Better Than Burroughs

The Next Day
Marina

“Try and keep as still as you possibly can while inside,” Sharon the attendee says, laying a think blanket over my bare legs. “You said you’ve done this before, right?”

“Yeah, a few times,” I smile, knowing the routine. MRI’s are one of the most boring things that someone can do. You have to lie in a tube for what seems like hours and you’re not allowed to move lest you ruin the image. My original appointment with the doctor was at noon and it’s now five o’clock. The man turned out to be nice enough. He was really optimistic and sent me to the medical center next door for an MRI. I know that nothing will be found. Nothing is ever found. I have migraines, that’s it. I don’t even know what they keep looking for. Every time I do this, I’m scared that they will find something. It’s just as scary, if not more so, that they never do.

They always keep these places so cold and the blanket is definitely needed and appreciated. My legs are freezing and this hospital gown they have you wear doesn’t do much against the air conditioner, although they always have been comfortable. I’m not giving it back. I should get something in return for this. I’m taking the gown. When they send me back to the little dressing room, I’m not leaving the gown. I always plan on taking it but when it comes down to the moment, I’m always paranoid that they’ll know. No more paranoia.

Sharon hands me the foam ear plugs and runs through the general facts about how long it will take and what to expect. When she’s through, she fits the plastic piece over my face and I feel like Hannibal with this thing they have me lay my head in. I put the ear plugs in and after a few seconds, the tray I’m on slides back and I slowly enter the long tube. Something about these things always makes me want to sleep. If it weren’t for the racket, I probably would.

Stupid Callum and his stupid insistence that I go see the doctor. I feel a warm flush at the thought of him. I was dead set on seducing him last night and was doing pretty good, but then he turned it on me and I freaked out. I really didn’t expect him to say what he said. I should have expected it from him, but I didn’t. I have never had phone sex before and last night was really close to it. If I had done what he said, and I almost did without thinking, it would have turned into a very rousing session of sexual expression. And maybe I should have let it but I want to really have sex with him before we do the watered down version. I want everything to be new for me. Maybe I’m conventional.

The noises of the machine begin and I concentrate on not moving. My hands end up falling asleep and I completely forgot about this torture. They always fall asleep on me. While I try not to move, I try even harder not to think about Callum. I try not to think about his hands or the way he looks at me, his voice and the words he says. How he makes me feel so safe and loved somehow. Most of all, I try not to think about sleeping with him and just how good I know he can make me feel. It obviously just isn’t working.

Two Days Later
Callum

I woke up early. Too bloody early. I don’t even look at the clock as I stumble from my room. The house is fairly dark, meaning that the sun hasn’t quite made itself known. Walking into the kitchen, I squint my eyes at Deaglan, who for some ungodly reason, is awake and reading something on the sink. He’s skinnier than I. We were both pretty lanky kids, but where I sort of built up a bit, he stayed that lanky shape. I grin at his tattoo, remembering what it looked like when he was first getting it. It took a few trips to the tattoo parlor to finish it. Deaglan had a pretty nasty allergic reaction to the ink. It was fucking foul. Red and puffy. He was hell bent on finishing it though and I’m glad that he did. I took off before I saw the finished product. It looks good. All black and very sketch-like. It looks amazingly like the original, like da Vinci’s Study of a Womb. I remember when he first told me of his plans and I had asked him why that, why that sketch. He said that women gave life. Men could never do something that amazing. He wanted to always recognize how irreplaceable and vital women are. What a sensitive prick. ‘Specially since he was only a soddin’ eighteen year old at the time.

“What the fuck are ye doin’ up?” I ask him as I drag my feet to lean against the counter beside him. He’s reading an issue of Rolling Stone.

“I just woke up,” he shrugs. “What’s yer excuse, Spud?”

I don’t answer. Instead I take a beer from the fridge and an orange from the fruit basket. After peeling the orange, I take my breakfast to the counter and sit down on one of the stools.

“Isn’t it a just a wee early ta be drinkin’?” Deaglan asks, the magazine forgotten on the counter.

“I don’ adhere to alcohol restrictions.”

“Ye releasin’ em today?”

I suck on an orange slice for a few seconds before I slowly nod my head. I guess today would be the day. It’s as good as any other. I look over at the two twin silver boxes resting on a small table besides a fern. There’s a part of me that doesn’t want to do it. It’ll be so god damned final. But I’ve had plenty of time to deal with this and I’d be a complete git to put it off after so long.

Dad’s ring feels strange on my finger. Heavy and light all at the same time. I’m just not used ta wearing rings. I had never thought to ask him where it came from. I’d like to know now. I don’t know if it’s somethin’ that’s been in the family or if he and mum just got it for the wedding. The man was so blatantly Irish, it’s hard to think that he just picked it up at some shop. He told me once what it all meant, I remember that much. He and mum were havin’ a tiny row, nothing serious, and he told me that the ring would end up killing him. I think I may know what he meant.

Deaglan’s friends may have been complete wankers, but they were considerate enough to not steal mum’s jewelry. She had been buried with her wedding ring, the twin Claddagh that matches me dad’s, and that damned necklace she always wore. A whale’s tale. The edges of the tail are sharp and I remember poking them against my finger when I was a kid. She loved the ocean. We all did.

Deaglan notices my spinning dad’s ring around my finger and motions to it, “Ye look like him, ye know?”

I derail that subject and move it to Deck himself, “Fuck, me parents adored you. Quite sickening actually.”

“Yes, well. I needed it.”

I lay an assuring hand on Deck’s back, knowing that he was closer to my parents than he was to his own. I know it was all hard on him as well and I know for a fact that I was too bloody selfish to recognize it and act on that recognition. I was a cunt. Looking up at him, I’m somber and as serious as I can be, “I apologize for bein’ an insensitive prick. I shouldn’ve left ya behind like I did.”

“I forgive ya. Though there were a few months in which I wanted ta smash in yer bloody kneecaps,” he jokes and he’s probably actually serious to a certain degree. “Honestly though, lettin’ me stay here, I wouldn’t ‘av wanted ta go anyplace else. That was your thing, Callum. It wouldn’ve worked for me.”

“I don’t even think it worked for me,” I comment, drinking some beer and wondering why I didn’t buy anything stronger.

“Sure it did. Yer gonna be just fine, Spud,” he wraps an arm around my shoulders and gives me a tight squeeze. I lean against him a bit and think how quickly this could easily just turn sexual. It’d be full of mirth, “It’s too bad I don’ fancy you cause it’d be an easy partnership.”

Deck sighs dramatically, “I’d shag me too.”

He nods over at the boxes, “Wan’ me ta be here?”

“Definitely.”

“Davy Byrne’s afterwards?”

“Definitely.” I love that place and I’ll definitely be lookin’ ta get good and intoxicated tonight.

“I’ll even need somethin’ after today,” Deaglan says.

---

The weather is perfect and I missed this scent. The ocean and that unique taste on the tongue. Something so god damn familiar that I don’t even notice it at first. It just feels right. Settled. I’m mentally preparing for leaving and going back to the States. There’s a part of me that really doesn’t want to do it. Just does not want to leave this place again. This is my home and I hate the thought of leaving again. I promised and I know that I have to go back. But for how long, I don’t know. I belong here and I don’t know how that’s going to work. I finally figure some shite out and now it’s doesn’t fuckin’ matter a tick. I have to think about another person and it’s a pain in my fucking arse. I adore the lass but do I want to move her here? Honestly. Do I really think that we’ll work enough to drag her to Ireland? The idea seems asinine. We haven’t even been carnal with one another. My fault, sure. But I know that I would be a complete and utter git if I tried to lie to myself about her importance.

Leaving the house and remembering to take the bunch of flowers with me, I walk over to the edge of the cliff. Peering down, I spot Deck down by the rocks and I find the old pathway leading down. It takes me a good seven minutes to get down there and I didn’t slip up. I used to slip up on the rocks all the bleedin’ time. Going barefoot is actually the best way to handle the terrain. I slide down the side of an especially large rock and land right behind Deck. The tiny landing is just big enough for us to stand comfortably. He hands me a screwdriver and we both sit down, our legs dangling off the side and I pick up a box from the ground. The water is a good twenty feet drop and it’s close enough. I lay the flowers down behind me and stare at the box.

“This is weird, huh?” Deaglan mutters, his attention focused on the task of getting the bottom of the box unscrewed. I turn my box over and it’s mum. Her name is etched on smoothly. Anise. She told me that she hated her name as a wee one. She didn’t think it was beautiful enough. I’ve always found it to be beautiful but it wasn’t the name, it was her that I found so bloody gorgeous. She made that name exotic.

“You ‘member that bird nest you saved?” I ask, making sure that the screw I just picked out is deep in my pocket.

Nodding his head, he laughs, “Anise put it under a heat lamp for me. I really thought those lil buggers were gonna hatch.”

“So did I.”

I don’t know what made me think of it, the nest. It had fallen out of some tree, we assumed. I had almost stepped on it and Deaglan knocked me out of the way. I was ready to kick his fucking arse before he pointed it out. They never hatched. We were devastated but especially Deck. He was morose for a week after that. Mum took us over to this aviary and we spent all day there, lookin’ at birds. I bite my lip to keep from crying.

Once the bottoms are off, we take the bags out and the fact that I’m holdin’ her in my hands does not go unnoticed. The ashes are startling ashlike. I expected something more. Something grander. Instead, it’s just a bag of ash. Deaglan’s starin’ at his bag of ash, dad, in the same way.

“This is sort of horrifyin’,” Deck mutters. We make an awkward trade and untie the bags after a minute.

“Should we stand?” I ask, not sure what the correct protocol for this is. Deck shrugs and I stand, he follows after. I sigh in thanks when I feel the wind hit my back. The last thing we want is to have my parents blown in our faces.

We hold the two bags together and inch closer to the edge. Without saying a word, we slowly tip the bags. At first, barely anything comes out, we tip farther and ash floats into the air weightlessly. The wind picks it up and the air is fogged with ash. The water is crashing against the cliffs below us and my parents make their way, dancing to the surface. Deaglan leaves the bags in my hands and bends to get the flowers. All the random flowers we found. A bit of everything.

The bags empty and I can barely see the ash on the water. In seconds there’s no trace of anything. They’re completely gone. Swallowed. Deck hands me some flowers and I set the bags on the ground, keeping a foot on them so they won’t blow away. Silently, we throw the flowers down into the water and they too, get swallowed up.

We sit back down and I pull a length of rope out of my pocket. I found it in the yard and figured I may as well tie the boxes together and throw them in the water as well. Although if I had really thought this through, I would have drilled a hole in each box so I could really tie them together. Instead, I have to just hope they stay together long enough to sink in the same general location.

Pulling at the boxes once the rope is secured, I figure that it’s good enough and throw them down, making sure to clear the rocks. They bob about for a few minutes, the waves throwing them around, until enough water fills them to fully keep them underneath.

Deaglan and I must sit like this for what seems like hours. Just sitting and watching the water, watching for some sort of sign that we did good. Or maybe that’s just me. I realize I’m crying and I don’t bother to hide it. It’s finished and they really are gone. I feel so alone without them. Glancing over at Deck, he looks absolutely miserable. I’d say that it’s time for some alcohol.

That Night

Davy Byrne’s is loud and packed, just as it should be and always will be. Granted, the place is a tourist hot spot, what with its Joycean connections, but I don’ give a toss. Great food, great drinks, lovely atmosphere. The stain glass dome is gorgeous and somethin’ I’ve been staring at for ten minutes. I’m not pissed yet, but a wee bit tipsy. Deck on the other hand, is completely gone. All that time not drinkin’, he’s completely lost all sense. He was never a drunkard, not sure why he gave up drinkin’. Must not have had a good enough reason to drink till now.

“Deck, Deaglan, mate, ye should come back and stay with me for a bit. I’m gonna miss ye,” I say, righting my head and looking across the small table at him. His stew is almost gone and he’s got a finger in his mouth, rubbing along his teeth.

“Afraid ta live with a girl?” Deck’s mocking is muffled with the finger in his mouth.

“Absobloodylutely!”

“When’s the sendoff?” he asks, taking his finger out of his mouth. “How many do ya have? Teeth. How many?”

I run my tongue over my teeth, slowly counting, losing count and then counting again. “Thirty-two?”

“Fuck me! I only ‘ave thirty.”

“Got your wisdom’s out?” I ask, pointing at him. He smiles widely and nods his head.

“Indeed I have. You’re a right loony for still havin’ ‘em.”

“Bullocks,” I dismiss with a wave of my hand. I’m not havin’ my fucking teeth ripped out unless they start ta fuck with the rest of the little buggers. I’m out of my beverage of choice so I get up and squeeze my way to the bar.

When I sit back down with my new beer and some chocolate fudge cake, Deaglan has collected two women. Short squat little things. Cute birds, very cute.

“Here he is! Jen and…Christy was it?” when she nods her head, he continues. “This is me brother, Cal Godard.”

I shake their hands and immediately am hit with their blatant California girl accents. Tourists, no wonder how he got them both so quickly. He’s helpin’ feed their delusion that all men in Ireland look like actors and act like musicians.

Standing on either side of Deck, they giggle at his flattering remarks and I can’t help but smile at my best friend. One of them, the brunette, Christy I believe, makes a comment on the pub’s history. She has some details backwards and Deck launches into a history lesson. He doesn’ miss one bit and even ends up tellin’ ‘em about James Joyce’s other Irish haunts. I am not givin’ them a soddin’ tour. He better not offer one. I’ll bloody well leave tonight if he even tries that shite.

“Have the two of you even gotten carnal?” he asks me suddenly, bringing back the past topic of Marin and I.

“I don’ think you need ta know anythin’ about that.”

“So tha’s a no?” he laughs.

“Tha’s a big fuckin’ no.”

“What do you two think about this sorry ponce?” Deaglan asks, looking up at the two girls at his sides. “He’s got this gorgeous specimen back in the states, who he is completely lost over, as she is him, and he’s too scared ta do anythin’.”

“I think I liked ye better sober,” I frown, completely uncomfortable with these ladies knowing my personal affairs.

“I don’t know, talk to her about it?” Jen suggests with a shrug. Big help Jen, thanks ever so much for that pearl of wisdom. I smile up at her in a thankful manner and silently eat my chocolate cake. The girls end up finding a few chairs and squeeze in at the table. I could be a tad nicer but they only remind me of Marin and how much I miss her.

Christy is quite the friendly one and pretty knackered. Her friend seems pretty normal, despite an annoyingly high-pitched laugh and inane commentary. I keep quiet as they talk about their big Irish vacation.

“Do you guys know Colin Farrell?” Christy asks suddenly, her eyes wide. Jen looks to us expectantly.

“O’course. All Irish know each other,” I let slip tonelessly. Christy doesn’ really catch on, sadly enough.

“I would love to meet him, he’s my favorite.”

“The thing is, the poor wanker has had a few crazed loonies after him cause of this bastard,” Deck says, pointing at me. “We can’t let you in on his place of address.”

When they look at me, I shrug and Jen smiles. I don’ want ta be here with these girls. I don’t have any interest in charmin’ them as I would have done in the past. I’m actually a bit annoyed Deaglan snatched them up to begin with. I didn’t want to deal with this shite tonight.

“Do you guys really know him?” Jen asks. “Do you know Ewan McGregor too?”

“He’s quite Scottish,” I inform kindly and she waves it off.

“With a shockingly beautiful singing voice,” Deck adds cheekily.

My cell phone rings and I pull it from my pocket to see that it’s Marin. I feel terrible when I press the button on the side to shut the ringer off. I’ll call her when I get home.

“That your curvy lass?” Deaglan asks with a smirk.

“You’re not exactly helpin’ me with my plight,” I say, throwing a piece of balled up napkin at Deck’s face.

“This is helpin’. I’m helpin’ by telling ya that you’re bein’ a complete pussy. Honestly, what’s the problem?”

“I appreciate your odd words of encouragement, but I don’ wanna talk about this right now. Wait till I’m sober,” I say, really not wanting to make any sort of decisions while knackered. Sure, there’s a possibility they can work out. But I can’t take the chance that I decide somethin’ terrible. Besides, with these girls here, I don’ feel like baring my heart.

Deck nods, “I’m holdin’ ye to it.”

---

I call Marin when we get back home. Deaglan passed out immediately, or almost immediately. There was a small period of time in which he gave me a speech about Mel Gibson makin’ him wish he was Jewish. I think Gibson’s lost himself another ticket buyer. After his miniature rant, he spread out on the small couch and fell asleep. I found that I was exhausted but I still wanted ta talk to Marina. I don’t really have the capacity to follow a real conversation so I’m just listening to her and she seems content with the setup.

“I love this movie. Bridget Jones is splendid. Colin Firth is from top to bottom sexy,” she babbles on and I think about commenting on the British actor but I don’t.

Completely naked, I floss while she talks, turning the speaker phone on and setting it down on the counter top. I brush my teeth as she moves on to tell me about the porcelain dolls she had as a kid, about how they scared her but her mum loved them and thought she did as well. I bring out the mouthwash as she moves on to the stuffed animals that basically took her bed over. I plan on fallin’ asleep on the phone. I wan’ her ta talk me ta sleep. I need the comfort of her voice. I lost me parents all over again today.

“Did you go to that appointment?” I ask, interrupting her. She’s never mentioned it and she better’ve gone.

“Yes Callum, I did. And it was fruitless.”

“Nothin’ came of it?”

“I got an MRI, the results haven’t been called in yet, but I’m expecting a severe lack of fruit.”

“Regardless, thank you for going. I know it wasn’t somethin’ ya wanted ta do.” If only she could see my face, she’d swoon.

“I didn’t do it for you,” she insists. She better not’ve done it just for me. “What did you do today?”

“Deaglan and I did some drinkin’ and I ate cake,” I say, purposefully avoiding all talk of what I did before hand. It’s not that I don’t want her ta know, it’s more that I want her to hold me when I tell her. I don’t wanna talk about it until I can feel her against me.

“I thought he didn’t drink.”

“He’s not an alcoholic, love, he jus’ chose tonight ta get a bit pissed.” I don’t want her to get the wrong idea about him. Sure, if I had told her about spreading the ashes, she would probably be able to understand immediately why we went out drinking.

“I know he’s not an alcoholic, just wondering if there was some sort of big event that brought on the decision,” she comments lightly, completely fishing for information.

“Just an average night. How’s your movie workin’ out for ya?” I change the subject and she seems alright with it. She sets into a detailed account of the story line and I end up knowin’ far too much about a movie I couldn’t give two fucks about.

“You’re pretty keen on the foreigners.”

“No I’m not. Not any more than any other normal female. Besides, you’re one to talk, where’s Nick Cave from again? Oh yeah, Australia and the last time I checked, you’d gladly have his love child if it were scientifically possible.”

Ooh, the claws come out I love her all feisty. It’s a complete turn-on. I turn all the lights off and turn the bed down, lying down and bunching the pillow beneath my neck. It’s a wee bit cold but I can’t be bothered to put any clothes on. I set myself up under the sheet and make use of one of the blankets, pulling the rest off the side of the bed.

“I could never deny such an allegation. However, as it is not biologically possible for two men to produce a child out of a sexual encounter, I’d gladly practice with you.”

“That’s so kind of you. You would really do that?” Her sarcasm is not lost on me and I will happily play along. The more she talks this way, the more likely the conversation will get heated. She knows it too. I think I may be a bit too tired for it though. I don’ have the strength.

“Only on the term that at least one night a week, light bondage is involved.”

“And the rest of the week?”

“Spontaneity is key.”

After a few seconds of silence, she says reluctantly, “I don’t know what to say now.”

I laugh so loudly that I have no idea if she’s laughing along with me. I can only hear myself. She’s too fuckin’ cute. Cute. How disgusting of me. My laugh seems to take a lot out of me. I yawn and ask her to talk to me, to say whatever she wants about whatever she wants. She tells me not to fall asleep on her and I don’t promise that I won’t.

Two Days Later
Callum

When I called to alert her of my return, I never got around to saying the words. She was too bloody distracting and she’s trying to kill me. I know it. All breathy on purpose. Fuckin’ pain in my arse. She told me all about her shopping for lingerie, about how she’s spoilt herself on sateen sheets. She likes ta feel it against her bare legs. I’ve been hard for hours and it doesn’t seem to be going away any time soon. The plane feels tiny and maybe it’s just me. No one else seems to be fidgeting around like I am. I don’t have Deaglan around this time to amuse me, not that he was all that amusing on the flight to Ireland. He slept most of the time. Fuckin’ wanker. Although he did promise that he’d come back to the States and visit. I don’ know when, the guy is fairly sketchy when it comes to time tables. I left him a check that he probably hasn’ found yet. I’m sure he’ll ring when he does and call me a cunt.

A perk of the flight, I get this row to myself. The plane isn’t all that filled and I guess I chose a good flight. Although I sort of wish I had a row-mate. It would give me something to distract myself with. As it is, all I can think about is Marin. Her voice, the way her breath hitches in her throat. I miss her hands and her gorgeous fucking face. The way she looked at me and the words she strings together. I’m screwed and I know it. Talkin’ with her over the phone has been torture. Pure hell. I want to touch her so god damn badly that my fingers itch for it. I’m not calling ta tell her I’m coming back. I’m givin’ her no warning. I’m walking in that flat and fucking her. That’s it. Enough with this shite. She wanted to fuck about with me, fine. That was her choice and this is mine. I sound like a soddin’ dog.

My bag is in the overhead bin, which means that I would have to get up to get a book. Instead, I just stare up in the general direction and long for it to come to me. It doesn’t work. Closing my eyes, I lean the chair back as far as it will go, which isn’t very far, and try to sleep. I’ll be exhausted if I don’t.

Literally five fucking minutes into my sleep, the god damn stewardess wants to give me sweets and I just don’t think slumber is in the cards for me. That wasn’t even a bloody catnap. I accept the sweets and inadvertently accepted a chat.


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AN:
Leonardo da Vinci -Study of a Womb

Davy Byrne’s Pub – Pub in Dublin, Ireland. James Joyce was known to inhabit the pub and had a friendship with Davy Byrne. “Dubliners” mentions Byrne. “Ulysses” is also closely associated.