Pack Up the Moon (34 page)

“You’re in New York for twenty-four hours and you

want to spend it in my bedroom?” Noel laughed. “I don’t think so. What’s the problem?”

Sean sighed. Of course Noel knew there was a problem, but he had figured that it was someone else’s. Why wouldn’t he? It was always someone else’s problem, just not this time. Noel was looking at Sean with curiosity It was time.

“It’s Laura.”

Noel paled instantly. “What’s happened?” he begged, obviously shaken, fearing the worst.

“She has a son,” Sean found himself saying.

Noel froze. This was a problem he hadn’t counting on having to solve.

“He’s yours!’

Sean couldn’t bring himself to look at Noel. Noel couldn’t tear his eyes away from Sean.

“What?” he said, although he desperately didn’t want him to repeat his previous statement.

Sean guessed as much. “He was one last month. Emma said he’s the head cut off you.”

Noel’s lip began to tremble and his hands began to

shake. He didn’t ask if Sean was joking. He knew people didn’t fly thousands of miles to take the piss. Instead he got angry, so angry his face reddened and eyes hardened. Then he was up on his feet and moving towards Sean, who instinctively rose to his feet to be met by a punch in

the face. He went down, holding his left eye in disbelief. Noel stood over him.

“What are you doing here?” he roared.

Sean was confused to say the least, as he believed that he had just quite categorically stated the reason for his visit.

“Would you rather I didn’t come?” he shouted from the floor.

“This is not your business!” Noel roared while backing away from him.

“You’re right,” Sean said, getting up and brushing himself off. “This is none of my business. I have enough of my own worries.” He’d had enough.

He slammed the door behind him but not before he

heard Noel thud to the floor.

Noel told me later that for hours he rocked back and

forth silently, tears streaming from his eyes. The anger that had so quickly engulfed him had burned itself out

just as quickly and now he was left alone, lost and bitterly regretting his outburst. Sean didn’t deserve that, but I suppose that day he was wondering what he himself

deserved. Was this a punishment? Was it God’s way of kicking him out? He had broken his oath. Who was he to think he could get away with it? And I know that he felt cheated and desperate. It was nightfall before he rose from the ground. He picked up a light jacket and headed out onto the streets. He walked in a straight line, following the street that led him away from his hotel and his new life, unaware of where he was going, but desperate to complete the necessary journey.

My brother was Forrest Gump.

*

Meanwhile Sean sat in the coolness of his hotel bar, full from bar food and sipping on a cool beer. His eye hurt and he could see the waitress checking out his black eye. He was confused by my brother’s response but a tiny part

of him could almost understand it. Finding out you’re a father is a big shock. Then again, if it had been Laura who had broken the news, as it should have been, would she have received the same treatment? He didn’t think so. So much for gratitude. Maybe Noel would have preferred not to know in the short term and even Sean and his sore

eye could admit that it would have been better coming

from someone else. After all, at the end of the day he was just the guy who got Noel’s sister up the pole. It was hardly a qualification to be the bearer of such weighty

news. But he also thought of Noel as a friend and had hoped that Noel felt the same way.

After an hour of mulling it all over in his head, he came to the conclusion that he was disappointed. Disappointed that Noel had reacted to him the way he

did and disappointed that he had reacted to the news of

his own child that way. Of course it was a shock and of course it would jeopardise his plan but this wasn’t about

Noel.

Sean was halfway through his second beer when he

understood the real reason he was disappointed with Noel’s

angry and bitter reaction. He remembered his reaction to his impending fatherhood. He remembered the sheer joy he had experienced, the overwhelming sense of being complete. And sitting in a hotel bar off Broadway with a black eye and a dodgy stomach, he concluded that he would never be like his mother. And in that moment a

weight lifted and for the first time in weeks, and possibly for the first time ever, he was free.

*

Noel walked through the streets of New York for most of

that night. He said he reached Christopher Street sometime around four a.m, and there he knelt on the sidewalk and prayed. I did mention to him that he was lucky he didn’t get his head kicked in, or get robbed or even harassed. But then it would appear that the weird and scary tend to

stay away from the weird and scary. After an hour or so he got up and began making his way back to the

beginning. It was after two when Noel knocked on Sean’s hotel room door.

Sean was packing away his things, grateful for a late checkout. He opened the door to my dishevelled and contrite brother. He allowed the door to swing open and Noel entered while Sean continued to busy himself with

his packing.

“I’m sorry.”

Sean turned to him. “I’m sorry I had to be the one to tell you.”

“I know:’ Noel sat on a chair similar to the one in his own hotel room. “How’s your eye?” he asked, wincing at the purple swollen face opposite.

“Could be better,” Sean said, half-smiling.

“I really am sorry,” Noel said, putting his head in his hands.

“It’s not the end of the world,” Sean said with authority. “It might even be a new beginning,” he added a tad limply, not wishing to receive a second blow to the face.

“You don’t think I’m being punished?- Noel asked, shaking his head.

“Do you?” Sean sat on the edge of the bed.

“Maybe. No. Yes. I don’t know,” he said, resigned to the fact that this was a problem that could not be solved

by a night spent on his knees.

“I’d call it a chance,” Sean attempted.

“A chance?”

“You have a son, man,” Sean said smiling, even though when he did his entire face hurt.

“So why didn’t Laura tell me? Why you?” Noel at last asked the obvious.

“I just got lucky” Sean attempted to joke. Noel didn’t appear impressed so he moved on quickly. “You chose the priesthood. She chose to have the baby. She didn’t want to burden you:’

“But you did?” Noel asked, raising his eyes to meet Sean’s.

“Emma found out. She couldn’t keep it from you. If she could have come herself, she would have,” Sean explained as best he could, glad of the chance he had been previously denied.

“I’m so sorry,” my brother repeated.

“Don’t worry about it. Actually I got some stuff worked out and besides it’s good to know you’re not perfect. It was beginning to be a real burden,” he laughed.

Noel smiled nodding his head. “I’m definitely not that.”

“And I’ve got the face to prove it.”

Noel accompanied Sean to the airport. He waited until he was to board. At the gate they hugged goodbye.

Sean took a picture of Noel’s son from his pocket and

handed it to him. He took it and pocketed it for later. That was something he would view alone. Noel handed Sean a letter for Laura. Sean waved as he went through and when he was out of sight the ghost that used to be

my brother turned and walked away.

Dying to See You

I hand-delivered the letter myself. It was the least I could do under the circumstances. Laura was pleasant and offered me tea but during my short visit she didn’t open

the letter. I explained my brother’s shock without mentioning the fact that he had been a bit of a dick. Sean had defended him. However, I was not so tolerant. As far as I was concerned Sean had dropped three hundred quid

on the flight. The least my brother could have done was refrain from punching him in the face. Laura was remarkably calm in light of the nasty situation she faced. She was a hippy at heart and I put it down to that, although I don’t really know why. She was really sweet about my pregnancy, giving me some teas to try and little hints about bringing on labour. She had had Noel Junior naturally, insisting that squatting was a far superior position from

which to expel a child. I tried to smile through her vivid account of the beauty that is birth, while making a mental

note to book my epidural on my next hospital visit. Noel Junior played with a cardboard box in the corner of the

kitchen while repeating a sound that sounded remarkably

like “tosser-over and over again.

“Just ignore him,” she had warned.

I smiled, sipping on tea that tasted like tree bark. “He’s very advanced,” I noted. Being a year old and being able to say something that approached the word “tosser” was no mean feat, even if it wasn’t the most desirable of first words.

She laughed, agreeing, and noting that she herself had walked at eight months. “He must take after you then. Noel was on his arse until he was two.”

She laughed. “It’s a wonder he wasn’t, on his knees,” she said, grinning.

I really liked her. She had a good sense of humour and an inner calm that I was unfamiliar with. It was easy to see why my brother had fallen for her. Aside from her rubbish-tasting teas and an admission that she was a Neil

Diamond fan, she was a real gem.

I wanted to confide that I wasn’t feeling so good. The doctor had dismissed my endless moaning at the beginning

of my pregnancy and now it was a case of the boy who

cried wolf. Laura seemed so understanding, but then again this wasn’t about me. I decided against seeking her counsel and left when it became apparent that she was

waiting for my departure so that she could bury herself in

my brother’s response to the news of a son.

*

Clodagh and Anne arrived later that night to sit and

watch TV and, having succumbed to a number of dizzy spells, it was all I was pretty much fit for. Sean, Richard, Tom and a few of his friends were at a friendly Ireland

match. I had noticed that Sean’s general humour had improved greatly since his trip and mentioned it to do. She however couldn’t give a toss about Sean or his

humour. She wanted to know the secret I was keeping.

“I’m not keeping any secrets,” I denied, going red.

“Emma,” she sighed. “Look in the mirror.”

I didn’t need to. I looked to Anne for support, but it had been a slow gossip week, so she, instead of addressing my gaze, borrowed my usual habit of pretending to pick lint off the cushion. I weakened. OK, I admit it didn’t take much. I was dying to unload myself. I could have sworn the unspoken information was making me feel

fatter.

“Noel’s a father.”

Clodagh nearly fell off the chair. Anne looked at me like I was insane.

“You are having a laugh,” Clo said, more out of habit than actually believing that Noel being a dad would be a

source of great humour. “Laura?” she asked, having an extraordinary ability to remember even the smallest details

of someone else’s private life.

“Who’s Laura?” Anne asked, confused and already a little pissed off.

It was at that point that I remembered that I hadn’t

ever spoken to Anne about Noel and his affair. It seemed only fair that I share his secret with only one as opposed

to many, but in the cold light of this new information that

action was being seen as anything but fair. Clodagh, immediately realising that we had both put our foot in it, became unhelpfully tongue-tied.

“I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone so I only told Clo,” I said hopefully.

“Oh,” Anne said, nodding her head. “Fine.” She was still nodding her head. This was never a good sign.

Clo jumped in. “And she mentioned it to me by accident.”

“By accident?” Anne said, not believing a word of it. “How does that work? Did Emma start off by talking about her day and the words ‘Noel’s shagging someone’ just fell

out of her mouth?”

Clo was stuck.

I jumped in. “Anne, he made me swear not to tell anyone:’

“Yeah, you said. So you only told Clo.”

“Yeah,” I said wearily. I was way too heavily pregnant to deal with this.

“Your best friend Clodagh. Of course why wouldn’t you tell her? But me, well; who am I? I’m just in the background and a supporting role in the Emma and Clo

Show.” She started to get up.

This outburst had taken both Clodagh and me by

surprise and neither of us was prepared to respond. I realised she was leaving.

“Anne, it’s not like that!”

Clodagh agreed but Anne wasn’t buying it. She grabbed her coat. “You know, I’m sick of being the third wheel.” She got to the door before Clo stopped her.

I was still stuck to the sofa, battling to get to my feet.

“What’s wrong with you?” Clo held the door and got into her face, the way she always did in a confrontation.

“I’m sick of you!” Anne roared from a place deep down. “I’m sick of both of you and your little private club!-

“Oh, don’t be so ridiculous, there is no private club,” Clo stated calmly and maybe a little dismissively while still

holding the door.

Anne had had enough. She tried to pull the door, but Clo wasn’t letting her go anywhere, so she crumbled. She burst into tears and sobbed heartily All the previous

aggravation left Clodagh and she stood there utterly

confused by Anne’s desolation. I had at last managed to get off the sofa. I hugged Anne, figuring that touch is sometimes better than talk. I led her back to the sofa and ensured that she sat before I followed. Clo followed us. We waited for Anne to tell us what was really going on.

“The IVF won’t work. Richard’s sperm count is not only low but he has serious motility problems also.”