Chapter 29
AL
In bed just after midnight, Al tries to quieten his mind so that he can sleep.
He still hasn’t heard from Melody since he texted her before going away.
He was grateful his brother Seán had taken his phone from him when he was recording a drunken message but he didn’t appreciate him keeping his phone for the entire weekend and only giving it back to him when he got into the car to drive home.
He had been devastated to see no missed calls or messages from Melody.
He shouldn’t have been. She told him what she was, or wasn’t looking for.
He is disappointed, but he has to stop raising his expectations and expecting the same from others.
Just as he’s pining for Melody and planning how to organise a repeat of their lovemaking in this bed, she calls him.
‘If it isn’t the Night Owl herself,’ he says, smiling into the phone.
‘Hoot hoot,’ she says, that husky tone making him further melt into his bed, propped up by six pillows. A weekend away from her was too long.
‘Let me guess. It’s midnight. You’re alone.’
‘Sounds about right.’
‘Just to get this straight. This is Al, the bridge guy, just in case you think you called that other guy that you call for spontaneous sex. Though I’m also available for that.’
‘Just wondering if we could talk?’
She sounds timid. He listens closely to the background.
‘Are you walking outside?’
‘Yeah, I’m going to be honest with you, Al, because you know I always am.’
It’s what he has appreciated about her from the start.
‘I decided quite recently, mere minutes ago, that I’m a grown-up and I have to start acting like one, so I started making my way home.’
‘At this hour, that’s not such a wise grown-up decision to make.’
‘I have my scooter.’
‘Ah, well every superhero needs a get-away vehicle.’
She laughs. ‘Yes, but you made an excellent point. Now I’m not so sure of myself and you said to call when I need you so …’
‘Absolutely,’ he says, hearing the rare sound of vulnerability in her voice and sitting up between the six cushions he’s cocooned in. ‘Where are you?’
‘I’m going over a bridge actually. It made me think of you. The one that links Tara Street Station to Liberty Hall.’
He’s relieved to hear she’s almost home. ‘You don’t know the name?’
‘What weirdos know the names of bridges?’
‘You’ll like this one, it’s called Butt Bridge.’
She laughs and then turns serious. ‘Ooh, weirdo alert, a man’s coming near me, keep talking to me.’
‘Don’t look him in the eye, walk fast. Butt Bridge, named after Isaac Butt, leader of the Home Rule movement. It opened in 1879, the year he died.’
‘Looks in pretty good condition to be that old.’ She sounds distracted, nervous.
He smiles. ‘It used to be a swing bridge, they replaced it with a concrete one in 1932. And the bridge above your head, don’t look up or you’ll crash, the one with the train line, is called Loopline Bridge. Is the weirdo gone?’
‘Yep, he went the other way. I’m almost over the bridge now.’
He imagines her taking a right and passing The Custom House. She’s almost home.
‘My flatmate Claire isn’t home tonight so you know how I hate that. I was staying with Prunella but that got weird very fast so I got out of there.’
She sounds shaken.
‘Are you okay, Melody? You can come over here if you like. I won’t, we don’t have to, I’m not going to jump on you. You can sleep here.’
‘Thank you, I appreciate it. But I really think I need to be alone. Can you help me be alone?’
She sounds sad and scared but determined.
He smiles. ‘I can. I have a funny story to tell you about work today that you’re going to love.’
If she was more comfortable she would have howled at the story about Walter holding a dildo up before two gardaí, but she is nicely entertained which calms her.
Then she’s worried about the gardaí coming for her and she wants to stop walking in order to concentrate on deleting the dating app and the account immediately but he encourages her to keep going. He needs to get her home safely.
They talk while she walks up the three flights of stairs to her apartment, Al filling her in on the details of his rowing race, as she walks through the empty rooms of her apartment, turning on lights, waiting for someone to jump out at her.
Her voice is shaky, as she kicks open doors like a ninja and switches on lights.
He hears her lock the door, check the windows, open and close wardrobe doors, the balcony sliding door.
He hears the tightness in her breathing, the clipped tense words.
He learns almost as much listening to her as he did when she was in his office and bed.
They were so familiar with each other, so early. Trapped in the revolving door together.
Something stirs in him, in his frozen heart.
A thawing perhaps. It connects with his head, they send a message to each other, both in agreement.
We definitely like her. A lot. But it’s so soon, a little internal voice whines at his heart and head.
And he doesn’t want to get hurt again. It almost killed him.
The wound has only scabbed over, it could fall off and be out in the stinging air at any time.
But Melody doesn’t deserve to be phased out, she isn’t the one who hurt him. His mind battles back and forth.
‘Okay,’ she says, ‘I’m going to get my PJs on.’
‘Can we FaceTime?’
She FaceTimes him and when she appears she’s pulling a vest over her head. She tugs off her jeans. He watches as she steps into a tiny pair of shorts and then she gets into bed.
‘Mmm,’ he says, enjoying the sight and sitting back in his bed, getting comfortable.
Melody couldn’t be further from the mood he’s in. She sits up in bed, lights on full, looking around, eyes alert, wide awake.
‘Tell me about your weekend,’ he says, trying to keep her calm.
‘Oh, where to start. It’s been such a good one,’ she says, sarcastically. ‘Do you want to hear about how my ex-boyfriend is throwing me out of my business?’
‘Absolutely.’
He’s all ears, and she’s all words, and again, that honesty. He listens to her voice because at some stage she turns off the lights and he can see a vague outline of her but he places the phone next to his head and he closes his eyes, feeling like she’s beside him, which he wishes she were.
She stops occasionally because she hears a sound or noise and he opens his eyes, alert, and talks her through it. She leaves her bedroom, checks the apartment. Then calmed, she gets back into bed and continues her story. She’s so jumpy he can see why she can’t get a good night’s sleep alone.
‘And then he actually said, or implied, that I had gone into business with him not because I felt guilty but because I was still in love with him.’
‘And are you?’
‘No,’ she says quietly. ‘But it’s hard to let go of someone, isn’t it.’
‘Yeah. Especially when it comes out of the blue. I don’t think I would have taken it so hard if I felt we were breaking down at some point. I didn’t see it. It just happened.’
‘Break-ups don’t just happen though, they’re already happening. The break-up is the finale. I separated myself from Sam long before he tried to propose to me. That was just how it ended.’
Suddenly, once sleepy, he’s alert. A new perspective. Of course Melody is right, the end didn’t just happen, things had been sticky for a while, he just couldn’t figure out why.
‘Can I be honest with you, Al?’
‘When are you not?’
‘I think you’re not that hurt about losing your fiancée.’
He laughs. She’s surprisingly wrong.
‘What’s her name?’
‘Tara.’
‘Right. You see, I didn’t even know her name but guess whose name I do know?
Walter. You’ve been stalking and punishing him more than you’ve even mentioned Tara.
I think the real break-up has been you and Walter.
You’re more hurt at what he’s done to you than what she’s done, you’re sadder to lose him than her, I think you miss him more than you miss her.
You’ve shared more memories with me about him than her.
I think you can get over Tara quickly. I think your heart is broken because you lost your best friend. And I know what that feels like.’
Al’s eyes are welling up and he feels a lump in his throat. He can’t talk. He punches a pillow, wanting to be rid of the hurt.
‘You still there?’ she asks softly.
The sound that comes out of his mouth is gurgled, an indecipherable word.
‘I don’t think you can chase hurt away,’ she says with a yawn.
‘I think you have to just let it be, and you’ll feel it a bit less every day.
Then one day you wake up and it’s gone. Maybe it’s like loneliness.
Or the fear of being alone. If I spend more and more time alone, then maybe I’ll stop noticing I’m alone. ’
‘So wise,’ he says, recovering. Though he’s not sure about the alone part. He doesn’t want to get used to being alone and doesn’t know why he should have to.
‘I’m not wise. I’m the biggest idiot I know.’
She’s right though, about Walter. Most of Al’s heartbreak has been about him.
‘There was a petting zoo at home advertising in the local paper that you could sponsor the animals. So I signed up for it. I sponsored a pig and called him Walter.’
Melody chuckles sleepily. ‘And did it make you feel better?’
‘A bit.’
‘Good.’
He’s falling, blissfully, deep into his pillows.
‘You still there?’ she asks softly.
‘Mm-hmm.’
‘It’s five a.m. I made it.’
‘You want to go?’ he murmurs.
‘No. Do you want to come over?’
He’s wide awake now and throws the covers off.
It’s difficult to leave Melody’s bed for work three hours later. He leaves it until the last possible second because he’s so close to his office. He hasn’t had any sleep. He plants a long kiss on her lips and leaves her in bed, naked, exhausted and drifting away with a smile on her face.