Who’s your Daddy?

How did I get from Cuba to the next morning? Moyrah knocked back five or so too many vodkas and threw up in the toilet, just as Debs and myself were talking to an American girl about how weird the phrase “it’s great craic” must sound to visitors. She agreed with a lady bouncer to leave so off she went and into a taxi back to her apartment. Cormac, Debs, Sarah and myself wandered over to Supermac’s for burgers and stuff. While waiting, Debs was falling asleep and I said to her to just fall asleep on my shoulder. No-one would disturb what seemed like a couple “having a moment”. But in Galway they do; Debs was shook awake by a large man in a fleece. Sarah and Cormac came back with the food and we tucked in. Afterwards, Sarah showed us all pictures of a little baby boy. Her baby boy. Sarah was my sister’s age when she had him. Gulp…..

Taxi to Moyrah’s, attempt to watch the Grand Prix and zonk! Asleep. The next morning, Moyrah said her boyfriend Paul’s Dad was coming to visit. Shit. The place was a mess. Moyrah said it’d be fine. How could it be fine? “You haven’t met Paul’s Dad……”

Paul’s Dad, Neil, is a biker. I’m sure there’s a story behind how he, at something like 50, dresses in leather and denim, organises bike rallies and is in a proper gang of bikers. He came in with his German girlfriend and talked about “crews” from Celbridge and it really was quite bizarre for me, since I’ve never met someone like him. He looked American, but the minute he opened his mouth it was pure Offalese. As in Offaly. What an interesting man.

So eventually later on we went into town and to Moyrah’s place of work. Debs was filling in for a girl that never turned up because Moyrah the manager fired her for being late for the umpteenth time. So Sarah was coming down to take over from Debs and needed someone to mind her 11 month old baby boy. And so it ensued that Cormac, Moyrah, her boyfriend and me were left with the child. I kissed (yes, I know!) both girls goodbye and left for the city centre. We parked in town, went to get the buggy out of the boot, boot jammed shut, few thumps, still shut. Clampers are knocking around, so Moyrah moves the car somewhere a bit more legit.

So there’s me and Cormac. And a baby. A Renault Laguna with a big spoiler was parked right up beside us, so I held the baby on that while we waited. My arms were so sore after holding him so long. But what a well-behaved child. I mean there wasn’t a peep out of this baby. But still, imagine if that child’s grandmother saw two strange guys and her grandson. She’d throw a freaker. So I was rather worried in that regard.

Moyrah later told me something rather strange about the baby. Single mothers are all very well, but this baby (only a year old this Sunday) is missing his Daddy. He’s never known a Daddy, shouldn’t be familiar with the concept, and yet he’s been heard to mumble “Da-da”. But the weirdest thing is that he was happier with me holding him than Moyrah, who he should be more familiar with. Maybe it was because I was a new face, but in my experience kids go for what they know.

We went down to Fat Freddie’s, a rather-cramped Italian-type set-up. Moyrah’s boyfriend’s Dad and brother were already there with their respective burds. I had garlic bread and lasagne and unconsciously ordered a Heineken. It was only when it was plonked in front of me that I said “shit, I’m an alco”. I dunno, I never thought I’d do that. Just walk into a restaurant and get a beer without thinking. It’s a first. Anyway, the baby was put sitting beside me, and all we had to do to hold back chaos was keep everything out of his reach. EVERYTHING. But what does one feed a baby in an Italian. Tortillas? “YUK!” was written all over his face. Tagliatellie (sp?) was too messy and in the end, he was given bread. Just bread. He pulled and heaved at it with his teeth til RIIIIP!!!! It’s in two pieces, ready to be pulled at again. The baby was thrilled with himself; he was the centre of attention. He didn’t seem to seek it, though, He was very content to be passed around like a toy between the seven of us after the meal. But everytime he was but in a woman’s arms, he reached out. Hands up, he was already pulling at the guy beside her. It’s so sad, really. He was such a lovely child, how could anyone not want a thing to do with him?

j