Primperfect (27 page)

just call him

like an aging paedophile, Fintan.'

‘What? No. You can't talk to me like that. Go to your room.'

He was properly bristling at me. Sometimes he gets funny when I'm cheeky. All outraged and junk. It's like he's forgotten my actual personality.

‘I won't,' I said, reminding him of my actual personality. And outrage. He demurred, like a lady in one of my novels.

‘I meant for it to be paternal. He was only gagging for a bit of approval.'

‘Robb is not
gagging
for anything that you can give him.'

‘And he won't gag for anything you can give him either by the time I'm finished with him.'

‘You're not allowed to bully him, Dad. That's not OK.'

‘Of course it is OK. I am your father.'

‘I know you are, Mr Leary.'

He did the kind of laugh that is also a grunt. ‘Jesus, he got my back right up there.'

‘Why?'

‘I just don't like being reminded of your mum when I'm in the middle of parenting.'

‘That was parenting?'

‘Yes.'

‘Why don't you like being reminded of Mum?' I interlaced my fingers and leaned back in my chair, like a total Caroline.

‘I don't mind it. I think about your mother all the time. But when I'm in the middle of trying to be a dad, it kind of irks me. Like she's watching me and doing that clucking thing she used to do when I swept the floor wrong.'

I did the clucking thing. He laughed.

‘That's the one. I just. I want to do this right. I want you to have everything. But I can't be a mother. And I'm still kind of getting father lessons.'

‘You're doing OK, Fintan. It's been three and a bit years. You've got the hang.'

‘I thought I had. But then I knocked up Sorrel, and you got boyfriends.'

‘How long had you been seeing Sorrel before you asked me if it was OK to ask her on a date?'

‘We weren't seeing each other, not exactly. She was giving me Indian head massages and things were happening. And we had a talk and I wanted to get your OK before we made it serious, but it was kind of too late by then because I'm going to be a father again.'

‘Don't ask her to marry you. Until the baby is, like, one. Or three. Three seems a good number.'

‘I won't. It won't be like it was when Bláth had you. I know you don't think it, but thirty-four is young. Or it was for me. I didn't feel like a grown-up, but I got myself into a grown-up situation and felt the need to act accordingly. To do the right thing, you know.'

‘The right thing is only the right thing if it is actually the right thing, Dad.'

‘You are confusing and wise. Where did I get you at all?'

‘From a toxic relationship with an eighteen-year-old college student.'

‘Ah, yeah. That'd do it.'

‘And please don't say “knocked-up”, Dad. It kind of belittles it. I mean, I'm going to have a brother or sister.'

‘I just. I hate saying “impregnated”. And “got Sorrel pregnant” is so removed. It's not a thing she'll have to deal with on her own. I'm going to be there.'

‘And you really don't want to go down the “we're pregnant” road like Uncle Patsy,' I said.

‘That's a dark road. It's not a road for a man to go down lightly.'

‘I read in this historical romance novel once –'

‘Those things.'

‘Yeah,' I said. ‘Those things. Anyway, back in the day, they used to say a woman was “with squirrel”. That seemed kind of cute to me.'

‘I quite like that. And Sorrel might as well …'

‘So no more knocking-up talk.'

‘Fine. Sorrel is with squirrel. We're very happy. I hope that you are too. About the squirrel.'

‘I'm on the fence. Are we still going to London?'

‘Of course. I should take you on more holidays, really. I work all the time and I know it isn't fair on you.'

‘It's fine. Can we go to the British Museum?'

‘Yes.'

‘And lament our nation's plundered treasures?'

‘Ireland doesn't actually have all that many plundered treasures in there, Prim.'

‘We could pretend to be Greek!'

‘Will it involve silly accents and false beards?'

‘No.' (Yes.)

‘Grand so.'

We finished our tea. The last cup I had from the pot was almost cold. I love my dad. He is the worst but also occasionally the best. I wonder if I could give him sideburns. Greek men could totally have side-burns. They're allowed to have whatever they want. Except for most of the Parthenon. I couldn't say to Robb about the baby. I thought about it, in my room, but didn't. I didn't want my mouth to form the words and make it real. Once it's out there, known about, I'll have to decide what I think about it. And I don't know. And Robb would have made a snarky comment maybe, or an awkward joke. And things were nice. I didn't want to ruin it.

How do I feel about you, Robb? I wish I fully knew. His fingers brushed the small bumps of my scars so tenderly. He didn't say a thing. I wonder if we'll ever be close enough for him to ask me what they are. For me to tell him. Probably not. He's going off to France and then to school. I think that it would take months and maybe years to get that close to someone. That's the thing about physical stuff, it rushes friendships. And you think,
He's touched my boobs, I should be able to tell him about cutting
.

That was a mistake I kind of made with Kevin early on. I thought that if I gave him enough of me, then he would be my boyfriend. That we would be closer and closer and closer until we were a unit. It doesn't work that way. He'd listen and then kiss me and I thought that maybe if I took it a little further this time then we would be closer. Not that I didn't want to. Because I did. I just wanted the emotional stuff as well. And I thought the one would lead to the other. Because it did for me. I kind of liked him and then he made me feel a thousand ways and then I
REALLY
liked him. Caps lock really. That much. I don't know. I'm probably going to make the same mistakes with Robb. He probably won't want me once he has me. Because he doesn't really have me yet. I'm holding on to distance. Because the closer I get to him, the more rope I fear he'll give me.

A little flower. That's what she reminds me of. I can't call her Cowslip, though. I'd only get away with that till school starts and that's, what, four years? That's only five per cent of a person's life. People live longer now.

Quote from Prim's mum's diary

elix got his Leaving Cert results today. He got 450 points. I texted him to wish him luck and things. It's a big deal. He's kind of annoyed, because he was hoping to get the points for sound engineering as opposed to science, but it looks like he's going to have to fight with Mary about it a bit. I hope he gets to follow his dream. I feel like boy-crushes should be allowed to fly free, to be awesome where they wilt. But that's a girl thing as opposed to a mum thing. Mums tend to want what's best for you. Only they sometimes get what's best for you mixed up with what they would do in your shoes or what a layman would do. Which clouds things a little.

‘I want Felix to be happy,' said Ella, who was eating a cheese fry. A whole bowl of them, as a matter of fact. Not just like one
HUGE
one on a plate. One time, me and Ciara went to this diner near Stephen's Green and we got a large chips to share, and there was like one big chip in the middle of the bowl which was like seven improperly separated chips. It was amazing. We will always remember it.

‘Remember the big chip, Prim?' asked Ciara, who is a superlative human being.

‘I do. Do you still have the picture on your phone?'

‘Of course.'

We looked at The Big Chip, and Ella rolled her eyes to heaven. She was not around for the advent of The Big Chip and I don't think she gets quite how magnificent it was.

‘I can't believe you're going to London, like,
tomorrow
.' Ciara was disgusted. ‘It's going to be so dear to text you.'

‘You could always just not text me.'

‘What, for a whole week? Yeah, right.'

Ella was still munching the cheese fry. She chews her food very methodically.

‘It's weird, isn't it,' she said, ‘how we always have to text each other about things? Like, if we don't, maybe they didn't really happen?'

I said ‘Yes' and Ciara said ‘No' at the exact same time and then we all looked at each other and laughed a bit.

But it
is
weird, how we tell each other everything. And non-disclosure can be perceived as a sort of insult, like,
You don't trust me enough to tell me this and why
. There are things I don't want to tell people, things I don't want to talk about and don't. But they are a part of me, like my eyes and face and undying love for Ella's older brother. And it doesn't mean anything when I don't share them with Ciara or Ella. It's not spiteful or whatever. But then, when you do tell people stuff, they know more bits of you and little by little you become closer. It's not that I want to distance myself from Ciara or Ella or Joel when I don't talk about the sad bits. It's just I want to distance
myself
from things that make me sad. Deliberately pushing them away and focusing on all that's wonderful, like kissing clever boys and admiring The Big Chip. I loved that chip.

Ella hasn't changed her mind about Caleb. They haven't met up since the party, but they are going to and there will be some kissing when they do. They talk online a lot.

Ciara misses Syzmon. He hasn't been texting her as much and has been posting pictures of himself hanging out with friends who are not her, drinking things and smiling. She knows it isn't fair to want him to be sadder than he is.

‘No-one posts pictures of themselves weeping and listening to power ballads on the Internet, Ciara. No-one we know anyway. The Internet is for your best self. You know Syzmon's in bits.'

‘Tell me again about how sad he was at the party.'

‘SooOO sad,' said Ella, using lots of vowels to emphasise the woe.

‘Properly destroyed,' I added. ‘I thought he was going to cry at one point.'

‘Thanks, guys, I really needed that.'

We went around the shops for a bit and I bought a sparkly blue mini-skirt because it was four euro. After Ella left, Ciara and I went for tea and cake.

‘I feel a bit bad for wanting Syzmon to be upset. It's not that I wish him ill, it's just that I'm upset and he should be that way as well, I think.'

‘It's normal. You don't want to be easy to get over.'

‘Yeah. I want to be, like, important. One of my favourite things about being with him was how important he made me feel. I mean, he really thought I was amazing.'

‘You
are
amazing and it's OK to want him to be sad about it. You were together for ages, like sixteen per cent of your lives or something.'

‘Yeah. That is a huge chunk of my life. I only have another eighty-four per cent left.'

‘That's not how that sum works, Ciara.'

I unfolded a paper napkin and jotted it down to show her.

‘Ugh. That was a stupid mistake. Emotions.' She smiled and did that thing where she adjusts her hair with two hands like she is steering it.

‘Emotions cloud things,' I agreed.

‘How very Caroline of you,' said Ciara.

‘Are you still seeing her?' I asked.

‘Yeah, like once every six weeks now. How about you?'

‘Dad's making me go weekly for the next while. Because of my raging alcoholism.'

‘I talk of little else when I'm in her office,' Ciara said and put her hand on mine. ‘I'm glad you're finally getting the help you need.'

Then there was some cackling. I wonder how Caroline will take the pregnancy thing, actually. Maybe I should be having more feelings about it. I kind of feel like I should be angrier, or sadder, or something. Something negative. I haven't texted Sorrel yet. Maybe when I text Sorrel things will coalesce into something more solid.

I should text Sorrel. I know I should. To congratulate her, I suppose. That would be the traditional approach.

I kind of don't want to, though. But what to say instead? ‘I know, and I'm not cross. I won't berate you. Optional

That definitely wouldn't be good enough.