

  ‘Three times. We’d three groups.’

  ‘Wow. I’d love to do it again, absolutely,’ Life said. ‘I’d recommend it to anyone.’

  ‘Great. Good, thanks. Let me give you this,’ Blake rooted around in his back pocket, ‘in case you do want to recommend it to anyone.’ He handed Life his card. It had his face on it. Life studied it, a small smile tickling on his lips, and I crossed my fingers and hoped he wouldn’t say anything catty. He looked at me and smiled instead. Blake caught the smile. It was so awkward between us all, I wanted it to be over. Enough already. I tried hard to think of something to say, but all thoughts failed me, which was ridiculous as all I’d been having all day were thoughts. Thoughts upon thoughts and now I had none. We all stood in silence in a little triangle, searching our brains for something to say. Nothing. We had nothing.

  ‘Do you want me to introduce you to some people?’ Blake asked Life, finally.

  ‘No, it’s okay, there’s a few people I recognise from earlier.’ Life jumped at the opportunity to get away. ‘Lucy, if you need me, I’ll be over here.’

  ‘Okay,’ I said, feeling annoyed and uncomfortable at the same time.

  Then the music went up a notch and as ‘Whiskey in the Jar’ started everybody was lifted a bit and the noise went up to a level where conversation was impossible.

  ‘Come on,’ Blake said, taking my hand and leading me through the crowd. I saw Jenna looking at us with such a forlorn expression that a minuscule part of me felt a tiny bit of guilt. Ish. The madness lessened as he led me through the throng; the crowd thinned out, in size and in stature, as we moved to where the old thin men were propped up on the bar, eyeing up the newbies. We passed by the reeking toilets, then went by the back of the bar where the red and black chequered tiles were faded and sticky from spilled drinks and out towards a fire exit door held open by a beer barrel. I followed him, then when we were outside I looked around for the beer garden. ‘Hey this isn’t—’ but I didn’t get to finish because his lips were on mine, he was somehow kissing me and removing my glass from my hand and then his hands were back on me again, on my hips, on my waist, running upwards to my chest and neck and through my hair. My hands immediately went to his chest, his shirt was open all the way to four buttons down, revealing nice man cleavage, and my hands rested there as they always had, feeling smooth waxed skin. It was perfect, everything I had daydreamed about in my Saturday and Sunday lie-ins till one p.m. I could taste the beer on his tongue, could smell the shower gel from his recent shower, could remember everything that was ever good about our relationship. Then we finally pulled away to catch our breath.

  ‘Mmm,’ he said.

  ‘Have I still got it?’

  ‘We’ve still got it,’ he murmured, then kissed me again. ‘What were we doing all this time not being together?’ He kissed my neck, and I froze.

  All this time. I wanted to say something but every sentence I ran through my mind sounded bitter and angry, so I shut my mouth and waited my anger out. He stopped kissing me, then led me to the grass in the sunlight and we sat down. We laughed, not about anything in particular, but for the fact that here we were, together after all this time.

  ‘Why did you come?’ Blake asked, moving a hair from my face and putting it behind my ear.

  ‘To see you.’

  ‘I’m glad you did.’

  ‘Me too.’

  We kissed again, falling short of the kiss-a-thon record I’d had with Don, then I mentally boxed myself for comparing them again.

  ‘We were interrupted earlier, weren’t we?’ he asked, casting his mind back to the equipment room in the airfield.

  Finally, the moment had come, to talk about it. I took a sip of my wine and prepared.

  ‘Oh, yeah,’ he said, remembering. ‘My Moroccan pie. The Blake Taste.’

  I thought he was joking but he wasn’t. He started explaining the old recipe and then went into further detail about how he had altered it. I was in so much shock that I couldn’t hear his words, nor think of any of my own. At least five minutes passed of me not saying anything and he had moved onto another recipe, describing fully in detail how he marinated and seasoned and simmered things for forty days and for forty nights, or at least it seemed that way. ‘So then you take the cumin and you—’

  ‘Why did you leave me?’

  He had been so engrossed in his own little world that he was completely taken by surprise.

  ‘Lucy, come on.’ He became defensive, ‘Why do you have to talk about that?’

  ‘Because it seems appropriate,’ I said, voice trembling and hoping he wouldn’t hear it, though it was obvious. ‘It’s been almost three years.’ He shook his head and pretended he couldn’t believe it had been that long, ‘And I haven’t heard anything from you and here we are just like old times and it seems like the elephant in the room. I think we should talk about it. I need to talk about it.’

  He looked around to make sure nobody was in earshot.

  ‘Okay. What do you want to talk about?’

  ‘Why you left me. I still don’t understand it. I don’t know what I did wrong.’

  ‘You didn’t do anything wrong, Lucy, it was me. I know it sounds corny but I just needed to go do my thing.’

  ‘What thing?’

  ‘You know … my thing. Travel and see places and—’

  ‘Have sex with other people?’

  ‘What? No, that’s not why I left.’

  ‘But I was travelling with you, ev
erywhere, we were seeing places all the time. I never once told you you couldn’t do what you wanted to do or be who you wanted to be. Never once.’ I was battling with staying calm so that I could have the conversation; if I was in any way emotional he wouldn’t be able to cope with it.

  ‘It wasn’t about that,’ he said. ‘It was just … me, you know. Something that I needed to do. You and me, we were so serious so young. We had the apartment, the – you know, five years,’ he said, not making sense to any other human ear but making perfect sense to mine.

  ‘You wanted to be alone,’ I said.

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘There wasn’t anybody else.’

  ‘No, Jesus, no. Lucy—’

  ‘And what about now?’ I asked, terrified of the answer. ‘Do you still need to be alone?’

  ‘Ah, Lucy.’ He looked away. ‘My life is complicated, you know. Not to me, to me it’s so simple, but for other people it’s …’

  Alarm bells rang in my head. I felt myself physically move away from him, not so much that he would notice, but so much that I would. I felt myself move away in a lot of ways.

  ‘… spontaneous and exciting and full of adventure and I like to keep moving and experience new things. You know,’ he lit up, ‘there was this one week when I went to Papua New Guinea…’ and he was off.

  For ten minutes I listened to him talk about his life and by the time he was nearing the end I knew why I was here. I was sitting on the grass beside him, listening to this familiar man sounding like a perfect stranger, and in a matter of minutes I was feeling completely differently about him. I was seeing him as somebody else, less of a god and more of a friend, a silly little friend who’d lost his way and found himself besotted with his life, his life and not anybody else’s and certainly not mine because mine was inside drinking beer and listening to traditional music on his own after I’d dragged him all the way here. I suddenly wanted to leave Blake and be inside with Life. But I couldn’t, not until after I’d done what I came here to do.

  He finished talking and I smiled, calm and serene, a little sad but feeling at peace, finally. ‘I’m really happy for you Blake,’ I said. ‘I’m happy that you’re happy in your life and I’m proud of you for all you’ve achieved.’