Here Are the Young Men (10 page)

Some time later, he heard his parents locking up downstairs and going to bed. Then the house fell quiet, and soon he was asleep.

15
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Kearney

– Dwayne Kearney

To: Joseph Kearney

Email received at 6:23

18/06/2003

wats up faggit?

how r things back in gay ireland? im off me fucking trolly right now so sorry if i talk a load of shite except im not sorry at all u little queer. haha im only messing with u joseph dont be so touchy u faggit. listen joe drop wat yr doin an GET DE FUCK OVER HERE – amerika is unFUCKING beleievable. trust me. im only hear a cuple of days but allredy i never want to go back to shitty ireland again. seeiriously. im working like a nigger but fuck it we slEEp on the job and take coke every day and there is a session EVREY NITE!!! book yr tickets right now nigga!! or wud u prefer to stay in dublin smoking shite dublin hash all summer!!! cos hears de ting. over here i can alreddy get watever de fuck i want. wen i want. theres dis guy called Stu and hes been sorting me out with whatever de fuck i want wink wink nod nod. seerieously yu
hav
to meet him hes a cool moterfucker. and forget them dry cunted irish mingers as well joe. when u come over hear ill have some real wimen ready for ya. cute little bitches man i meen it u wont beLEAVE it. u have to pay of course but u no what dey say – theres no free lunch joe!! except a fuckin dog or sumting. dont take my wurd 4 it come over and sea 4 yrself.

get on dat plane joe!!!

later homes!

yr loving brother Dwayne INsane

PS seeriesly i am off my fuckeng tits here i swere to fucking god. me mate egon says hello. seeriously egon dats his fuckeing name like the bleedin gostbusters. i am off mi fuckenng hed and heres the thing i dont even no the name of wat we took but fuck me joe its fucking great GET OVER HERE!!!!

PS haha jus like Mortel Kombat tho u wudnt no cos yr 2 young u fagget

16
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Rez

Rez woke early and hung about the house for a few hours, trying to read, not knowing what else to do with himself. Around noon he went into town to meet Julie. It was another drizzly, overcast day; it felt like the summer would never begin. When he saw her standing with her hands in her army-jacket pockets on the cobblestones outside Eamonn Doran's, Rez shrugged off the heavy mesh of obsessive reflections he'd been entangled in, enough to offer her a smile. But instantly as he did so, he realized by the look on her face that something was wrong.

He took her hand and they started walking. But after a few steps, as they passed under the archway leading out to the Ha'penny Bridge, she slid her arm out of his and put her hand back into her pocket, muttering that it was chilly.

They wandered aimlessly for a while, saying little. Rez was tense, his mind crowded with grim and painful thoughts. He wished he hadn't smoked that joint on the way to the bus stop before coming in to meet her.

Th
eir wandering led them up O'Connell Street, across the junction and into the Garden of Remembrance, where only the odd tourist stood admiring the mythical-swan statue or throwing a coin or two into the long, low fountain. Inside the walls of the garden it was both peaceful and strangely desolate.

They sat down on a bench. Still they said nothing. Rez was growing sullen, irritated by her distance and moodiness. Julie looked away, watching a young couple who had just walked in, pushing a buggy and laughing together, both absorbed in a funny anecdote the woman was telling.

Then she turned to Rez and said, ‘Listen, I don't know how I'm supposed to say this, but I've been thinking a lot and I don't … I don't think we should be together any more.'

He looked at her in silence, stunned even though he'd been half expecting it.

‘What do ye mean? What are ye talkin about? But … I'm in love with ye, Julie.'

She shook her head. ‘It hasn't been the same for ages. Yer changing. I don't know, I just don't feel good around ye any more. Ye always seem so distant, like yer half in another world, staring off into space all the time.'

‘Look, I know what ye mean, I have been a bit off, but it's just temporary, I've just been worried about a couple of things, there were just some things on me mind. But I'm grand, I'm fine. I promise ye I'll be back like the way I used to be. I promise ye.' A whining, pathetic quality had come into his voice but Rez didn't care; he didn't want to lose her.

But his pleading only had the effect of strengthening Julie's resolve, which had begun for a moment to flicker, as if about to give in to comfort, pity and the lure of the familiar.

‘No,' she said firmly. ‘I'm sorry, Rez. I've made up me mind. I do love ye, but it's just better to be on me own at the moment. It's not you, it's me.'

She
winced, as if embarrassed at having uttered such a cliché.

Rez was close to tears. ‘For fuck's sake, Julie,' he pleaded. ‘What am I goin to do? Ye can't just do it like that. Ye can't. The summer's only after startin, I was just under a lot of pressure with the Leavin Cert and everything. Can ye not just give it another chance?'

Julie looked downcast but she remained resolute. The more he pleaded, the more she hardened against him.

She sighed. ‘Look, Rez, I've decided I'm goin InterRailing with Gráinne and Anne. I know I said I wasn't goin to but I've changed me mind. So it's better I say all this now, okay? I'm sorry, Rez.'

‘I can't believe this,' he said, hands on his knees, looking at the ground. The couple with the buggy walked past, having circled the fountain; they noticed the scene and lapsed into an embarrassed silence.

A while later Julie stood and walked back up the steps and out of the Garden of Remembrance, leaving him sitting there, alone and dejected, as a cold drizzle began to mist up the dull Dublin sky.

17
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Matthew

I got a job on the forecourt of the Shell garage down the road. It was easy work. On my first shift a dazed Ukrainian showed me what I had to do: fill up cars, occasionally go over them with the hose from the washer, and ‘keep an eye on things', whatever that meant. By the second half of the day I was confident enough to get stoned off my face, smoking furtively over by the wall. I imagined a spark from my lighter sending the whole place up, a mushroom cloud expanding across the southside, like one of the videos Kearney was always watching. The wet and dreary weather had returned, which suited me fine. I stood against the wall and listened to the rain lashing down on the plastic Shell logo and the concrete, and when the car headlights came on they left lovely, blurring trails across the grey.

       

I was to meet Jen on Friday. On Saturday she was going away to Spain on holiday with her da – a present for all the study she'd done.

I
hung around the house that afternoon, waiting for her to call. When my phone finally rang, I let it ring three times to show how cool I was. Then I picked up.

‘How's a goin,' I said.

‘Hi.'

‘So listen, where do ye want to meet? We can go see a film, or just hang around, or whatever. What do you want to do?'

She gave an awkward laugh then said, ‘I'm really sorry, Matthew, but that's what I was calling for. I wanted to tell ye I can't meet up today after all. I want to, but it turns out that this is the last chance I have to see Siobhan before she leaves on her trip. I thought I'd get to see her tomorrow morning but –'

‘What about later on, then? Can't we meet in the evening?'

‘No, I can't, Matthew. My dad's taking me and Padraig out for dinner. Part of his big “Thanks for working hard for the Leaving Cert” effort.'

‘Oh,' I said.

In a perkier voice she added, ‘But we can meet up as soon as I get back. I do want to see you, it's just … I'll only be gone a little over a week.'

‘Yeah,' I said.

Jen said goodbye. Now the empty day loomed ahead: all those hours, a grimy crater into which depression and boredom always poured. There was only one thing for it: to get fucked.

I called Rez. His voice was heavy and slow, like he was drugged.

‘I think I'm stayin in,' he said. ‘I start the new job tomorrow anyway. I just want to hang around here today. Sorry.'

For fuck's sake. Maybe he'd been fighting with Julie or something. I hid my irritation, hung up and called Cocker.

‘I'm in town now gettin stoned with Kearney,' he said when he picked up. ‘He's after bookin a cheap last-minute flight to Boston. He leaves tomorrow. He says his ma paid for most of the ticket, just to get rid of him. Can't blame her. I told him I'd pay for a euthanasia
job
for him if he's up for it. Stall it in, we're headin out to that big hill up on Killiney. I've got a lovely eighth here. Hopefully it won't piss it down, though, with these skies.'

My intention had been to avoid Kearney until he left for the States but I wasn't going to sit in today and do nothing. One more session before he went away was neither here nor there.

‘I'll be there in half an hour,' I said. I could hear Kearney singing operatically in the background. We hung up.

       

I sat next to Cocker on the DART. ‘What do ye think is up with Rez?' I asked him as we came out of the city.

‘What do ye mean?'

‘Well, I don't know, it's just that half the time these days he seems miserable, ye can't even talk to him. When I gave him a ring this mornin he sounded like he could hardly speak, ye know? Like he was fuckin miserable. Sometimes he seems normal and then he's great craic but a lot of the time now he's that way, all gloomy-like.'

‘But it's just cos of Julie,' said Cocker. ‘They haven't been gettin on at all.'

‘No, even before that. He's always frownin and goin off on his own. He just seems dead edgy, or cagey, or whatever the word is.'

‘Yeah,' said Cocker. I thought he was going to elaborate, but he just muttered, ‘Nicholas Cagey.' Then he turned to look out the window at the passing coastline.

Kearney was sitting in front of us. I could hear relentless techno played at full volume on his headphones, but he must have been listening with only one ear because he turned around to face us.

‘Maybe he is depressed,' he said.

‘Why would he be depressed?' I asked.

Kearney grinned. ‘I don't really know. Possibly cos he's a willy master. As gay as a pink doorbell.'

‘
Give it a rest, Kearney.'

‘I'm only messin with ye, Matthew. I'm only messin with ye. I'm only messin with ye. I'm only fuckin messin with ye. Rez is a fuckin quality fella. A-One, boss. I reckon he's a saint or the second comin of Jesus Christ. I'm goin to name me first three sons after him. The fourth one will be named after Gay Byrne.'

‘What about yer daughters?' said Cocker.

‘Riverdance,' said Kearney. ‘And Slán Leat. If I have a third, I won't give her a name. I'll lock her in the attic and throw her slabs of meat.'

‘God help any kids you'd ever have,' said Cocker.

Kearney grinned again, taking it as a compliment. He was known to be anti-life, pro-compulsory-abortion. He turned back around in his seat.

‘Do you reckon Rez is depressed?' I said to Cocker.

‘I don't know. He was in great form the night of the gig, when we were flyin on them pills. Well yeah, he got a bit quiet-like, and then goin on about weird stuff. There's always this stuff about reality or whatever. It's like he's obsessed or something. But … ah, I don't know. Fuck it. He'll be grand.'

The train bombed along and a few minutes later we reached Killiney Station.

       

We got off the DART and walked along a spiralling road that petered out into a muddy track that took us to the top of the hill. We drank whiskey and watched the dark clouds swarm in on the city from the sea. From up here Dublin looked like one enormous suburb, a dreary sprawl of semi-detached houses, electricity pylons and new roads leading to new suburbs, to roundabouts and Atlantic Homecare superstores. I wondered if every other place in the world seemed so dismal to the people who lived there.

‘
So how's this new job goin?' Cocker asked.

‘Grand. I mean, I've only done one day, but already it's the easiest job I've ever had. Total lack of responsibility. It gives me time to, like, ponder things.'

He laughed and said, ‘You'll end up like Rez.'

‘He's startin a job as well, tomorrow.'

‘Yeah I know. Doin night security work at some office block out in Citywest.'

‘No way.' I'd assumed he'd be working in a supermarket or a garage. I pictured Rez sitting alone all night in an empty building in some deserted business park. ‘It sounds like something from
Fight Club
,' I said. ‘I'd say that's the last thing he needs, though. He seems to be gettin weirder the more time he spends on his own like that.'

Cocker shrugged. ‘Well, he says he's lookin forward to it. He has a big stack of books he's goin to read up there. He says it'll give him time to think and write.'

I snorted. ‘What's he goin to write?' Really I was envious: I should have thought of being a writer first. Maybe I could be a musician instead. Or an artist.

‘Mostly just more of that stuff he's always scribblin, I suppose,' said Cocker. ‘His philosophy. All these essays he does write – he has tonnes of them by now. But apparently he's writin some kind of book as well. All about our lives. Something like that.'

Kearney sniggered. ‘The world is really holdin its breath for that one.' He handed me the shot he'd just poured. ‘Here then, let's drink to Rez's new job as nightwatchman, and to my departure for the pussy farm that is Boston. Total fanny holocaust it'll be.'