Chapter 79
79
“Joey, can I ask you…things?”
“Uh. Sure .” He propped himself up on his elbow. “Anything.”
“Right.” I took a breath. “On and off, for a long time, you’ve liked me. But what if I was just an idea? What if you find your emptiness is still there? Because, Joey, I’m not sure another person can fill it. What if you blame me?”
“C’mere.” He peppered my face with kisses. “So. I’ve gone to therapy, twice a week, for the past eight months. Before that, I did over a year in couples counseling, then individual sessions. I’m the only one who can, yeah, ‘cure’ me.”
He was talking a good game…
“But I’ve actually done stuff, Anna. I’ve made up with my mum and my brother. I get how it was for them back then—they hadn’t much choice. Even my dad. He’s dead but it’s not too late to forgive him. I’m trying. It’s progress that I even want to.”
Okay.
“The sense of being completely alone? If it comes back, it’s mine to deal with. Anything else on your mind?”
“Why me, Joey? Is it just because you never ‘did’ me? Was I just another woman on your bingo card?”
He flinched. “I always had it bad for you, not gonna lie. But…Okay, I’ll tell you what I like about you. You’re independent. I mean, you come across as girl-next-door, but you’re actually not, are you? I mean, you just walked away from that secure life in New York.”
“A bout of insanity.”
“Stop that. You’re really fun to be around. You’re genuinely kind.” His tone became more somber. “After ‘that night,’ even though I was sore and, like, fucked up, I knew you were hurting too. All your apologizing…I knew you cared about me.”
“I did.”
“You know your own mind, not afraid to boss people around—”
“Jacqui said that. That you like them bossy.”
“I don’t like ‘them’ bossy. I like you . In good form, bad form, tearing me a new one…You’ve great taste in music. You can’t cook and you don’t pretend…Yeah, that’s what I’m trying to say!” he declared. “You’re you . You don’t pretend to be anyone else.”
“What don’t you like about me?”
“Do I sense a camper van in my future?”
That made me laugh. “You’ll grow to love it.”
“In that case, I love everything about you. So, Anna, why me?”
“For the longest time I was confused. There was the whole Narky Joey thing. Then Jacqui was always so angry, but it seemed to me you were a good dad, even if it wasn’t the way she wanted. When you told me about you as a kid, I saw how frightened you were. That you wanted to live differently. But you couldn’t manage without your defenses.” I stopped. “And even knowing that, I hurt you so badly—”
“Anna. Hey. Let’s stay focused.” He kissed me. “I couldn’t manage without my defenses until…?”
“Until you did a ton of therapy. And walked the talk. And grew up.”
He beamed, delighted.
“I love you. I’m mad about you. Look, this is important: you know the worst of me—”
And he knew the worst of me.
“We’re going into this with all the facts,” he said. “Even so, things aren’t simple. I’ve four kids. I live in Dublin, you live here. But could be worse, you could be in New York, right?”
I nodded.
“Do you want to be with me?” he asked.
Again, I nodded.
“Anna, more than life, I want to be with you. I want this to work. I’ll do everything I can. If we don’t do a runner at the first sign of trouble, if we show up for each other and talk, we can probably figure this out.”
On the floor, in the pocket of my jeans, my phone rang.
“You need to get that?”
“No.”
Eventually it stopped, then began again.
“Sorry.” I picked it up. “It’s Jacqui.”
Quickly I clicked out Sorry for ringing earlier. Can’t talk now. Getting railed by Joey.
I flashed the screen at Joey, who promptly began shaking with laughter, then I pressed send.
“What’s so funny?”
“All of it. ‘Railed.’ That it’s from you to Jacqui and that it’s all good.” Suddenly worried, he asked, “It is, isn’t it? This won’t mess things up?”
“I don’t think so.”
“?‘Railed,’?” he repeated. “That’s a new one for me. I’m going to rail you, Anna Walsh.” He tilted his head at me. “Yeah. I like the sound of that. Or ‘boned.’?”
“I like that better. Maybe it’s my age?”
He slid over me, propping himself up on his arms, his body close but not actually touching mine. Making intense eye contact, he said, “Anna Walsh, I’m gonna bone you.”
I was entertained, but also…into this.
“Drill you?” he asked.
“Say it.”
“Anna, I’m gonna drill you. No, wait. Anna, I’m gonna pound you.”
“I like ‘bone’ the best.”
“Okay, Anna, get ready, because I’m gonna bone you.”
Something was moving about down there. I took a look. Yep, he was definitely going to bone me.
But what he actually did was make love. With slow, mindful thrusts, he eased himself in, right to the hilt, then all the way back out again, keeping me quivering on the edge for a long, long time.
“I love you,” he breathed.
“Oh, Joey, I love you. But, Joey, I can’t endure this much longer.”
“Not just yet.” His chest heaved. “Wait.”
No, that was impossible. Sliding my own hand between us, I went straight for my—
“Anna, no.” Laughing, he grasped me by the wrist. “Absolutely. Not.”
That was all it took. Those two words in his stern tone triggered a detonation which left me speechless and incapable.
“What happened there?” he asked, his eyes narrowed with interest.
“Tell you later,” I managed. “Don’t stop.”
Afterwards, when we could both speak again, I stumbled through an explanation. “In the Broderick, when you said…And your voice was…And I felt…So yeah, those two words, you sound ‘hot and cross.’?”
“But that time with Isaac, I wasn’t cross. He knew that. I wasn’t cross with you either.”
“Okay, not cross. A little forbidding. Just the right amount.” Dreamily, I said, “You and those boys, you’re lovely together.”
“You liked them?” His face lit up. “Because they like you. Zeke calls you ‘the kind lady.’ Max—what were his exact words? ‘Capable of conversation,’ that’s it! So serious, my little man. And Isaac? I might have to fight him for you. Even Trea says you’re ‘not embarrassing,’ which is high praise.”
“Seriously? That’s a relief.” I touched the tip of my tongue to his chest—he tasted delicious—then traced my fingers along the section of sheet music inked on his bicep. “What’s this?”
“First five notes of ‘Since I’ve Been Loving You.’ Led Zeppelin,” he added.
“I know who it’s by!” I was offended.
“Sorry. Of course you do.” He laughed. “I’ll always love them. But I love so many different kinds of music these days. You? Best song to make you happy?”
“So many…but I’ll go wiiiith Madonna. ‘Vogue.’ You?”
“Patti Smith. Anything by her. Always. So, best song to be sad to?”
“Amy Winehouse. Back to Black . The whole album. You?”
“?‘White Wine in the Sun.’ I cry every time. Or, ‘If the World Was Ending.’?”
“I know that one. But it’s such a love song, Joey.”
“And that’s why it’s sad.”
“I guess. All right then, best song to have sex to?”
“I…don’t…know,” he said, thoughtfully. “I’ve never really…”
“Oh my God!” I was full of enthusiasm. “Start thinking. We need to audition lots . Gimme my phone.” Ignoring the string of emoji-riddled, capital-letter filled texts from Jacqui—I was certain she’d understand—I went into Spotify. “I’ll pick the first one. You can do the next. Amaze me, Joey.”
I caught a flash of a smile. He looked so happy.
—
“…This one is doing it for me…”
“…Oh, Joey, this is sexxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxy…”
“…holy fuck…”
“…oh my Godddd…”
“…Yanno, Anna, I’m starting to think it isn’t the music, it’s just you.”
We’d veered from Blackstreet to Dusty Springfield to My Chemical Romance to David Bowie, changing moods and tempo, getting excellent results from all of them. It had been the most fun I’d ever had in bed.
Late in the afternoon, the light fading from the sky, I said, “We should eat something. How are you with toast and Nutella?”
“Let me take you out. We could go into town? The Spanish? The Broderick? Wherever you like.”
I hesitated. “Joey, if we did that, it’d be like beaming the news up into space for the whole world to see.”
“Don’t you want people to know?”
I did. But, “Just warning you. There would be no coming back from it.”
“I don’t want to come back from it.” Then, “Do you?”
“I’ll put some clothes on.”
—
The Broderick was the only place serving food. When we walked in, it was tumbleweed city. Utterly deserted.
“Still in town?” Emilien asked Joey. Then he noticed me—and actually blushed. Quick on the uptake, round here.
“Sit down, sit down.” Emilien appeared quite agitated. “Toasted sandwiches, gin? Ice cream after?”
“Lovely.”
The gin took a while to arrive. “The sandwiches will be along in about half an hour, you know how it is around here.” Emilien disappeared again.
Joey moved his thumb across my palm. “I can’t believe I get to hold hands with you.”
“You get to do a lot more than th—Oh, hi, Peadar.” It was a surprise to see Peadar Brady here in the Broderick: he was a loyal customer of the Boot.
“Anna,” he declared. “And the go-boy!”
Joey stood to shake Peadar’s outstretched hand.
“What brings you to town?” Peadar asked Joey.
“Aaah, Anna does.”
“Anna?”
“Yeah. I’m in love with her.”
Peadar chortled. “Shur, that was obvious.” He trained his gaze on me. “You were harder to read. But looks like it all worked out. I hope you’ll both be very happy.”
A few more customers had arrived. The place was really quite busy for a Monday night in late November.
“Anna. Mr Armstrong.” Tipper Mahon appeared at the table. “Tiler Brady.” He nodded at Peadar.
“Hi, Tipper,” I said. Then, “Hi, Sinéad.” Because Tipper was accompanied by his wife. And…“Vazey, good to see you. Declan. Hal! Hi. And Mrs Mahon, hello, you’re over your Novemberitis? How come you’re all out tonight?”
A stupid question: it was obvious that, instead of getting our drinks, Emilien had been making calls, because here came Ziryan and Aber. Wait a minute—Ziryan and Aber? Looking rumpled and very together. Well, how lovely .
Shortly afterwards, Karina and Gráinne tumbled in. “Ah no!” Karina declared when she saw us. “It’s true!” Then, “Sorry, Anna. Delighted for you. Just a bit disappointed for myself.”
The energy in the lounge tightened—Vivian had arrived. The crowd parted to admit her, to study Joey and me, her face a picture of confusion. “Seriously?” she asked. “Sexy Man Armstrong and Anna from Dublin? I’m just not seeing it.”
“Get them eyes of yours tested!” Augustina Mahon was clearly no fan of Vivian’s. “They’re mad about each other!”
I spotted Ike, lurking nearby. He slid over and muttered, “Unfinished business, didn’t I tell you?”
I laughed. “I should have believed you.”
“Make way!” Emilien had brought our toasted sandwiches. “Let them eat their meal. Are any of you intending to buy a drink or are you just here to gawk at the pair of them?”
“Just here to gawk,” Peadar said. Several others—Tipper, Vazey, Declan Erskine and a few more Beardy Glarers—joined in.
“I’ll have a drink,” Hal piped up. “If somebody else pays for it.”
“And I’d like a drink,” Sinéad Mahon echoed.
“But we’re doing Dry November,” Tipper told his wife.
“Fuck it, Tipper, it’s December in four days, I’m dry enough. Emilien, a vodka and Coke, make it a large one, and whatever Hal and Mrs Mahon want.”
“Arra. Might as well get me something too,” Tipper said.
“Lookit, if Tipper’s having a pint, I’m having a pint,” a Beardy Glarer said, which kicked off a large-scale crumbling of resolve. Soon it was pints all round.
“As a wise man once said”—Farrelly the Flowers strode across the lounge—“?‘I’ll have a Babycham.’ Emilien, no, that’s a joke, I’ll have a pint.” He turned his attention to me. “I knew it. I did. I said it to you. Didn’t I?”
“You did, Farrelly, you did.”
“I don’t know how your mother will take the news but the babeen Regan will be delighted.”
“My heart is broken,” Hal said. “But who could resist Mr Joseph Armstrong?”
“Quite.” Here came Dr Muireann. “Christ on a bike, the day I’ve had. Out the door with throat infections, suspected pleurisy, morbid thoughts—and now this . Emilien, bring me a large, strong something. Teagan! Where did you come from?”
Teagan stood before us, as if made of stone. Only her eyes moved, flicking from Joey to me, then back again. “It’s true? I swear to God, I can’t . Nothing but old people falling in love and having disgusting old-people sex. It should be illegal!”
“Teagan Burke!” Hal was horrified. “This is a love story for the ages.”
“?‘Ages’? More like ‘Ag ed .’?”
“Is it time for your ice cream yet?” Emilien had returned.
Joey looked at me.
Take me home and bone me , I tried to convey.
“Yeah, yanno, Emilien”—Joey was standing up—“no ice cream tonight. I think we’re just going to head.”
“Grand.” Emilien blushed again.
“We’ll be off,” Joey said to the crowd. “See you all soon.”
A clamor of distressed voices broke out.
They’re leaving!
Course they’re leaving. Would you stay if you could be getting it from Sexy Man Armstrong?
Or Anna Walsh. She’s just as sexy.
Did you know he calls her Sweet-face? A secret known only to a few.
“Enjoy yourselves,” Dr Muireann called after us.
“Yes, enjoy yourselves, enjoy yourselves!”
And we did.