When Love Comes to Town (3 page)

But try as he might, he still couldn’t ease his anxiety. No point in fooling yourself, Neiley Nook, you’re a competitive fucker and you want that prize.

Father Donnelly held the piece of paper up in front of him. Half an hour seemed to pass before he revealed the winner’s name.

“Neil Byrne.”

Neil froze. Everything went hazy.

“Yo, Byrner!” someone shouted.

Gary hugged him in congratulation. All around him his classmates turned their heads to look at him. He was a popular winner. Thunderous applause, piercing whistles, and the din of stamping feet rang in Neil’s ears as he walked the seemingly endless distance to the stage. Arms reached out to slap him on the back and punch him as he passed. Even ice-cool Mick Toner was applauding wildly, and the sneers were strangely absent from Mal’s and Tony’s faces. Neil struggled to fight back the tears of pride. But he felt uneasy as he turned to show the crystal bowl to his admirers. Would their adulation be so enthusiastic if they knew the truth about him? What would they be shouting at him then?

His parents’ delight turned to silence when Neil broke the news to them. He picked at the little specks of dirt lodged beneath his fingernails while he waited for their response. He realized that it would come as a shock.

“Liberal Arts?” His dad almost spat the words out in disgust.

“Well, English and history…”

Another long silence followed. The martyred look creased his mum’s pinched face. His dad’s face was red with anger.

“I mean, that’s what I’m interested in,” Neil pleaded. “I won the prize for English, didn’t I?” he added.

His dad stood up, rested his backside against the draining board, and stared intently at his son. Through the kitchen window behind his dad, Neil counted seven magpies perched on the thick branch supporting the tree house. “I’m interested in classical music, Neil, but I’d never be able to make a living out of it,” his dad replied calmly.

Neil bowed his head and stared at his feet. He knew the line his father’s argument was going to follow. You’ll get a job anywhere in the world with an engineering degree. Liberal Arts is for rich kids who can step into Daddy’s company when their fooling-around days are over.

One for sorrow, two for joy, three for a girl, four for a boy, five for…Neil’s mind went blank, he couldn’t get past four in the rhyme his mum had taught him as a child.

“English and history books should be read as a hobby, in your spare time…An arts degree isn’t worth tuppence when it comes to the jobs market.”

“You need one if you want to become a teacher.”

“A teacher?” His dad’s voice was laced with incredulity.

“You want to become a teacher?” his mum asked in surprise.

“Well, I wouldn’t mind it,” Neil lied. He had no idea what he wanted to do after college; he never looked that far into the future.

“In case you haven’t noticed, there’re more teachers in the unemployment line this country than there are working,” his dad snorted derisively. And once again, Neil felt like breaking down and telling them all about the monsters that stalked him. About the sadness, the despair, the hopelessness, but worst of all, the horrible loneliness that he kept hidden deep in his heart.
Try to understand
, his eyes pleaded.
Hug me and tell me that you’ll love me no matter what
.

His dad prodded his shoulder. “Are you listening to us at all?”

“Yeah.” Neil swallowed to clear the lump in his throat.

“Look, just do your bloody exams first. We’ll discuss this again some other time,” his dad said, and left the room. The front door slammed shut behind him.

Neil remained seated as his mum started to clear the dishes off the table. Eventually, she broke the awkward silence. “Your father isn’t too pleased with your sudden change of heart.”

“It’s not sudden.” Neil’s reply was sullen.

“Well, it’s very sudden to us, Neil…I don’t know, but d’you have any idea how much it costs to go to college these days?”

Neil said nothing.

“I mean, we’re not made of money, your father only has a limited salary,” she sighed. “With both you and Jackie at college, things are going to be very tight…”

Neil dug a teaspoon into the sugar bowl and stirred the white granules around slowly. How could she worry about such stupid things at a time like this? Why didn’t she understand?

“But we don’t mind making sacrifices if we know that you’re going to have a chance of getting a decent job at the end of it.”

“Well, if I get a Morrison Visa, I won’t need to go to college at all, and you won’t need to spend a penny on me,” Neil countered cruelly. This sparked a brisk upsurge in his mum’s work rate. She got down on her hands and knees, shook some Vim onto a scouring pad, and began her assault on the greasy interior of the oven. “Martyr overload” was what Jackie called their mum’s habit of diving into her least favorite chores when she was upset. But America was a particularly sore point. Both of Neil’s older brothers, Paul and Joe, had got visas a couple of years before, and the pair of them now lived in New York. She never admitted it, but Neil knew that their leaving broke his mum’s heart, and the last thing she wanted was for her youngest boy to emigrate.

But this silent suffering angered Neil. Why didn’t everyone just say what they felt? Instead of listing off a million-and-one reasons, why didn’t his mum just admit that she didn’t want him to leave because she loved him? How could she expect him to be less secretive with her if she wasn’t prepared to be open with him?

“I better do some studying,” Neil muttered, standing up. He needed to have a smoke and listen to some music. His mum kept scrubbing, ignoring him as he crossed the kitchen. Neil lingered at the door a moment, smiling inwardly as he watched his mum’s furious scraping. But then the unexpected happened. His mum spoke. “Your friend Becky phoned for you earlier.” “Oh really, what time?” Neil asked calmly. “Earlier, I don’t know what time,” his mum said, resuming her scrubbing at a slower pace.

Neil left the room. As he dialed Becky’s number, he grimaced. He had finally recalled the last lines of the magpie rhyme: Five for silver, six for gold, seven for secrets never to be told.

Neil and Becky went on a spree using Neil’s English prize as their excuse. Neil couldn’t stop talking once he went over two pints. The words tumbled out so fast that he sometimes had trouble understanding what he was saying himself. But Becky was obviously enjoying his company. She kept rolling back on her seat in laughter. Neil always felt relaxed when he was with Becky; she was different to all the other girls. To her, he was simply her friend Neil and not the Blackrock winger who scored a goal in the Schools’ Cup final. He could be himself with her; there was no need for his usual game-playing.

After their fourth pint he made the most difficult decision of his life. The secret never to be told. The time had come, he decided; someone had to be told before he went mad.

He held Becky’s hand and beckoned her closer. “Becky,” he slurred, “if I tell you something, will you swear you’ll never tell a soul as long as you live?”

“Of course.”

“No, you’ve got to swear.”

“Neil, you can trust me.” There was a hint of indignation in her reply.

Neil held his head in his hands. “Oh God, I don’t know how to say this.”

Becky eyed him patiently. Neil put his lips up to her ear and purposely made his whisper incomprehensible.

“What?” she muttered.

“Got a problem that won’t go away,” he said, and an anxious look crossed Becky’s face—the type of look that people give when they’re told that someone is terminally ill.

“No, it’s nothing like you think. Like, I’m not sick or anything,” he added quickly. Then he took a blurred look around the half-empty pub to ensure for the hundredth time that no one was within earshot. He had to go through with it; he couldn’t live with this secrecy any longer. He had rehearsed this moment countless times in the privacy of his bedroom. Again he put his lips up to Becky’s ear and whispered, “I think that…I’m gay.”

As soon as the admission had passed his lips, he wanted to retract it. He watched Becky’s face closely. Tears welled up in his eyes. He wanted the ground to open up and swallow him. He was crazy. She was going to shriek and run out of the pub and tell everyone. His life was over. He’d definitely have to go to America now.

Pretend it was a joke
, he thought.
Becky, I was only messing. Had you going, though, didn’t I?
But he needn’t have worried. She shook her head and smiled warmly.

“I thought as much,” she said calmly, almost giving Neil heart failure. Who else knew? Was it common knowledge? That’s why all his friends were so friendly; they felt sorry for him. Maybe he walked in a way that gave it away, or maybe it was the way he held his cigarette, or even the way he spoke…That was it, it was his voice—it was too soft. Gary’s mum had commented on it once. What was it she said? “Neil, you’ve got a lovely voice.” Hah, what the old lady meant was, “Neil, you’ve got a gay voice.”

“Don’t worry, no one else suspects.” Becky smiled as though she had read his thoughts.

“But … How did you know?”

“Feminine intuition. And I am a friend of yours, Neil.” She smiled, patting his knee.

“But why didn’t you say anything?”

Becky shrugged. “I hoped you’d tell me in your own time,” she said, stroking his cheek gently.

“Would you have guessed at all if, say, you didn’t know me?” Neil asked, relieved now that his panic attack was unfounded.

Becky looked puzzled. “What d’you mean?”

“Say if you met me as a stranger.” Yet again Neil checked that no one was eavesdropping. “Could you tell that I was gay?”

Becky laughed. “Why, what does a gay person look like?”

“Ah, you know what I mean.”

“Well, you don’t look effeminate, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Becky smiled. “Quite the opposite, in fact.”

Neil sat back and sighed. Then Becky leaned over, wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, and kissed him. All the years of pain and frustration seemed to drain from inside him as though a ten-ton weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

“I love you just the way you are,” Becky whispered into his ear.

“You should write songs,” Neil replied with a grin, earning himself a gentle blow on the shoulder.

A lounge boy gave them a quick glance as he passed. Neil leaned over and whispered into Becky’s ear. “Lovely bum, hasn’t he?”

Becky’s face went into contortions. Neil dug a tissue out of his pocket and blew his nose. The couple at the next table were giving them strange looks, but he didn’t care now. He felt like standing up, punching the air, and shouting in jubilation. Instead he took a long gulp of his pint.

“I’m glad you told me,” Becky said, pressing his hand.

“So am I,” Neil grinned.

“I mean, it’s great; now we can go out eyeing up the prospects together.” She added with a smile, “D’you know something, Neil? You’ve got the sexiest eyes.”

Neil’s face went crimson. “Stoppit, yer makin’ me go all scarlet,” he joked in a strong Dublin accent, trying to conceal his embarrassment.

“Don’t worry, you’re not my type, but it’s great that I can say these things to you now without you getting the wrong idea.”

“Don’t be so sure, babe,” Neil purred.

“You’re going to drive all the old queens wild,” she said, and Neil’s laugh was a mixture of nervousness and excitement, “And the young queens.”

Neil looked at her uncertainly. Surely she didn’t mean what he thought she meant. But she did.

“So when are you going to go into town?”

“Huh?”

“Into a gay bar,” she whispered.

Neil laughed incredulously. “Are you kidding?”

“You’re the one who said you wanted to be in love.”

“Jesus, but a…”—Neil checked that no one was listening before he mouthed the words that sent a tingle of excitement down his backbone—“…a gay bar?”

“Well, everyone will have three heads with horns growing out of their foreheads, but apart from that I’m sure they’ll all look pretty normal.”

Neil shook his head. “I couldn’t, Becky, no way.”

Becky shrugged her shoulders. “You’ve only got one life. If you want to die wondering, that’s your business.”

“I’d be sure to be spotted. Can you just imagine if my parents found out?” Neil gave a long sigh.

“Never know, you might meet your dad in there,” Becky replied in a deadpan voice, causing Neil to double up with laughter. He pictured his dad with a bushy mustache and his hair cropped, sporting a lumberjack shirt, leaning against a bar. The thought repulsed him. But at the same time Becky’s apparent familiarity with the gay scene was beginning to puzzle him.

“You sound like you know the place,” he said with a laugh.

“I do,” came Becky’s reply.

“What?” Neil’s eyes opened wide in amazement.

“I’ve been in there,” Becky added calmly.

“Go ’way.” Neil’s mind was working overtime. Surely Becky wasn’t going to tell him that she was gay!

“With Jimmy.”

A pause followed as Neil caught his breath.

“Your brother, Jimmy?” he whispered.

“Hmm,” Becky nodded.

“Is he…?” Neil asked incredulously.

Becky smiled as she nodded. Neil leaned back in the seat and sighed.

“And you thought you were the only one.” Becky poked his ribs playfully.

Neil grinned, he couldn’t hide his delight. At last he knew of someone else who was definitely gay. He tried to form a picture of Becky’s brother. He had been in Sixth Year at Blackrock when Neil was First Year, in the same class as Neil’s older brother, Paul. He was the school’s main cheerleader for the rugby matches, and he used to dive into the packed crowd of squealing Rock supporters and belt anyone who wasn’t cheering loud enough. After he left school, he set up a rock band, Neil remembered them opening for the Hothouse Flowers in Blackrock Park one hot summer’s afternoon. The band moved to London soon after, following a vague promise of a recording contract that never materialized. But now Neil understood why Becky’s brother had settled in London. Away from all the neighborhood tongues. That’s what he’d do himself, he decided. As soon as he could afford it, he’d go abroad. Live his life the way he wanted to live it without all the hassle and pretense he’d have to put up with at home.