Gurriers (83 page)

If the angle had been slightly different he might have just bounced off the side of the car without too much injury, but it wasn’t. As the bike smashed into the left front wheel of Imelda Farrington’s Volvo, Paddy’s head smashed through the window of the passenger door, crashing into the side of Ruby Farrington’s head, while his feet carried upwards and over the roof of the car due to the speed his body was still moving at. Paddy’s back and Ruby’s neck broke at the same moment in time, ending her life and changing his forever.

I knew that this was going to be tough in a way that I had never had to deal with before. I had deliberately not visited Paddy for the first week, because I knew that everybody would be clamouring around him, as friends do, with the best of intentions. I would rather not have all of the lads around me when I first visited my crippled friend because of the emotional effect
I expected it to have and because of the strength that I would need to deal with that; a strength I would have to dig down and find somewhere for my friend’s sake. What he did not need was for me to blubber all over him in sympathy.

The corridors of Vincent’s Hospital seemed eerily quiet to me at this time of the evening, mostly because I was used to the hustle and bustle of the place in daytime from delivering there but also because of the ominous scene that awaited me. The echoes of my motorbike boots seemed to precede me down the almost empty corridors with each footstep as if scouting ahead to prepare me for the horrors that awaited me in this very building. I became increasingly conscious with each one of these footsteps, not wanting to be here in this situation but helpless to avoid it, with a little voice in my head telling me to turn and leave, to run away, not to face this. The voice was, of course, ignored. There were situations for burying your head in the sand but this was definitely not one of them. My friend needed me and I was there for him, end of story. My resolve did nothing to diminish the dread, however, and I was physically battling to stop my trembling when I reached St. Joseph’s ward on the first floor, nicknamed the “Yamaha ward” because of the amount of motorbike casualties that passed through it.

Taking a deep breath I pushed open the double doors and forced my feet to carry me into the ward. I scanned the room from one end to the other without seeing him, then went back over it again more closely – realising to my horror that the decrepit looking figure slumped in the wheelchair at the window was the man I had come here to see. My eyes watered instantly and a lump seemed to jump from somewhere in my chest up into my throat; my bottom lip trembled and my knees weakened as the full impact of my good friend’s condition hit home.

“Come on, Sean – grit your teeth and be strong for him,” I told myself.

Blinking quickly, swallowing forcefully and gritting my teeth, I shakily made my way across the ward to where my friend sat dejected in his wheelchair with his back to me. I gently placed my hand on his shoulder and by the force of sheer willpower
made my voice sound almost normal.

“Nice wheels, amigo, but I don’t think they suit you!”

He had been lost in his own reverie and seemed to snap out of it with the touch on his shoulder and the sound of a familiar voice. He spun his head around suddenly and faced upwards to see me. I had been expecting him to look rough, but was in no way prepared for what I saw. My twenty four year old friend could have passed for forty four. His skin was a lifeless grey with yellow tinges, his eyes were glazed and bloodshot and surrounded by wrinkles and stress lines that hadn’t been there the last time I had seen him, which had just been days ago! (This was a massive change in such a short space of time). He was slumped over in a defeated way and his whole life force seemed to have been beaten out of him. It pained me so much to see him that way that I came close to breaking down on the spot.

“Hold back, Sean, he needs your strength.” said the little voice inside me.

“Sean, it’s good to see you.”

I could sees his eyes well up as the man looked at me from his wheelchair for the first time and his lip was trembling so much that this voice trailed off at the end of his greeting. He was at the point of bursting into tears also. He held out his arms and I bent down to embrace him. I could feel the body cast they had him in, as I put my arms around him. I could also feel it as he sobbed on my shoulder. It was no good – I couldn’t keep it in any longer. I let go and tears raced down my face like greyhounds coming out of their traps. I’m sure we only stayed like that for a few seconds but it felt like an eternity. I held him in my arms until I had could stem the flow of my tears, then wiped my face hurriedly as I stood upright, knowing that seeing emotional weakness was not what he needed.

“Well, at least you’re up and about. I was expecting you to be in bed.” It was only after I had said this that I realised that it had been pretty feeble of me, but it was the only positive thing I could think of saying and besides, it had been a surprise for me to see him in a wheelchair already.

“Yeah,” His voice was still shakier than I had ever heard it.
“This is some special sort of body cast that makes it possible.”

“Are ye comin’ out for a spliff?” I had rolled three joints for Paddy – the first to smoke with him and the other two to leave with him.

“Yeah, why not. You can leave your lid here. Seamus will mind it for ye.” He turned his head to address an old man in a bed behind him. “Won’t ye, Seamus!”

The torrent of incoherent words sounded affirmative so I left my helmet on the windowsill for Seamus to guard. I then took up position behind the wheelchair, grabbed a blanket for Paddy and wheeled him towards the lift, becoming overwhelmed by emotion once more as I realised that I would be pushing this cursed chair an awful lot in the future. Life was just so fucking cruel.

Paddy was silent until we reached the garden at the front of St. Vincent’s. By that time I had pulled myself together and wiped my face dry again. I handed him a joint and the lighter.

“Nice one!” he remarked as he sparked it up. I parked him beside a bench and then sat myself down. I racked my brains for something positive to say – anything would do but nothing came to mind. Everything was fucked up for Paddy.

“That’s nice hash. Did you get it off Mick?”

Here I was to cheer up poor Paddy and he was the one coming up with the one little smidgeon of non-negative train of thought.

“Er…yeah, he, er, said it comes from a new supplier but there’s only a limited amount of it.”

“He always fuckin’ says that! The big idea is to get everybody to buy loads of it!”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.”

Come on you gobshite you can do better than this, I thought.

“Well I only took a quarter off him.”

“Twenty five quid?”

“The cheeky bastard asked for thirty, saying I could have a half for fifty but the chop would cost an extra fiver.”

“The chop?”

“Yeah. Apparently there’s more work for him in selling quarters so he wants to charge the extra fiver for them.”

“The cheeky cunt! I hope you told him to go fuck himself.”

“Even better. I gave him twenty five and told him to see Vinno for the other fiver since me an’ him were goin’ halves.”

“Nice one! He won’t try any shit with Vinno!”

“He knows better.”

“Elaine wants to stay with me.”

Having begun to relax into conversation about the universal topic of hash it came as an even bigger shock to be hit with what was really on Paddy’s mind, a topic I had been reluctant to approach since the happiness of his former life had been reciprocated to the pain of his current existence. All I could do was state the obvious.

“She loves you very much, Paddy.”

“She loves what I was – look at me now, I’m only the leftovers of a man. Here.”

I was glad to take the offered smoke, mostly because I couldn’t argue with him. What was I to say? “Cheers. Is there any chance that…?” I let this feeble effort of a statement trail away because it was too weak to finish. Paddy’s spinal cord had snapped and that was that. I felt like a fool for what I had just said.

“No, Sean, there isn’t! I’m in this fuckin’ thing for the rest of me life.”

“Maybe with the advance of medical science-”

“Just don’t try to get my hopes up, Sean, it’s never goin’ to happen.” He was beginning to get agitated with my stupid remarks and who could blame him.

We fell silent as I took a few more drags.

“Here y’go, Paddy.” I passed the joint and it was more of a cop out than anything else. “I’m sorry for saying stupid things.” I could feel the waterworks building up inside me, as guilt landed in on the layers of sympathy and remorse that festered on top of my emotions.

“Don’t worry about it, Sean, everybody tries to cheer me up somehow – human nature I suppose but,” The words were
becoming strained as the enormity of the situation hit home, “there’s nothing on this earth can cheer me up.” Tears were rolling down his face as he finished the sentence.

I was surprised at how I managed to hold myself together this time, determined to make up for my blundering comments. “I’ll get you back inside.” I took position again behind the chair as he flicked the end of the joint away.

The journey back to the ward was as silent as the one out to the garden had been, with Paddy wiping his face from time to time and me constantly battling with my own emotional turmoil in a desperate attempt to muster up the strength to help Paddy through this nightmare as best I could. I parked him beside the window I had found him at, waving back at Seamus on my way past his bed.

After a few moment’s contemplative silence Paddy spoke his mind.

“It was all my own fault, Sean.”

“She pulled out in front of you, Paddy.” At least I got that one right.

“It doesn’t matter; I brought it on myself with a jinx.”

I was dying to ask how, but that’s not what he needed to hear.

“There’s no such thing as jinxes, Paddy.”

His eyes were glazed as he stared reflectively ahead. “It was abou’ six weeks ago. Me an’ Elly were lyin’ in bed saying how much we loved each other. She said that there was nuttin’ on earth could make her leave me. I said…I…” He couldn’t finish but he didn’t have to. He had obviously said to her that the only way he would ever finish with her was if he got crippled, now here he was. My heart never went out to anybody as much in my life as it did for this unfortunate and tragic man.

“Paddy, we all talk to our women that way. Even if there was such a thing as a jinx, that wouldn’t bring one on.”

“Do you reckon?” His tear filled eyes and hopeful tones reminded me of a little boy looking desperately for comfort.

“We always talk about the worst possible things with our lovers. It’s kind of a way to make them appreciate us.”

“I can’t let her sacrifice herself for me, Sean.”

This was too much. He was right and there was no answer I could give him. No options to put forward to him. Nothing. “Have…have you spoken to her about it?”

“She spent most of the last few days here, but I haven’t broken it off with her yet. I…I just can’t find the words. Maybe you can help me?” He was on the point of breaking down again. I never in my life wanted to cry as much but somehow held it in.

“Just, um, just tell her that you love her too much, Paddy.”

“I’m goin’ to tell her the next time I see her. Actually, she’ll be here soon.”

The image of sweet, happy Elaine suffering the misery of losing her man this way was just too much. I couldn’t keep it in any longer and a little silent weep was never going to be enough. I had to get out of there and quick if Paddy wasn’t going to witness me bawling my fucking eyes out. He was already very upset and sniffling as he faced the prospect of pushing the love of his life away from him.

“Just goin’ to the jacks.” I managed to mumble as I skittered across the floor away from him, the first tears of this particular weep already trickling down my cheeks.

I made it to the toilet without breaking down, only surprising one nurse on the process (the surprise being me in full motor-bike gear with tears rolling down my face).

Thankfully there was nobody else there. I clung on to the washbasin and looked at myself in the mirror, as I let go of all that I had been holding back. I wept as I had never wept before, even as a child. The sheer weight of this tragedy was so much that a poem I had written years ago about a girlfriend who had lost her sister, reformed itself in my mind, with the word “buddy” replacing love, as I sobbed convulsively.