Chapter 27 #2
“And because you have experience working with Ben, we thought you might be interested in working with him again in the future. What do you think? Would you be interested in an arrangement like that?”
Still battling to hold everything together, I lie, “Of course. I’d be very interested, sir.”
Mr O’Leary simpers and pats me on the back. “Great stuff.”
When Mr O’Leary leaves, I sprint to the bathroom. I lock myself in a stall. Behind the protection of a thin wooden door, I cry silently.
How am I supposed to work with Ben Kehoe again? How am I going to manage seeing his face again, day in, day out? What am I supposed to do?
With blurry vision, I look up at the bathroom ceiling. “Please,” I whisper, “Can somebody tell me what’s right?”
In the afternoon, I’m due to appear before Judge Kearney in the Criminal Courts of Justice.
Today’s case concerns the lawful use of force.
The main question before the court today is whether the Director of Public Prosecutions has enough evidence to proceed with prosecuting our client.
If Judge Kearney is satisfied that such evidence exists, the trial will proceed.
Opportunely, I’m working with the barrister Jane Keely once again.
She’s the kind woman that I worked with when I filled in for Melissa.
Today’s hearing is expected to take a maximum of two hours.
Though, because Judge Kearney is the presiding judge, it’ll likely go on until well after 5:00.
A tight, anxious feeling consumes me as I walk up the Criminal Courts of Justice’s steps.
My stomach cramps, icy sweat spills from my skin, and a bolt of nervousness strikes my racing heart.
Flashes of my most recent experience on these steps appear in my mind: Ben’s terrified face, Ben retreating from my grasp, Ben’s voice saying ‘No, Nick. I can’t’. Dread dances along my bones.
I’m grateful for Jane’s vibrant presence. Coming alongside me, she says, “Nick, it’s great to be working with you again.” She’s holding a large folder across her body.
“I’m delighted to be working with you too.” I smile widely, hoping to rid myself of my earlier fears.
“Now,” Jane begins as we enter the Criminal Courts of Justice, “I’ve been in contact with Judge Kearney’s clerk, and she told me that our hearing has been pushed back by an hour.”
“Why’s that?”
Jane rolls her eyes. She whispers, “Sure you know yourself; Judge Kearney can never get anything finished on time. He pays way too much attention to detail.”
“Jesus.” I sigh. “What are we supposed to do for the next hour then?”
Jane flashes a smile at me. Her temple wrinkles. “I’m hoping to bump into one of my colleagues. I need to ask her a question about GDPR. So, why don’t you grab yourself a coffee from that little van across the road, and I’ll meet you back here just before the hearing. Is that okay?”
I give her a tight smile. “That’s perfect, Jane. I’ll see you then.”
Jane has already turned on her heel in search of her colleague when she shouts back, “Thanks, Nick.”
Carefully, I make my way across the road.
It’s bright today thanks to the shining sun, but there’s a strong breeze that gusts by every so often.
The shiny silver coffee van with ‘Trisha’s’ written in giant yellow and red lettering is metres away from me.
Outside the coffee van, there is a group of young men, dressed professionally in suits, and a group of builders.
Slowly, I step up to the van and speak with the young barista.
“What can I get for you?” she asks, her voice as soft as a baby’s cheek.
There’s only one thing that will briefly bring me joy. “Can I have a hot chocolate please?”
“Do you want marshmallows and cream with that?”
“Please.”
As she prepares my drink, I mindlessly stare. I lose myself in the polished silver of the coffee van. I don’t know how long I’ve been staring for when the barista’s voice pulls my attention back to the present moment. She hands me my drink and wishes me a pleasant day.
I step to the side and reach for a compostable lid to cover my cup. As I’m securing the thin black plastic in my fingers, a strong wind blows by me. Woefully, it takes the compostable lid with it.
“Shit.”
I watch as the breeze blows the lid a few metres away from me.
I follow its trail. When the wind stops, so too does the fleeing lid.
It ends up at the tip of a pointed black shoe.
I sluggishly move my eyes up the body of the shoe’s owner.
When I decipher their identity, I almost jump back with fright.
Seeing him stuns me into silence. It’s Ben.
“Nick.” His voice is deep, rich.
I start to turn away from him. I fear that tears will spill from my eyes if I’m forced to look at him for too long.
Reaching out, Ben calls, “Nick. Please.”
I stop. I turn back and study him. His black suit fits him perfectly.
Hidden beneath his stubble, his pink lips resemble the colour of a beautiful rose.
The sea of dark curls atop his head is as alluring as ever.
His eyes appear glassy, like he too is fighting to hold back tears.
The most astonishing part of his dress is at his neck: a cerulean tie.
“Please, Nick. I just want to talk. Please.”
My mind races. God only knows what Ben wants to say to me. Steeling myself, I croak out, “Yes?”
Hesitantly, Ben clears his throat. His shoulders are shaking a little. Because it isn’t too cold outside, it’s clear that this trembling has come about through anxiety.
“Can…” He licks his lips, takes a deep breath which causes his trembling shoulders to rise and fall, and then swallows hard. “I want to hug you,” he says, barely able to keep his gaze on me. He runs his fingers through his mop of curls. “Can I hug you?”
“Why?” I ask him through closed teeth.
He sighs. “Because I wasn’t able to on Monday.”
I cock my head back and look up at the sky. While I wish I could be stern, deep down, I know what I want. To be in Ben Kehoe’s arms. Returning my gaze to him, I let a smile tug at my lips. The smile is warm; it momentarily heats my body. I place my unlidded cardboard cup on the ground.
Ben’s eyes grow wide, hopeful. “Is that a yes?”
I nod. I’m afraid that if I answer verbally, the layer of protection I’ve built against the sob climbing up my throat will be destroyed.
“Really?” Ben asks.
“Yes,” I manage to choke out.
Within seconds, Ben closes the gap that separates us.
He takes a brief look at the people outside the Criminal Courts of Justice and Trisha’s.
None of them appear to be interested in what Ben and I are doing.
Ben gently steps over to me with open arms. His torso has never looked more inviting.
I’m pulled into it. When I connect with him, his warmth shields me from the wind.
I release my tense jaw, swallow the sob in my throat, and let my heartbeat slow as Ben squeezes me tight.
“I should’ve done this on Monday,” he whispers. “I’m sorry that I couldn’t.”
“It’s okay,” I tell him, my voice slightly muffled by his chest.
“It hurt me too, you know,” he says. “To not have the courage to do this while everyone was looking. To not tell the world that I love you.”
“We’re right outside the courts. Are you not worried about everyone seeing this?”
His response is more than I could ever wish for. “I don’t care about what people might think. I only care about you, Nick. If they want to watch, let them.”
Enveloped in his arms, I echo his sentiment. “Let them.”
After a few quiet seconds, Ben rests his chin on the top of my head. Beneath the sunshine and in front of the world, Ben whispers, “I really love you, Nick. And I’m ready to admit that to the world.” He says it louder. “I love you, Nick Carthy.”
Matching his tone, I reply, “I love you too, Ben Kehoe.”