Jimmy felt a weight lifted off him when Aesop was finally fit to be moved to Dublin to finish getting better. He’d been up and back to Cork so many times in the last two months that he reckoned he could probably fly the bloody plane himself. Being in Dublin meant that it was easier for everyone. Things were getting back to normal now. They all still thought of Aesop constantly, called him and dropped in, but now that he was out of danger and the extent of his recovery was down to the work he was doing with the physio, they were able to drift back to their jobs and lives. Jimmy realised that it was happening after he got a call from Shiggy to meet him in town. He found the little guy sipping on a pint in McDaids on his own.
‘What’s the story, Shiggy?’
‘Hiya Jimmy. Pint?’
‘Yeah, lovely.’
When two fresh ones were calming on the bar in front of them, Shiggy turned to Jimmy.
‘Jimmy, I go home tomorrow.’
‘Oh. Right. I see. Aw man, that’s a shame.’
‘Sorry Jimmy. Have to go.’
‘Not at all, Shiggy. Christ, you’ve been here for weeks longer than you were meant to be. You’re very good to hang about. They must be going mad in work.’
‘Ah, fuck work, Jimmy. I don’t care.’
‘Don’t be silly man. You’ve been there … how long now?’
‘Twenty years. Too many.’
Shiggy sighed, rubbing his head, and looked at his pint.
‘Twenty years, Jimmy. Is enough. More sings in rife than Kyotosei, ne? When Aesop get hurt, I sink I need … need to change sings.’
‘I think we all did. Shit like that … puts things in perspective.’
‘Yeah. I want to pray music. Ainu music, maybe. I buy tonkori. Go home and study. Quit job. Job is just … you know, Jimmy. You quit already. ’
‘Yeah. I know what you mean. And you’ll be brilliant on the tonkori, man. You’re brilliant on fucking everything, aren’t you, ye bastard? When you get the hang of it, come back and we’ll do that album. Irish rock and Ainu trad. Together at last!’
Shiggy giggled.
‘Yeah. Deadry. You know, Jimmy, when I decide to quit job, first I sink I stay and pray with you guys.’
‘But Shiggy …’
‘Yeah, I know. Aesop can’t pray, so no Grove.’
‘Not for a long time yet, man. Might be a year. More, even.’
‘You find new bass prayer some day?’
‘He’ll be shite compared to you, no matter who he is.’
‘Yeah. Plobabry.’
They both laughed and took a pull of their beer.
‘I miss you guys.’
‘We’ll miss you. It wasn’t the same when you left the last time.’
Shiggy nodded.
‘Hey, when Aesop is better, if still no good bass prayer …’
‘I’ll be sending a plane ticket to Tokyo. I promise. But you’re sure?’
‘Sure?’
‘About quitting your job? That’s a big step.’
‘Oh. Yeah. Sure. I have money, Jimmy. No plobrem. But, ne, I work hard for twenty years for other people. Now I work hard for Shiggy. Aesop is okay now, but first when he was … you know … everybody afraid … so, now I understand. Rife berry short, desho?’
‘Fucking tell me about it, Shiggy. What time is your flight tomorrow?’
‘Two o’clock.’
‘You going in to say goodbye to Aesop?’
‘Sure. I go in morning. Take morning off work. Work say “rah-rah-rah … where is Shiggy … oh, big plobrem … rah-rah-rah”. Ha Ha. Shiggy say “Fuck off, work! I quit!”.’
Jimmy laughed and put down his empty glass.
‘Maybe you shouldn’t tell them to fuck off.’
‘No? So … do what you do rast year is better?’
‘Eh … well, maybe not,’ said Jimmy, blushing at the mere memory of it. ‘Fair point.’
‘Is okay, Jimmy. Wait when I go back to Tokyo and then I quit.’
‘Yeah.’
They said nothing for a minute, each one remembering all that had happened between them. Then Jimmy looked up. He didn’t want to get all fucking depressed and bummed out again. There’d been enough of that shit going on around here recently. Too much. And anyway, Shiggy deserved a better send-off than that. There was only one fitting way for an Irishman to send one of his best mates away onto a plane.
‘Pint?’ he said.
*
When they’d finished making love and were lying there in the candlelight, Trish began to trace one of Norman’s scars with her finger. He didn’t move; just lay there looking at the ceiling.
‘Norman?’
‘Hmm?’
‘Do you think we’ll ever be able to …’
‘To what?’
‘Be together.’
‘What? We are together.’
‘No we’re not. Not since the accident. And not really before that either.’
‘What do you mean, Trish?’
‘I love you Norman.’
He paused.
‘I know.’
‘And you say you love me.’
‘I do.’
‘But you won’t let me inside you.’
‘Jesus, Trish, you are inside me. I never stop thinking about you.’
‘Yeah. Maybe I’m in here.’ She touched his head. ‘But I need to be in here.’ Her finger went to the scar on his chest.’
‘You are.’
‘I’m not. There’s too much other stuff in there already.’
‘Ah Trish, I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘You do, Norman. Sure, isn’t that the problem?’
‘There’s no problem.’
‘Of course there is. You can barely sleep at night. And over the past while, you’ve been getting more and more distant from me. I don’t know what to do.’
‘I … I just have bad dreams sometimes. It’s nothing. It’ll go away.’
‘It’s getting worse!’
‘Look Trish, it’s nothing. Please, I just … it’s nothing.’
She sat up and looked down at him.
‘Norman.’
‘What? Jesus, what is it Trish?’
‘Look at me.’
‘I am looking at you.’
‘Do I look like a feckin’ eejit to you?’
‘No. Of course not.’
‘Tell me what those dreams are. Tell me what happened to you. And tell me what you’re planning to do about it, because I can’t help you if you don’t.’
‘Nothing happened. I don’t …’
‘What’s this?’
She jabbed one of his scars.
‘And this?’
She poked at another one.
‘And this one? This one goes all the way around your back for God sake.’
‘I told you about them …’
‘Collapsed lung my arse, Norman. Tell me.’
‘I … you don’t need … to know …’
‘I do! Because otherwise I don’t know you and I’m not spending the rest of my life with someone I don’t know.’
‘What? Who said …’
‘I’m saying, Norman. You think I’m only here for giggles? What’s your plan for us then, if it’s not that? Might as well tell me now.’
‘Jesus, Trish, I haven’t thought that far ahead. But of course … I mean, you’re everything I have.’
‘Am I? Come on then. You know my story. Everything. You know everything about me, good and bad. What’s your story?’
He lay back again against the pillow and closed his eyes, his fists over them.
‘Jesus, Trish, I … I can’t.’
She took a deep breath and got out of the bed. As she put on her dressing gown, she turned around to him.
‘You better find a way, Norman. Soon.’
She went out and closed the door. She stood for a minute, waiting for him to call her back, and when he didn’t, she went into the bathroom and locked the door. Would he ever tell her? Whatever it was, it was locked up so deep inside him, filled so much of him, that he probably wouldn’t even be the same person if it was ever let out. She was afraid of that. She needed to know that the best of him would still be there. She needed to know now more than ever, because she’d lied to him earlier.
There was one last thing about her that he didn’t know.
*
In bed, Norman was staring at the ceiling. A hand crept to his neck, to the bruised flesh that now covered the hole she’d dug in him to save his life. Another scar would cover the whole thing over one day. Now it was still tender and vulnerable. One day it would be hard and tough, like the rest of them. He might be able to forget about it then, as it just became part of him. Or maybe he wouldn’t. Forgetting things wasn’t his strong point.
The images bubbled up from where he kept them, a place as familiar to him as the pocket of a favourite coat.
They’d kept him for over a month in that cell. He got used to the pain after a while. He didn’t think he would, or could, but he did. What never went away was the fury. They’d come for another session with him and his head and chest would almost boil with a rage so deep that he’d wonder that his heart didn’t explode. He’d try and think of something else; scenes from the farm in Cork with Mikey Pat, hurling games he’d played, gigs with the lads, anything at all. But sooner or later all of these would be edged out of the way by that ferocious loathing that seethed inside him. They saw it and laughed and stoked it up even more.
Later on he realised that he’d never be able to make anyone understand what it had felt like to be there each time they came for him. He didn’t even bother trying.
So maybe now it was time to tell someone. Because he did love her. Now it was time, because … because he knew he had to go back and get the bastards. Because it would never fucking stop until he did. Ever.
He turned his head and looked at the door Trish had just walked through.
*
Trish finished wiping her mouth with some toilet roll and flushed it down the toilet. Then she rinsed with the blue mouthwash from the windowsill. She checked the mirror and held her breath against the next wave of nausea that swept upwards from her stomach. She saw her reflection grimace, still not used to it.
It had only started a few weeks ago.