Suzy Suzy Page 19

  Then she said, I’m crap at the conditional.

  Me too, I said, me too.

  Like what’s the difference between je serai and je serais? How would you know which is which? I don’t even know how to pronounce them.

  Beats me, I said.

  She started to cry. I put my arm around her. She just cried there for a bit. And then she said she was sorry and I said it was OK. I took my own tissue from my sleeve and dried her eyes. For two seconds I thought she was going to kiss me which would be idk maybe ew, but then maybe not, but then she didn’t. And we started on our books again. And ten minutes later her dad came home. I heard the front door opening and quiet footsteps. Serena stopped breathing until she heard a door close somewhere else. Probably his office.

  I’m on a new tablet, she said. I’m much better now.

  74

  All the stories we couldn’t tell our fathers. Like practically my whole life. The day he found out about Tony was the worst day ever. Like the absolute worst, even worse than what happened after. I don’t know how it started. These things get leaked. Someone said something at the club or some fucking club. Like, I see your lad is a homo, Mattie boy. Something friendly in a gin-and-tonic press-the-flesh press release in the Green Room of Castlemartin fucking Golf Club. Freedom of information. I know what they say about gay people. It is seriously hard to be around people sometimes.

  I wasn’t there when he found out and I wasn’t there when he got home. When he exploded.

  Like maybe he expected grandchildren or something. Someone he could love in his old age when love finally caught up with him. Or maybe he expected a strategic marriage so he could own the only daughter of an Audi dealership as well as a million houses. Just lately, I think I hated him more than my mother. Only I never knew.

  Then everything happened so fast. Once upon a time I was watching a hawk or a kestrel idk and he was just doing nothing, like he was a baby’s mobile, just hanging in the sky, and then I blinked and he was falling. I know he killed something because I heard it. It was like a micro-scream.

  I was out walking with Holly. I was giving her a grind in the Weimar Republic. I called it my pedestrian grind, because we were getting some fresh air at the same time. I have Weimar nailed. And my phone rang. It was Tony.

  Suzy, can you come home? Like now?

  I could hear something in his voice. Maybe panic.

  What’s the story?

  Dad found out.

  Oh shit.

  Yeah. Like he went ballistic. Suzy I’m scared.

  I had my bike. It was ten minutes from Holly’s house. I made it in six. As soon as I came through the door I could hear my dad shouting up the stairs. A queer! A fucking queer in my family! With a man, a teacher! The whole town knows. Come down here you dirty shite and I’ll straighten you out. Jesus fucking Christ.

  And I could hear my mam crying.

  Then my dad heard me behind him. He turned around and pointed at me. You knew? You knew didn’t you?

  I just nodded my head. I was too scared to talk.

  Jesus Christ the whole fucking family knew! A bumboy? Do you know he goes up to that bastard at night? Do you know where he buys his fucking drugs?

  What bastard, Dad?

  Fucking Bowles. He goes up to Ballyshane. I don’t even want to know what he does to him. LIKE WHAT SERVICES DOES HE PROVIDE TO THAT CUNT?

  My mam came out. She was hiding in the bathroom but when she heard me she got courage. Matt, calm down or you’ll damage your valves. Calm down!

  Fuck my valves! I want that sack of shit down here. I want him to tell me to my face what he is. Then I’m going to throw the bastard out. He’ll never darken my door again.

  I’m calling the doctor, my mam said.

  I heard it in the Golf Club for Jesus sake. In the fucking club.

  I don’t know why she was calling the doctor but whatever she did it couldn’t be worse than listening to this crap. My dad looked at her. Call the fucker, he said, I don’t give a shit.

  Then I heard Tony calling me. Suzy, are you down there?

  Then his door opened. Suzy?

  My father started up the stairs at a run but he only got to the fifth step. Then he stopped. He sat down suddenly. My mam screamed.

  She handed me the phone. Call an ambulance!

  I didn’t know what to do.

  Nine nine nine, she said. Do it!

  But my dad said no, he was fine, he didn’t even have a pain. His voice sounded like there was too much air in. Suddenly I could hear that the whole universe had switched to silent running. Nothing was making any kind of sound, not even the smallest bird. My dad looked a bit bleached out. He came down again. Step by step. He was very quiet and his voice was a bit low. He went into the lounge and sat down and Mam and me went in after him. My mam pulled a stool up and lifted his feet onto it. He looked a bit shocked. He kept saying he was all right. My mam said she would get him a glass of water, but when she was in the kitchen I heard her talking to the doctor on her mobile. Tony came down. He looked terrified. He peeped into the lounge but he didn’t go in. I whispered to him that he should get his things and just go to his boyfriend’s and when things settled down I’d call him. So that’s what he did and my mam let him take her car. And then the doctor came and he examined my dad and he called an ambulance and they took him in and my mam and me followed them in the Lexus, only slower because we didn’t have flashing lights and a siren. And when we got to the hospital they were already prepping him for the operating theatre. And my mam held one of his hands and I held the other. And all that time he didn’t say anything. And his eyes just moved around very fast but not as if he was looking at things. More like a bird idk. I was scared tbh. And my mam said she loved him and then I did too, although I can’t be sure that I meant it, and all I wanted him to do was say it back, and say he loved Tony too. But he never said anything.

  75

  The only house my dad didn’t let was Clarinda Park. After the funeral we had to clear it out and there was a locked cupboard. I was scared. My mam got a hammer and chisel and chiselled out the lock. She was good at it. Who would have guessed. It was a Saturday and the air was grey with water, not rain, just some sort of wet airy stuff that made it hard to breathe. The cupboard was full of clothes. I recognised the ratty old cardigan he used to wear before Mam bought him a V-neck cashmere sweater, which he then wore like forever. It looked like everything old ended up here. Even a pair of golf shoes. Mam looked at me. I think the look said: What am I going to do now? Or maybe it was: Did we ask for this? Idk I can’t read other people. I’m so wrong so often. It’s hard enough to know what to do with dead people’s clothes, but what are you supposed to do with dead people’s dead clothes that they kept from a previous life? I could smell my dad. It was an all closed-up smell, Dad’s old clothes mixed with IKEA-wardrobe-smell and stale-golf-club-grass and sadness. It was old people sad. It was the worst kind.

  I cried.

  My mam got some plastic bin bags and we started to put the things into it. At the very back behind everything there was an envelope with an iPhone in it. It was powered down. We turned it on but it was password protected and it wasn’t Dad’s usual. Then at the very bottom, stuffed into a sock, was a pair of panties. My mam asked me if it was mine. It was too small for her, she said. Like how would I know? I have a million panties. And basically panties are panties. There’s only like ten different kinds. But why would my dad have a pair of my panties in an old sock?

  My mam told me to go downstairs and put the kettle on. I knew what she was doing. She was worried. She wanted to empty the rest of the place on her own. So I made the tea and brought her up a mug and she was sitting on the bed trying passwords on the iPhone and crying. I sat down beside her and hugged her.

  Mam, I said, he always had two phones.

  I know, she said, but they’re both at home in his desk.

  76

  I kept the panties. I googled them. Byzance thong lingerie range b
y Simone Pérèle brand. The advertising is barely literate. Byzance thong an elegant and innovative for every demanding women. A Byzance line especially conceived for their easiness to wear their comfort and excellent support. Thirty-nine euro. Like my expensive panties are Marks & Sparks three-in-a-pack sort of fake silk idk whatever they make fake silk out of. But these have lace in the front, a lot of lace, like lace almost all the way down ^_^. Their easiness to wear. And maybe easiness to take off.

  I wondered if Miss Morocco wore thongs.

  I tried them on which was ew frankly but they were size small and I’m medium. So they definitely were not mine.

  The Lingerie Rooms are the ultimate destinations for all your lingerie, hosiery, shapewear and swimwear needs. Choose from over seventy brands with many exclusives. We have expert lingerie fitters across all stores who will ensure the best fit, ultimate comfort and tailored solutions, so you feel fabulous whatever the occasion.

  I wondered about a career as lingerie fitter in one of the lingerie rooms. I looked at some of the models and wouldn’t mind helping them fit their panties and bras. Helping her to feel fabulous no matter what the occasion. I got quite into googling lingerie. I missed Dad. I could have sneaked one of his cards and bought a few on Amazon.

  I didn’t tell Mam. She was still trying to work out how a pair of my knickers got into Dad’s sock and her best theory is that it happened in the wash.

  77

  Peter came to the funeral. I texted him to say my dad died and he came all the way up. He stood beside me when they were putting my dad into the hole.

  Tom Bowles and his daughter came to the funeral. They were like the couple in the Bible. David and Goliath. Except if Goliath was a woman. Maybe Goliath was a woman idk I’m reserving judgement after the arse up I made about Grace. After the burial, when people started the sympathy business, all forming a single line and approaching the bereaved, namely us, Tom Bowles shook hands with my mam. I could see he didn’t know what to do. Like definitely all the priest stuff was news to him. I said to Serena, Ghost writers probably don’t do funerals. But she didn’t see the joke. He shook my hand too and he winked at me. Can you even do that at a funeral? And then his daughter shook my hand and idk I thought she held on to it a bit long. But it was OK. Maybe. Anyway she was way too tall for me. Then she shook hands with Serena and Serena said she wasn’t related to the deceased and the daughter just blushed.

  Holly came to the funeral. Only for Holly. She is the best. She held my hand like it was made of glass. She would never break it.

  Even Miss Morocco came. I saw her at the back of the crowd, a little piece of grace and calm way out by the railings. She had her baby in a sling. I wanted to talk to her. I wanted to ask her about my dad. Like did he have a good side? But families of dead people have a duty to stand at the edge of the grave until the whole shaking hands thing is over. By then she was gone.

  My mam never cried the funeral.

  I made up for her though. Holly gave me tissues. And Serena was totalled. I whispered: Get a grip, Serena, FFS he was MY dad not yours.

  And she sobbed out loud: I’m sorry, I’m sorry.

  FFS.

  People were probably thinking: Did someone die on her too?

  I always cry. I cried John Brown’s like shit and I cried my grandad’s.

  Serena is as white as the snow. I don’t know why I love her but I do. I thought she was the one who would die first. She is so thin I don’t know what’s holding her up, even if she has bones any more, and her eyes have that greyed-out look like ashes. Tbh she looks like a biter from the Walking Dead. She cried when she saw me crying and we hugged and hugged. She still does not look pregnant and idk which is better to be pregnant and her dad will kill her or to think being pregnant is better than being Serena all alone. Then my mam announced that there would be refreshments at the hotel and Serena whispered to me, I’m getting morning sickness bad. And over her shoulder I saw Dan Kelleher the auctioneer in his Crombie overcoat, standing at the very back. And I started to wonder, who would the Revenue employ to sell my dad’s houses? And I wondered if he’d get Castlemartin now. Now that my dad wasn’t pissing on him any more.

  78

  And there was like a funeral party in the hotel. On the way there in the back seat of idk a funeral car, like a funeral car is also a wedding car, my mam put her arm around me and said we all needed to stick together, we’d manage. I didn’t want to kill her any more. Enough death already my conscience said to me. She still had her job, she said, and Computing Solutions was being very good. She had funeral leave or something. We would manage. Maybe she always loved me, who knows. I never know anything in my family. And tbf I don’t think she hates me. Not really. It’s just I’m some kind of a disappointment to her.

  I’ve been to three funeral parties now and they are all the same except John Brown’s was a trillion times sadder. The hotel puts up a table with sandwiches, usually ham and maybe smoked salmon. I assume the bereaved family is shelling out for that – we the bankrupts in this case. Everybody buys drink which is where the hotel scores. And first people are sad and they talk quietly, but after the second drink happiness breaks out. In one hour everyone is chatting about their holidays or their grandkids or the ponies or the match. People tell jokes. If it runs late someone will sing ‘The Rising Of The Moon’ or ‘The Boys Who Beat The Black And Tans’. Everybody feels good about beating The Black And Tans. Like they are everybody’s love-to-hate historical persons, next to Hitler. At least where I live. But we don’t have any songs about Hitler in Ireland.

  But all the people who actually did those things and fought those fights are dead. My grandad knew them. Now all that’s left is the Gobshite Party, never mind what colour. My grandad used to say the old fighters would have put the present government against a wall and plugged them. My grandad used to say plugged. Aw I miss him.

  Peter was the most popular person in the room. Everybody said wasn’t he great to come so far. He was offering to deliver turf and people were interested. Or they were pretending to be interested idk.

  I went to the toilet and rang my brother. I told him I missed him and he should be here. He said: Listen, Suzy, Dad was a shit, I was never good enough for him, he totally hated me, I think he knew I was gay before I did myself. Maybe even when I was a kid. And he fucking despised me, right? Don’t lie about it, Suzy. He just hated me. I’m trying to get myself together and if I never remember him again it’s all the same to me. You were always his favourite, it’s easy for you, girl.

  That just made me cry again. I just kept saying, I miss you, I miss you.

  Eventually someone came in and went into the next cubicle and I had to hang up. And whoever it was, they didn’t come in there to pee either. And when I came out it was evening. There was a bloody sunset, clouds streaked across it. I thought of all the things we had done to our bodies, Serena and Tony and me. My dad too. Holly is the pure one. The world is possible because she exists. I have the darkness on me.

  79

  Mam asked Tony to hack the Clarinda Park phone but he said the FBI couldn’t hack an iPhone so how could he. He took it away with him. He brought it back three days later and told us he couldn’t do it. He told us that Páraic suggested we take turns guessing the password. It was the only way. Like we needed a secondary school teacher to tell us that. Mam said she already spent hours trying to guess it. Tony said the same. Then they looked at me.

  Like I didn’t know his old passcode.

  My mam walked across the kitchen and put the phone into my hand. I pressed the home button. Enter Passcode. I put my birthday in. I tried it several ways. It didn’t work.

  I took it up to my bedroom and started putting in random passcodes. I texted Holly about it. She said the combinations were probably in millions. Like where does Holly get this information? She said I should try my Dad’s numbers – birthdays, bank numbers, car numbers, telephone numbers. So I started trying any that I knew. Later she texted me that her
dad said I should try my friend’s birthdays.

  Me: WTF??? My dad doesn’t even remember my friend’s names.

  After I sent I remembered I should have said didn’t. I cried of course. I cry ffs what’s new. I missed my dad. Like idk why, he was having a fucking affair, he was hiding some woman’s knickers in his sock, he bankrupted the family idk I shouldn’t fucking care. Sometimes I think I hear him in his office. On the phone he was always half-shouting. He didn’t get discretion even though he was always plotting some stupid deal. Sometimes I wake up at four o’clock in the morning and I can hear someone down there. It might be my mam. She misses him too.

  Holly: Don’t shoot the messenger lol.

  So I tried Holly’s birthday. It didn’t work. I texted her. Not you anyway.

  Holly: LOL didn’t expect. Did you get fourteen out?

  Me: Nope. Think there’s a mistake in the book.

  We were talking about Maths.

  Our Maths book has like a mistake in every problem. Or every second one. It would go: A normal distribution has mean –x 45 and standard deviation 5. (i) Find the range within which 72% of the distribution lies. (ii) Find the range within which 90% of the distribution lies. (iii) What percentage of the distribution lies within 3 standard deviations of the mean? And the fucking answer to (i) would be outside the given range. Ditto for (ii). It’s like it was written by a government economist. One of those guys who is surprised that the arse fell out of the world one fine night when he thought the Celtic Tiger Would Last Until The Day Of Judgement. It’s like our textbook is a prophet of the Armageddon to come. No matter what your numbers tell you, it says, the answer will be a disaster.