Chapter Twenty-Nine
Marty
Coming four times in twenty-four hours doesn't improve my pace on our morning ride even though my father isn't pushing quite as hard as he did yesterday. It surprises me further when he stops close to the peak and pulls over, pretending to admire the view. It’s possible he does enjoy the panorama for half a minute or so, but I know my dad.
He's not a standing still and staring out at the horizon kind of guy.
He needs to keep his hands and his brain busy, so I know this is an excuse for something else.
And it doesn't take much to make a guess.
“Are you going to bollock me?” I ask.
“And take that fun away from your mother?” he jokes, then takes a swig from his water bottle. “Nah. You know me, I don't have the energy.”
I nod and stare out again at the view. Unlike my father, I’m a man who could stare at a beautiful view for a long time.
“Well, for what it's worth, I am sorry,” I say. “It wasn't my plan to skip dinner or stay out. And I did call to let you know.”
“You did, but in some ways that made it worse for your ma. It was like you were choosing to not be with us rather than just letting time run away with you.”
“Well, that's sort of what happened. I didn't plan to be gone all day. We just...”
“I don't need the details.” He holds his hand up.
“It's not like that,” I say quickly.
“Sure, son. I mean, I was your age once.”
“Da, seriously. It's not.” I wait until he looks back at me, squinting into the sun behind me, and then I speak slowly. “I really do like her.”
He raises his eyebrows, high. “It's the woman I saw you with the other day?”
“Her name's Jenna.”
“Jenna. Well, she's very attractive and I dare say an older woman can have a lot of...”
“No, Da. Seriously, it’s not just sex. I feel this weird connection with her. I can't really explain it, but I think she feels the same way and...”
“Oh, Jesus, Aiden,” he says and he's either trying to laugh and failing or trying not to laugh and failing because the noises he makes are just strangled chuckles and stifled snorts. “What are you like? You realise you can't be saying any of this shite to your mother?”
“It's not shite, Dad, it's how I feel.” My chest tightens with the strain of trying to explain something that feels incomprehensible.
“I believe you, son. That's the thing. I believe you. I don't think you're bullshitting me or that you don't have feelings for her. But it's not that simple. I mean, how old is she?”
“Thirty-seven,” I say in a quiet voice.
“Wow, you see now, that's quite a bit older.” Dad seems surprised. I also would have said Jenna looks younger, but now I feel like I don't know anything about what people should look or be like at any given age. More importantly, I don't care.
“Do I need to remind you that you're ten years older than Mum?” I ask.
“I wondered how long it would take for you to say that.” He is laughing for real now. “I shouldn't even say it's different, should I? What with her being a woman and all?”
“No, you shouldn't. I mean, I get why you would think that, but it's not different. I’m not a teenager.
I'm twenty-four now and the only reason you guys know so much about my business is because I have to live at home while I pay off my debts. And then you went and dragged me on this holiday because you deemed me too irresponsible to stay home alone.”
“Oh, it’s our fault now that you shacked up with an older woman, is it?” Dad laughs louder and I know he wants me to laugh with him, but I won’t.
“By the way, twenty-four is three years older than Mum was when you met her.”
“Yes, but we didn't meet on holiday. It's really only been a couple of days, Aiden, are you sure...”
I interrupt him again, “You know me, Da, when I like someone, I like them. We have a spark. You say you remember what it's like being young. Didn't you have that spark with Mum? Didn't that all happen really quickly?”
I'm asking questions I already know the answer to.
I've heard them tell this story too many times to forget it.
My parents were married within six months.
It was love at first sight, my mother always says when she has a glass of wine in her hand and a table full of eager listeners.
Dad is always happy to sit back and watch her tell the story, a misty-eyed smile on his face.
Dad sighs, and I suspect his mind is also winding down memory lane, but then he straightens up. “But your mother didn't live in a different country. She lived three streets away from me, for Christ's sake.”
“Her living in England doesn't bother me, not at all,” I say and it's the first time I've acknowledged that to myself. Of all the things that make me wonder what the future holds for Jenna and me, the geographical distance we have to navigate is of no concern.
“So, you really want to see her again after this?” My father waves his hands around referring to the island, our holiday.
I bite the corner of my lip and think about what to reply, not because I don't know my answer but because I don't want it to be met with more challenges. I’m suddenly very, very tired and I want to go back to the resort, back to Jenna.
“We haven't talked about it, but I think I want to try. Or just stay in touch. Something.” My father is looking at me in a very measured way. “Life's too fucking short, Da.” I choke on the words, knowing I don't have to explain it further.
I don’t. He rolls his bike closer and puts a hand on my shoulder.
“You're absolutely right, Aiden. I'll never argue with that.
And I'll never stop you from wanting to be with whoever you want to be with.
I promised you that once before, and I'm promising it to you again.” He smiles at me, the same warm, delighted smile Maeve has on the rare occasions she lets a natural grin shape her mouth.
It's contagious and I smile back. That's when Dad's eyes sharpen.
“Just go easy with your mother. Let me talk to her first.”
I nod as he squeezes his grip on me then drops his hand.
“Actually,” I say as he climbs back onto his bike. I smile when he groans. Heart-to-heart conversations are like good views for him; he gets his fill pretty quick. “Could you do it today? Like when we get back to the villa? I'd really like Jenna to join us for dinner tonight.”
Eyes snapped shut, his head falls back. “Holy fuckballs, Aiden, are you trying to give me a heart attack and your mother a brain aneurysm?”
“No, I just want to spend my birthday with her, as well as with you all.”
Dad’s laughter is back. “I'll do my best, but seriously, you better warn Jenna what she's in for.”
“Jenna will be grand,” I say, sounding more confident than I am. “Thanks, Dad. And really, I am sorry that I didn't make it to dinner last night.”
“I believe you are. Now, race you to the bottom, birthday boy!” Dad says and sets off before my feet are even clipped in.
*****
It's just after nine when we get back and the villa is empty.
“Looks like your mum did drag Maeve to yoga.” Dad heads straight for the fridge for a beer.
I like how he doesn't even give it a thought in front of me. I also like how I don't crave the cold fresh smack of a beer on a sunny day. I haven’t all week, not since meeting Jenna. I look around at the sound of a vibration and see Maeve’s phone on the side jiggling with new notifications.
“Nah, no way Maeve would be able to sit through another yoga class, not without her phone. I bet they just went for a quick walk or something,” I say and head to the coffee machine. Dad slides a cool bottle of water my way.
“Drink up,” he says as he walks to go sit outside with a book of sudokus he must have got somewhere yesterday. “That was a hot one.”
I smile and take a swig as the coffee machine kicks into life. I then take my drinks and go shower, standing under the hot water much longer than I usually do.
The bathroom has a different layout to Jenna's, albeit much smaller, but the décor is the same and it's impossible to look at the tiles and not think about what we've done in her shower together.
It's also impossible to think about that without my dick getting hard and needy.
But I do my best to ignore it, knowing I'll be back in Jenna’s villa and hopefully in her arms and between her legs within the hour.
This thought stamps a smile on my face that is impossible to shift as I dry, get dressed, and brush my teeth.
I run the smallest dollop of product through my hair, using my hands to work it in, and then give up when I'm bored, returning to the bedroom to look for my sunglasses, wallet and some condoms as I had noticed yesterday Jenna was running low. That's when I hear the voices.
“She's practically my age, James!” my mother shouts.
“She's not,” Dad says in a hiss. At least he is trying to keep his voice down. “She's thirty-seven.”
“That's not even fifteen years younger than me!”
“So what, Cynthia? Relationships like his happen all the time. Look at us,” Dad tries.
“That's different!” My mum is too quick to bite back, which tells me she's not thinking, only arguing.
“Is it really that different?” My father sighs.
“I just don't understand it. Why can't he just focus on himself and get better?
Why can't we just have a family holiday and spend time with each other?
After the year we've had, don't we deserve that?” I hear the tears in my mother's voice, the scraping of a chair and the swishing of my dad's Lycra as he no doubt moves to comfort her.
I'm almost ready to push off and walk into the room, but then my dad speaks again.
“Maybe this is part of him getting better?” he says. “Maybe he already is getting better? Maybe this is just Aiden living his life and we have to let that happen?”
Thank you, Da.
“Then why do I feel like he's still somewhere else? Why do I feel like I haven't got him back?” My mother says.
Jesus, Ma.