Love: A Novel by Roddy Doyle
Author:Roddy Doyle
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Viking
Published: 2020-06-22T23:00:00+00:00
* * *
—
There was a Saturday, one of the last Saturdays, maybe the last. She was there, with her friends and the cello case. She was sitting under the window when we came in. I walked straight into Joe’s back. He’d seen her first. But I’d recovered in time to see her look our way and smile.
And smile.
—Hi, guys, she said.
Guy wasn’t the word it is now. Every waitress and lounge girl will address a group of two or more men as guys, no matter their age, the lounge girl and the men. But not back then. We weren’t guys; there were no guys. We were young lads, boys, men. But only men in American films were guys.
But we were guys now too, apparently. Although speechless guys – we were in a silent film.
I eventually managed a word.
—Hi.
It was me who said it, not Joe. I was the first guy to speak to her. I know that. I knew it then, and I thought I knew its significance. I was the first to respond, so she must have been talking to me.
We kept on going. I followed Joe, down to our end of the bar.
I was the one who had spoken. Mine was the only voice. I knew it then, at that exact time, and it thrilled me.
It seems pathetic. But it’s not – not as I understand the word. We were children when we were together. I was a functioning adult most of the time – all week. But something happened when we were together; joy rushed in and drowned us. Before I met Faye, I experienced happiness only when I was with Joe. I think that’s true. Happiness that could be trusted. Happiness that, somehow, I could measure, feel; it was a thing in my chest. When I was with Joe.
I liked being a boy. I loved being a boy. The rush of it, the rib-breaking ache of it. I’m not sure that I’d ever been one before. I couldn’t be happy at home. I can’t feel it now; I can’t construct it. Because it wasn’t there. I remember once, when I was twelve or thirteen, watching Coronation Street and one of the characters – I can’t remember which; a woman – she said to another woman, ‘You’ll have to fend for yourself.’ I knew exactly what she meant.
I said Hi to the girl I know was called Jessica. And I knew: it might be the end of happiness. And it might be the start of something new. A different kind of happiness. An adventure. A night. A life.
And I ran.
I took a look at her. She wasn’t looking our way. She was listening to one of her friends. She was devoting herself to whatever her friend – another woman; I’ve no other memory of her – was saying. I could hear words but I couldn’t catch meaning; I didn’t try to. She wasn’t waiting for us. I was disappointed, and relieved. I was safe.
I was shy but I wasn’t crippled.
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