When Love Comes to Town (22 page)

His dad’s face turned ashen and he stared down blankly at his shoes. His mum sank her face into her hands and started to whimper. The television had been switched off. Neil shifted uncomfortably; he had never seen his parents react like this to anything before. It was as though he had told them that he was going to die. Not even Paul’s motorbike crash shook them as much as this. Then his mum hugged him. Tears were streaming down her cheeks. Even his speechless dad’s eyes were glistening.

“It’s okay, Mum, it’s not the end of the world.”

There was no reply. Neil swallowed the lump in his own throat. He wanted to tell them that worse things could happen. That a fire could burn the house down that night and frizzle them all to cinders. So what was the big fuss?

Then his dad spoke sensitively. “Look, Neil, a lot of young fellows your age are often uncertain about their, eh…their sexuality…But it’s probably just a passing phase.”

“It’s not a passing phase, Dad, I’ve known for ages.”

Neil felt sorry for his father. This was the first time he had ever seen him look so lost. His life’s foundations had been rocked. But Neil braced himself. It was now time to tell them the truth about being beaten up, and more importantly it was time to tell them about Shane.

“Jesus Christ!” His dad slammed his fist down angrily on the small coffee table.

“Brendan.” His mum tried to appease him.

“You mean to say that you’ve been going into those queer pubs!”

“You heard what I said, Dad,” Neil said, averting his eyes from his father’s furious glare.

“And that you and that…that Northern pervert have been—in this house! Jesus Christ!”

Where are you, Jesus? Feel like crying now. They really don’t know me at all. They’re just like everyone else. Feel lonelier than ever before. Even thinking of Shane doesn’t cure it. Better I die now. Make it something quick and painless, a brain hemorrhage or whatever. It’d be a huge funeral. All of Blackrock would be there, and the blokes on the rugby team would form a guard of honor. No one need ever know the truth. Let them keep this secret, let them keep their sweet memories of me.

“Look, I don’t mind you thinking that you’re homosexual or whatever, but no son of mine is going to start getting involved in all this queer carry-on.”

Neil looked at his mum with pleading eyes. But she just gazed at him pitifully and shook her head.

“You shouldn’t have told us all those lies, Neil,” she said.

“I don’t like it anymore than you do,” he stuttered. “But I’m the one who has to live with it. It’s the way God has made me.”

“This has nothing to do with God!” his dad roared.

“Brendan, stop,” his mum pleaded weakly.

But Neil was undaunted. “You don’t know how unhappy I’ve been.”

“Unhappy?” his dad snarled. “What’ve you got to be unhappy about? You’ve got everything laid on a plate for you: Brains. Sports. College. Jesus!”

“But I’ve always been alone.”

“Alone? For Christ’s sake, the phone never stops ringing for you.”

“You know what I mean.”

His dad snorted derisively. “Do I?”

“Please don’t be like that.” Neil’s voice started to waver. “I love both of you, and I hoped that you would stand by me. But if you want me out of your life, just say it, and I’ll go, and you need never see me again.”

His mum started to sob.

His dad got up and stood at the fireplace, turning his back on Neil. “I’m not an idiot, Neil, I know your brothers are living with their girlfriends, and I know that Jackie is probably tucked up in bed with that long-haired boyfriend of hers right now. I didn’t come down in the last shower. I’ve always allowed you all a certain amount of freedom.”

His dad turned around and pointed at Neil, his eyes blazing. “But one thing I’ll never tolerate is that queer carry-on. Never! Ever!”

Neil started to cry. “I can’t help the way I am,” he shouted.

His mum reached out and patted his hand.

“I told you, I accept you as a homosexual, if that’s what you think you are. But I don’t accept any of your homosexual practices. It’s flying in the face of God,” his dad replied coldly.

Neil felt the rage inside him rising. It was like he was talking to a complete stranger. “What’s wrong with you? Why can’t you just see who I am?” he roared.

“I told you, no son of mine carries on that way.” His father was unusually calm.

“Well, whose son am I, then?” Neil was bawling now, and his mum draped her arm around him, attempting to soothe him. “Because I am going to carry on that way. I’m not going to change. I can’t!”

His dad swore before he stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Neil stood up weakly.

“He’s as big a bigot as those bastards who beat me up,” he said, looking at his mum. But she just stared up at him sorrowfully. Now she understood. All those lonely bike rides, all those silences, the stranger in their midst.

“I suppose you’re going to turn your back on me now?” he snapped, uneasy under her stare.

“I’ll never turn my back on you, love,” his mum said. “You know that.”

Neil wanted to snuggle up to her and tell her about all the little inconsequential things he had done that day. He wanted her to wrap her arms around him and shelter him from the world. He wanted her to rub his hair and call him her little man. But he knew from her tone of voice that she hadn’t finished speaking yet.

“But your father’s right, Neil. It is flying in the face of God.”

Neil’s heart sank right to the bottom of his stomach. But his sadness was quickly replaced by anger.

“You’re just as bad as him!” he shouted, wiping the tears from his face.

“Neil, listen to me.”

“The two of you hate me now, don’t you?”

“Neil,” his mum pleaded.

“Well, it’s your problem, not mine!” he yelled and stormed out of the room and upstairs to his bedroom. He tasted the salty tears trickling into his mouth.
Why don’t they ask me how I feel, instead of always telling me how I should feel? Hey Jesus, should I bring Ted with me? That’s everything .All your belongings. Bye-bye, bed. Good-bye, room. Down the stairs slowly, give them their last chance. No sound. Delay in the hallway. Fumble with the latch. C’mon, Mum, at least say “God bless.” Open the door slowly to get the loudest squeak. Still no sound. Screaming inside, but they don’t hear me. Why don’t they understand? Good-bye, house. Close the door gently.

There’s Gary’s wagon of a mother, pretending to water her flowers. Walk faster, she’s standing up. Pretend you don’t hear her. Got to get out of this place. Stop crying, will you? Go through the school grounds, won’t be anyone there. Sundown spreading its last burning orange glow across the sky. Lights twinkling out on Howth Head. What’re the words of Daphne’s song? “Every time we say good-bye…”They’re going to play it at his funeral. Redser told me. Stop thinking about it… Look, there’s some kids playing soccer. Put down the bag. “Hey lads, give us a game. Okay, me and this little fellow against the rest of you. You go in goals, small fry. No, of course I wasn’t crying, it’s from the chlorine in the swimming pool.” Trusting excited faces chasing around, trying to get the ball off you. “Didn’t your mamas ever warn you against the likes of me? It’s Ryan Giggs, he beats one, he beats two, he beats three, it’s there. One nil. I played for Manchester United, you know. Janey!” A gasp of amazement. “You’re going into First Year next year? What’s it like?” “Ah now, it’s a while now since I was in First Year.” Laugh then. “It’s great fun being in First Year, best time of your life, but you won’t know it at the time. Okay, your tip-off. Oh, what a tackle, and the break is on. The keeper comes out, but Giggs sells a dummy and slots the ball home. Two-nil. What about that, small fry? Who’s calling you? Your mum? You better go in. Right, see you, lads.” Off they run, home to their glass of milk, their mummies’ good night kiss, their snug little beds…Pick up your cross. On your own again.

“You’re not leaving us, are you?”

Startled, Neil turned around to face Father Donnelly. “How’re you, Father?” he said with a grin.

“What’s this?” Father Donnelly was pointing at Neil’s multicolored canvas bag. Neil felt his face flushing.
There’s no point in trying to lie to Donno
, he realized.
He can read you like a book, and anyway he’s going to know that you were crying.

“Bit of a row at home, Father,” he said, fixing his gaze on his sneakers.

“Oh?” Father Donnelly was rubbing his wizened chin, as he always did, patiently waiting for the troubled boy to open his heart.

“So I’m going to stay at a friend’s place.”

“A friend in need is a friend indeed,” Donno said, absently pointing across the grounds. “You know, Neil, that tree there is over two hundred years old.”

Neil glanced over at the huge oak tree dutifully, but his thoughts were elsewhere. He knew that Donno always used tricks like this to disarm you, and when your defenses were down, he struck with all the cunning of a python.

“Look at all the colorful flowers growing around the bark.”

Neil nodded. Maybe he wanted the python to strike.

“They’re like the First Years, bright and vivacious. But that disappears all too quickly. And the old oak is left standing there, waiting for the new crop to come along and add color to his life…”

Neil sneaked a look at the elderly priest and he knew that Donno was pretending not to notice his look. He was like an old fisherman, biding his time before he started to reel in.

“Sometimes, the old oak sees a lot more than his flowers think.”

The fisherman had begun to reel in. But the sad fish didn’t fight or struggle. The silent cry for help rang out in the twilight. He broke down and the kindly priest draped his arm around his shoulder. They went inside and all the years of pain and frustration were poured out upon the benign listener. Then the wise old listener stood up and looked out the window as he spoke.

“Neil, there are some things in this life that we’ll never understand. And I’m not going to start telling you what’s right and what’s wrong. But one thing you should always remember. You’re part of God’s beauty, and you have to respect that beauty, both in yourself and in others.”

Neil dried his eyes and drained his coffee. The elderly priest crossed the room and held Neil’s shoulders gently.

“And promise me one other thing,” he said. “Promise me that you’ll phone your mother tomorrow.”

Neil nodded, knowing that he wouldn’t be phoning his house in the near future. But his heart felt lighter. The moon had begun to rise. And as he traipsed through the silvery school grounds, he wondered how Donno would have reacted if he had told him about Shane. He’d probably just say, “Well, Neil, I didn’t think you were going to go off and varnish your nails.”

Neil sat on the steps outside Shane’s flat for over an hour. Crowds on their way into the basement nightclub gave him odd looks as they passed. He pulled the peak of his baseball cap down to conceal his face. One slightly drunk girl stopped and asked him if he was okay. Her boyfriend stood behind her, impatiently shuffling from foot to foot. Neil assured her that he had just forgotten his key and that his brother would be home soon. He liked that, referring to Shane as his brother. But he couldn’t help smiling when the concerned girl warned him to be careful, that a number of people had been beaten up in the area recently.

Around midnight, he saw Shane stumbling toward him with his arm draped drunkenly around another guy’s shoulder. As soon as he spotted Neil, he unwrapped his arm.

“Neil!” He looked surprised, but Neil noticed his smile dim slightly when he spotted the canvas carrier bag sitting on the steps.

“Hi.” Neil was subdued.

“Sorry, Neil,” Shane swirled around drunkenly. “This is Rory, a pal of mine from Belfast.”

“Hiya, Neil,” Rory said.

“Hi,” Neil muttered, barely glancing at Rory.

“We went to school together,” Shane added quickly, sensing Neil’s displeasure.

“A good Catholic school,” Rory said in a funny voice, and Shane laughed at what was obviously a private joke between them.

Inside the flat, Neil felt worse. Shane and Rory talked about their school days, and Shane kept turning his shoulder on Neil, purposely excluding him. Nothing was even said about the heavy canvas bag that he had lugged up the stairs and that was now sitting in the middle of the room, visible to all. And it wasn’t that Shane was hiding anything, because it was obvious that his pal Rory knew everything about him. Neil wanted to leave. But where to?
Go back home and tell them that he was only joking. Too late for that. Sugar’s apartment? Bit more comfortable than this kip, and it’d give that fucker Shane something to think about.
If only Becky were still around. It would’ve been no problem staying in her place. At least he wouldn’t have had to put up with this sort of grief. But there was no doubting it, he wanted to pick up the bread knife and stab Rory. He was a potential murderer as well as everything else.

Forget about yourself for once
, he said to himself.
Join in the conversation. They don’t want me to. Well, just sit there and look pretty then. They don’t know that I’m admiring myself in the mirror. Admiring what? That sulky face? I can watch their faces in the mirror as well. Shane’s face, you mean. Animated in a way that it’s never animated when he’s talking to you. Stop it, that’s not true.

Eventually Rory fell asleep on the sofa and this signaled a change in Shane’s behavior toward him. Suddenly, he was all ears as he listened with concern to Neil’s account of his parents’ reaction. He laughed when Neil revealed that he suspected that maybe there was something going on between him and Rory.

“Even if he was the last bloke left on earth, I still wouldn’t be interested.” It was the old Shane again, and Neil quickly forgot about all his worries.

It took Neil ages to fall asleep that night. His mind was a jumble of confused thoughts. What were his mum and dad doing now? Were they asleep?

Beside him, Shane slept soundly. Neil propped himself up on his elbow and watched his chest rising and falling softly and his face that looked so peaceful now, lost in a dream world. A stranger in the bed with him. Maybe he should go into the kitchen, pick up the bread knife, drive it through that smooth skin, and save himself so much pain.