Pack Up the Moon (28 page)

in the shower. One minute she was standing under hot

water, the next she woke up on the floor unable to move. I tried to calm her, but she wasn’t having any of it and I could understand: an accident is bad enough; a naked accident was like pouring salt into the wound.

Doreen remained upbeat. “Sure isn’t it something you can tell your grandkids?” She was smiling at me, sure that her words would bring comfort, but I knew better and when Anne started to cry so did she.

Jim returned and began unscrewing the hinges. “Why don’t you just kick it down,” I asked.

“You want me to kick down a solid mahogany door?” His voice was laced with the smallest hint of sarcasm. “Well, yeah,” I replied.

Anne screamed that he was not to kick down the door. She did not need a door landing on top of her or indeed

a handyman on top of a door landing on her. Doreen reminded her to be calm. With only one hinge to go I insisted on taking over. He complied a little too willingly and I wondered if he was gay With the last hinge removed, I alerted my naked friend that I was about to enter.

“Wait!” she screamed.

We all stood motionless.

“Jim?” she called out.

“Yeah?” he said hesitantly.

“You can go now. Thanks for your help,” she said from the floor.

“Right then,” he smiled and almost ran out the door. Doreen sighed. “Men. Bloody useless.”

I pulled the door over and saw poor Anne arse up and

face down.

“You could park a bike,” Doreen laughed.

She was right. I had expected Anne to be lying flat not bent over and on her knees. It was a bloody awkward position and I wondered how she’d managed it.

“Yes, thank you, Doreen,” Anne noted, not amused.

I covered her with a bath towel and then followed

Doreen’s instructions and we lifted her to her feet. She was still bent forward and Doreen worried that it was a

slipped disc.

We called an ambulance when it became perfectly

apparent that Anne was going nowhere in a sitting position. I dressed Anne while Doreen gave the operator directions. While we waited Doreen interrogated Anne as to the

cause of her accident.

“OK, so you were dizzy. You hadn’t eaten. When did you eat last?”

“Yesterday — maybe the day before.” Anne looked like she was going to be sick but maybe that was because she

was bent forward.

“You must be starving,” said Doreen. “Why don’t I make a sandwich for the ambulance?”

Anne’s sideways glance said it all, but Doreen carefully wiped the hair from Anne’s face and spoke gently to her. “I know you’re stressed and I know you’re having a bad

time but, love, you have to eat — otherwise you end up naked on the floor.”

Anne mumbled something about a yoghurt in the

fridge. I spoon-fed her and we waited. Over an hour later the ambulance men arrived.

Doreen was agitated and didn’t mind letting it show. “It’s a bloody disgrace,” she kept mumbling as the ambulance men lifted Anne into the ambulance. “Is this what we pay

our taxes for?” she asked the young man who was busy trying to inject a muscle relaxant into Anne’s back.

He tried to ignore her, but she repeated the query until he was forced to answer her. “Sorry, missus,” he said.

This seemed to suffice. I thanked her and told her I’d let her know how we got on in the morning.

“No problem, love. See you in the morning for a coffee.”

And then we were on our way to the hospital. The injection meant that Anne could lie flat, but it was obvious she was still in pain.

In the hospital at last and behind a curtain I stood

holding Anne’s hand. She was crying and my heart was bleeding for her. I thought about calling Richard, but then I was afraid that it would only make things worse. When the doctor arrived I was given a respite so I called

Sean and he commiserated and told me to leave Richard

to him. When I returned Anne was drowsy.

“I’ve given her something to help her sleep,” the doctor said kindly.

“Thanks,” I said automatically, realising suddenly that I could do with some sleep. “Is she going to be OK?” I asked as he was leaving.

“Fine, although it looks like she’s torn a muscle. It’s sore but a week’s rest should do the trick.”

“A week,” I repeated just to be sure.

“Maybe two:’ He winked and left.

“Easy for you to say, mate:’

I left Anne asleep in a private room. It was after two a.m. when I got home. I fell into bed and Sean cuddled me close to him.

“Did you talk to Richard?” I asked.

“He was out. I left a message.”

“Jesus!”

“Don’t worry, he’ll be here,” he said confidently. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.”

“She’s starving herself!” I said guiltily.

“She’ll be OK.”

“Do you think it’s ‘cos Clo and I called her fat?”

“It probably didn’t help.” He sighed. “But her real problem is in her marriage.”

“Still, I’m going to kill Clo.”

And then I was asleep.

*

The next morning Doreen kept her word and in so doing

woke me at the crack of dawn. We drank coffee together and she appeared happy with the doctor’s diagnosis.

“A torn muscle is much better than a slipped disc,” she noted before digging into a slice of toast.

“I suppose so,” I said, not really knowing much about either ailment. “I just hope that everything will be OK between Anne and Richard.”

“It’ll be fine,” she said. “Nothing like an accident to remind people what life’s about.”

I thought about her statement for a moment and then

agreed.

“And what about you?” she asked from nowhere. I wasn’t sure what she was getting at.

“Well, Miss Psychic. If you hadn’t insisted that there was a problem and that we hightail it over there, she’d probably still be lying on the floor arse up!’

hadn’t thought about that. “Jesus,” I said.

“Jesus indeed,” she agreed.

“What’s that all about?” I asked.

“Who knows?” she said and then she smiled to herself knowingly.

“John?” I asked conspiratorially.

“Maybe,” she smiled the same smile.

“Jesus,” I said.

She nodded.

“I wish he’d fuck off,” I said wistfully, not sure that I was particularly happy with my ex and his penchant for

sending me on missions of mercy.

Doreen laughed. “Yeah. I know what you mean!’

She left and as I drove to school I wondered if John

really had sent me another message from the grave or was

I just super-sensitive since his passing. Either way, before his death I was never known for my intuitiveness. I also thought about the fact that I seemed to be spending a

large portion of the last two years in and out of the

bloody hospital. By the time I reached the school car park, I was convinced that John had looked down on us. He had seen trouble and he had helped us and it didn’t

freak me out. I apologised to him for my earlier comment. I didn’t want him to fuck off. It made me happy to think that maybe he was still around looking after us and as I

parked the car I realised that I no longer feared life and

death blurring into one. I knew he was continuing, that he was being taken care of, that he was at peace and that I’d see him again in another world, at another time. Sean would be there and Clo, Anne and Richard and we would be fine and for the first time in a long time I

thought about God and His plan and I believed. Noel would have slapped his thigh.

After school I headed to the hospital. Anne looked a good deal better and although she found it difficult to sit

up at least she was horizontal, which was an improvement on the night before. She was pitiful, weak and terribly afraid, and my heart broke for her.

Clodagh arrived, breathless, as she had run out of a meeting to make the strict visiting hours. Richard hadn’t appeared yet which was worrying. Anne was apologising to Clo, worried that in her present condition she wouldn’t be able to be bridesmaid. Clo wasn’t worried. She had full faith that Anne would recover and if she didn’t Tom had

a cousin that would fit into the dress.

Sean had been speaking to Richard daily since the

break-up and it emerged that he, like Anne, felt like the victim and was similarly depressed and mute. Sean tried to talk him into making the first move but it was no good. He was stubborn and so used to her caving in that he felt

it was only a matter of time. Sean had tried and failed to reach him. He had no idea how badly his wife was suffering and it seemed that he didn’t care. As far as Richard was concerned, Anne had walked out on him so why should he care? Sean had tried to explain that relationships were give and take and that maybe he should consider giving in

just this once. Richard called him an asshole and hung up. Sean cursed and blamed me for insisting he interfere.

In the end, where Sean failed, Clo had triumphed. She had a bellyful of it and so two days into Anne’s injury she managed to locate him through his PA. He was in Paris tending to an apartment that he was letting. It appears he

was having problems with the non-paying tenants and he

had decided to evict them personally. She called his hotel

room from my place and told him how it was, as only she could.

“Richard, it’s Clo, don’t you dare hang up. Richard? Right, it’s like this. You and Anne have been together since first year in college. She’s your wife now. You’re apart and miserable and we, your friends, are really worried about both of you. So here’s the wake-up call. You’re a spoilt bastard and you’ve had your own way since forever, but you’re married now and that means compromise. Anne is in hospital, having fainted from starving herself — now I’ll admit I may share the responsibility there but the fact

is that now she’s done her back in. She’s desperately unhappy, in agony and you are supposed to love her. So get off your arse, get home and do something about it. Oh and by the way, from now on check your bloody messages.”

She fell silent and I wished I could hear what he was

saying. After a few seconds she handed the phone to me. “He wants to talk to you,”

I said hello and he asked me if Anne was alright.

“She’s really hurt herself and it could have been a lot

worse,” I said and I believed I wasn’t exaggerating.

I told him that Anne had done everything she could

to try to make him happy and it was about time he returned the favour. I reminded him of the good advice he had given me and I hoped he would accept mine.

Clo grabbed the phone and added, “Don’t be a dick all your life.”

She hung up.

-Clodagh!” I screeched. It had seemed to go well until she called him a dick.

“I’m sick of him,” she noted.

-But for Christ’s sake! Calling him a dick is hardly the best foot forward.”

“We’ve tried everything else and besides a fact is a

fact.”

“Lovely,” I noted.

She grinned. “You worry too much. You’re so like your ma.”

I threw a cushion at her. “I am not,” I said disgusted. I have to point out that I’m not sure why this analogy

upset me, as aside from loving her, I am also very fond of

my mother, but it did.

“You,” I said.

“You,” she countered.

“You,” I furthered.

This line of argument continued until Sean arrived

laden with shopping and a large brown envelope. Leonard immediately jumped down from the window and

followed Sean into the kitchen, desperate to be fed. Sean obliged before returning to the sitting-room lighting a

cigar.

Clo and I looked at him.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Celebrating,” he noted.

“Oh yeah?” Clo asked.

“Yeah,” he agreed.

“Celebrating what?” I ventured.

“My book. It’s being published.”

Our jaws fell.

“No!” Clo said.

I was on my feet. “Oh my God!”

I was so excited I thought about puking. This was something I thought about a lot lately. My stomach was on edge. Still I was extremely happy, delirious almost. Sean was jumping up and down in the one spot. I was clinging on, enjoying the ride.

“That’s incredible,” Clo said genuinely pleased.

“It could be on the bookshelves as soon as Christmas,” he noted proudly while holding me tight.

“I could do the PR!” Clodagh almost screamed. “I’d love to do a book launch!”

I laughed. She was such a media whore. He was dancing and inhaling his cigar and it was forgetting that it was a

cigar as opposed to a cigarette that was to be his downfall. Five minutes later he felt sick.

Clodagh left soon after. At the door I wondered aloud if we had done the right thing in calling Richard. She told me that we had and begged me not to waste the

night worrying when there was so much to celebrate. She was right.

*

Our phone call had worked. Within five hours Richard was by Anne’s bedside holding up the piece of paper that

she’d written “Choose” on. The word, “Choose” had a line through it and underneath was written “You”. It was a real movie moment, but instead of falling into his arms (let’s face it, she wasn’t in a position to) she stood (lay) firm. They had to make changes in their marriage and they would either fix it or walk away. They talked for

hours and for the first time Richard listened to his wife. She articulated all that bothered her and it turned out that

there was a long list to get through. He agreed that he had been a dick and actually apologised. He hadn’t meant to be such a dick and he admitted her fall had frightened

him. He had thought that if he held firm she would come back, but for the first time in his life Richard realised that the world didn’t revolve around him. They talked into the early hours and eventually it was agreed that they would

try to live in Dublin for the majority of the year. Richard was giving in to his wife’s wishes and despite the