No Way to Say Goodbye (29 page)

Sam laughed. “Well, I guess you’d know better than I would.”

“Oh, I would, Sam. I’ve been a connoisseur of Kerry weather for nigh on thirty-eight years now.” He grinned. “So, you’re here to see your lady-friend?”

Mia’s heart missed a beat.

“Yeah.”

“Well, I wish you the best of luck.”

“Thanks, Henry,” Sam said.

It was at this point that an elderly lady, who looked as if she might be a cousin of the Queen of England and smelt of roses, approached Mia’s hiding-place. “Are you all right, dear?” she asked. “You seem a little lost.”

“I’m fine. Thank you.”

The old woman had attracted the attention of Sam and the bartender so Mia made her entrance. Sam immediately got off the bar stool. Henry followed with Sam’s drink on a tray, his demeanour immediately changing from casual to professional. Once they were seated by the window overlooking the bay, he asked if Mia would like something to drink.

“I’ll have a dry martini.”

“Certainly, madam,” he said, with a bow, and then they were alone.

“It’s a beautiful place,” she said, gazing out over the water.

Sam nodded.

“Are you going to say anything?” Mia said, annoyed by his silence.

“What do you want me to say?” he asked, knowing he was being rude.

“You hate me that much?”

“I don’t hate you. I just don’t want to hurt you again.”

“Is that what you’ve planned?”

“Why are you here?” he asked, as Henry appeared and placed Mia’s drink on the table in front of her. Without a word, he was gone.

She looked from Sam to her drink and back to Sam. “I don’t know,” she answered honestly. “To say goodbye? To win you back?” She sighed.

He took her hand in his and kissed it. “Say goodbye.”

She nodded. “The trouble is, I know I can get over losing you as a lover but I don’t think I’ll ever recover from losing you as a friend.”

“You don’t have to,” he said, unable to hide his relief.

“You’ve got my back?” she asked playfully.

“I’ve got your back,” he said, with a grin.

Later, over dinner on the terrace, Mia told Sam about her burgeoning relationship with Caleb. “He’s so good to me.”

“Like you were to me. You deserve the very best, Mia. You just have to believe it.”

“I shouldn’t be here,” she said.

“Probably not.”

“Still, I’m glad I came.”

“Me too,” Sam said, and he meant it. “Are you in love with him?”

“Yes, I think I am. And are you in love with Mary?”

“Yeah, I think I am.”

“She’s lucky.”

“No. She’s pretty unlucky, actually.”

“You’re well matched, then.”

“We’re giving each other space.”

“She told me. You know what I think?”

He shook his head.

“Space is for astronauts.”

They laughed. He had missed his friend Mia and he was glad to have her back, even if just for one night. They made their way to the restaurant arm in arm, and after dinner they travelled down Memory Lane. She worried that her career would suffer without him. He reminded her that she was the talent and that every good student outgrows their mentor. She discussed her fears for the album. She knew it was good but it needed one more song, a signature tune, something she could hang the whole thing on. He agreed to listen to the rough cuts. She complained that she couldn’t stay more than a day for fear that she’d put on weight, yet she was determined to finish her lobster. Over coffee he thanked her for saving his life and this time he meant it. At the end of their evening he kissed her goodbye. She hugged him and smiled. “Closure,” she mumbled, before kissing him one last time. He waited while she walked up the staircase and she didn’t look back.

“’Bye, Mia.”

22. Holding on, letting go

Sam left Mia just after eleven. He was tempted to knock on Mary’s door but her lights were off and he knew from Ivan that she had been having sleepless nights. He had also heard a greatly exaggerated account of her breakdown in Gemma’s beauty shop. He wondered if she was having that terrible nightmare again. He worried for her as he knew how devastating nightmares could be. He had been haunted by them for as long as he could remember – but his were based in reality.

He fell asleep quickly. Minutes later the nightmare woke him. He was starting to panic – that terrible panic to which he had often succumbed in his past life. The panic that started in the pit of his stomach, then leaked into his system and threatened to debilitate him. The panic that had enticed him into messing around with drugs. Sam hadn’t started with heroin – he’d tried pretty much everything else first: marijuana, mescaline, magic mushrooms, acid, china white, LSD, ketamine and cocaine to name a few, but nothing had come close to heroin. The others he could take or leave, but heroin had seduced him instantly and become his mistress. He had lost himself in her.

He made tea, trying to control the tremor in his hand. He sat at the kitchen table and tried to remember the breathing technique that Phones, his shrink, had taught him. He closed his eyes and attempted to visualize a calm day, but instead he saw a needle slipping into his vein, liquid slipping into his system and himself slipping into heaven. He shook his head vigorously to empty it.
No. No. Think of the sea or a cornfield or a park. Think of the sun, the moon or anything but that. Come on, man, you can do it. If only I could stop this damn tremor. Damn it, what’s happening?
But he couldn’t stop the memories of the almighty high flooding back.

When he was up, he was filled with colour. His body felt light and his mind free. He didn’t need to be touched or loved. He didn’t need to talk or listen. He could just be, wrapped up in his own heavenly bubble. He could almost feel the warmth. He stood up and walked around the room.
OK, you want to remember heroin, remember all of it. Remember the bad times. Remember the nightmare,
he told himself, as Danziger, his male nurse, had instructed. He closed his eyes and visualized coming down. It wasn’t hard to relive the hell that always followed like a blinding light – his head aching, his ears and skin buzzing, his body screaming. He could see himself in a ball, cold and twisted. His only escape was to slip another needle into his vein. He opened his eyes.
I won’t go back there. It’s all OK. Everything is fine. I’m fine.

It was the first time he’d really thought about using since rehab.
I’m OK. I’ll be OK.
He needed to calm down so he took a hot bath. The techniques his shrink had taught him finally kicked in and the panic dissipated.

He was drying his hair when someone banged on the door. It was after two a.m. but he thought that maybe it was Mary.

He answered with a relief that was short-lived.

Caleb pushed past him. “You’re a real fuckin’ asshole, you know that?” He was holding a half-full bottle of Jack Daniel’s. The rest was on his breath.

“I didn’t ask her here,” Sam said, closing the door.

“No, of course you didn’t. Why would you? You don’t give a damn about her!”

Caleb plonked himself on one of Sam’s kitchen chairs. Sam took two glasses out of his cupboard and put them on the table. Caleb snorted at his presumption but poured them both some anyway.

“You’re wrong,” Sam said, after a sip of bourbon.

“Oh, yeah?”

“I do care about her. I just don’t love her. Not like you.” He drained his glass.

Caleb put his glass on the table in front of him. He began drumming his fingers. “She told you about us?”

“Yes.” Sam poured another round.

“What’s your hold over her, man?” Caleb asked, sounding defeated.

“She came to say goodbye,” said Sam, “and that was what she did.” He put his glass down without taking another sip. Instead he got up and switched on the kettle. “She was just looking for a clean slate.”

“Easy for you to say,” Caleb said, swirling the contents of his glass.

“Why?”

“Because I’m just holding on, man.” He sighed.

“I know what you mean,” Sam said, as he poured coffee grounds into a percolator. “So, where you staying?”

“Sheen Falls.”

“She’s at the Park.”

“I always thought you were an asshole,” Caleb said.

“You were right. I was – maybe I still am. It’s a constant battle.” He hid the reality of his statement. “She said she’s in love with you.”

“Don’t fuck with me.” Caleb looked as though he was about to cry.

“I’m not.”

Caleb lowered his glass. “I’ve loved her since the first day I saw her. Do you think I should go to her?”

“Have some coffee first,” Sam instructed.

“No, thanks. I must go.” Caleb stood up. “You got a bathroom?”

Sam waited while Mia’s bass player gargled with mouth-wash. He emerged pumped up.

“Good luck,” Sam said.

“Thanks.” He walked outside and stopped dead. Sam deduced that he didn’t have a clue where he was going. He’d probably come here in a taxi, which, of course, had gone when he’d paid it off.

“You couldn’t drive me, could you?” Caleb wondered.

Sam smiled. “Get in the car.”

Mary’s day had been eventful. Although the glitterati often visited Kenmare, Mia Johnson was the first of the fraternity to have spent time in her home. By coincidence that evening she had invited Ivan and Sienna to dinner at Ivan’s behest. He had confided in her that his relationship was suffering slightly under the strain of his children’s homecoming. As their mother was at a rather unfortunate crossroads that she was taking her time to traverse, his new girlfriend could only wonder whether or not she had inherited another woman’s kids. Of course, she hadn’t said as much but she had become slightly snappy, if not downright sulky, especially after a long day’s work. She was used to having Ivan to herself, and family life was way more difficult than
The Brady Bunch
had suggested. Mary had agreed to distract his new girlfriend with her famous scallop salad, but unfortunately she had fed this to a ravenous rock star. Her father came to the rescue, providing her with fresh sole that she planned to serve with risotto. It hadn’t been the dish requested but it was the best she could do.

Fortunately Sienna was partial to sole and it appeared that she was so glad to spend a night away from the kids that a two-litre bottle of cider and a park bench would have sufficed. Mary played an old Bonnie Raitt album, one of her favourites that she knew the hippie in Sienna would like. “I love Bonnie.” Sienna sighed, and sipped some red wine.

Ivan sat at the kitchen table drinking beer and texting the baby-sitter.

“We’ve just left them, Ivan,” she said, irritation in her voice.

“Sorry,” he said, when he’d pressed
send
.

“Can I help?” Sienna asked Mary, who said she could manage fine.

Ivan took her hand. “Cheers!” he said. He and Sienna clinked glasses. “Any news from next door?” he asked.

“No.”

“You’re still giving each other space.” His voice was laced with sarcasm.

“None of your business,” said Mary.

“Well, I’ve some news on the subject,” Sienna said. “An American booked into the hotel late this afternoon. He asked if his girlfriend was staying.”

“Who is she?” Ivan asked.

“Mia Johnson.” She smiled smugly.

“No!”

“Yes!”

“Did she mention a boyfriend to you?” he asked Mary.

“Hardly.”

“Well, now the plot thickens,” said Ivan.

“I wonder why she didn’t stay in the Sheen?” Sienna said, as much to herself as anyone else.

During dinner Sienna revealed the strain she felt at having Ivan’s kids around. He was talking about the great day by the sea that he, Sam and the kids had spent and said she should have come too. She told him it was hard enough for her to share a large house with them, never mind a small boat.

Bolstered by the presence of his cousin, he drew her on the subject. “They’re not that bad, surely?”

“They hate me.”

“They do not.”

“Justine refuses to look at me when I talk to her. She doesn’t respond when I call her. She won’t eat what I give her, and instead of using my name she refers to me as ‘the woman’.” She drained her glass.

Mary was quick to replenish it.

“She’s only a baby,” Ivan said. “She’s just getting used to the situation.”

“Neither of them is a baby and Chris is as bad. He told me to fuck off the other day.” Her voice had risen.

Mary poured her some water in a different glass. She ignored it.

“And I gave out to him,” Ivan said, tired of the conversation.

“Not enough,” she replied.

“Well, what should I have done? Beaten him?” he said, annoyed now.

“You’re being ridiculous.”

The meal pretty much finished in that vein. Ivan defended his children’s behaviour and Sienna defended her reaction to a difficult situation. Mary opened a second bottle of red so that she could block out the bickering. The argument ended in stalemate so they sat in silence in front of the first episode of the second season of
Lost.
Mary and Sienna shared the bottle of wine, and Ivan got through a six-pack of beer.

They left at just after ten. Mary stood outside and waved them off. Sam’s car was outside but she knew he was in the hotel with Mia. It was only up the road so he’d probably walked and his house was dark and still. She had drunk too much wine so she sat on her wall to watch the water. It was still so warm. She wondered if when Mia had said she needed closure she had been telling the truth. After all, why should she? Mary was a stranger. Then she wondered if Sienna was right and Mia was seeing someone else – and, if so, why had he followed her on a visit to an ex-boyfriend and why was he staying in another hotel. Mostly she wondered why she couldn’t stop wondering about Sam Sullivan.
He’s not yours, Mary
.

She went to bed early, hoping to sleep soundly, but woke to banging on her neighbour’s door a little after two. She climbed halfway out of the window but she still couldn’t see who was there so she convinced herself it was Mia.
He’s not yours, Mary,
she reminded herself.
It’s for the best,
she lied. “Closure,” she muttered, and turned off the light.