One week’s worth of life (2)

He came out to meet us off the ferry, Maire, her boyfriend Paul and me. He was wearing a t-shirt in the rain, which summed up his entire state of mind. Cormac forgets the small things these days, and occasionally the big things. Like when/where was the ferry? We reached it with almost no time to spare, departing into the misty north Atlantic towards nothing visible. The sea parted and the ship descended into the crest of the wave. I stood on the deck and loved every minute of it. The rain, the wind, the sheer soaking wetness of it all. Men in macs scurried around the boat, pulling ropes and looking here and there, climbing and descending stairs. Eventually I saw the port, surrounded by sea breakers; big irregularly-shaped concrete casts lying around the wall like discarded Lego. Without any sense of event, the ferry was tied to the pier and everyone stepped off in the rain. And Cormac came to meet us, in a t-shirt.

We were made welcome in the two storey “holiday home”. I thought it was strange that they lived in a bungalow on the mainland, but on the island, home to barely 100 people, they had a two storey house. Weak tea was handed out by thoughtful people, and we sipped nervously. It was utterly unlike anything I’d ever been to. People walking in and out, muttering in Irish about “the visitors”. The togetherness of it all; community is too loose a word for these people. There were so many faces. In the church, I sat behind the King with his bald white head and ear-ring. He’s actually a real leader, in the hotel afterwards he played on the accordion with another man and while the crowd continued to talk when this man addressed them, the growling yet gleeful tones of the King hushed them all. They played and people danced, it was simply a given that every non-paralytic in the audience would dance, even if most of the waltzers were transfixed by Sky News in the corner above me. I felt nervous, and made frequent trips to the tea, sandwiches and cake room. Or to the bar, where I marvelled at the generously stocked shelves of a hostelry surrounded by water. The island fascination continues.

That night, there was another reception on the mainland. Cormac’s sister, the bride, was a beautiful barefoot girl who loved every minute of the day. She rubbed her hands out of sheer glee while waiting for the ferry back, a big smile on her as what must have been a lifelong dream was finally fulfilled. She was so happy. Cormac sat awkwardly on a couch in the reception. He recounted the past six months to me, in all their horrible detail. I hate how this all happened to him. Why couldn’t he have an easier life, like me? I mean, depressed and all as I get I never got to the stage where I worried about, well, whether I deserved to live or not. Yet he seems to visit hell so much he bought a noose with his air miles. It’s sad, but I think after some shite from me he got a bit more relaxed. Except for that bit where he accidently told me this guy we know thinks I’m a “closet case”. Then I had the biggest mood swing and probably caused a scene, trying to reconcile my “sheer anger at being typecast as someone I’m not” side with my more rational “it’s not true so why should it bother you/there’d be nothing wrong with being gay” side. So then I calmed down and he said Maire and me being there meant a lot to him. I was supposed to stay at his house that night, but there was only one bus at 7am the next morning back to Dublin and I needed tto stay somewhere within walking distance of the bus. His house is……remote.

So we said goodbye, to him and his mother, who may or may not be the most destructive influence in his life right now. She took me aside during the evening and thanked me for being such a friend to Cormac since his Dad died. I said it was nothing, I didn”t know what else to do. I also wanted to tell her she had to stop sending her son down the road to insanity; her idea of therapy is hypnosis and Irish Psychics Live. But I didn’t.

I’ve always hoped for the best for Cormac and Lindsay, the girl who’s Debs I went to on Tuesday night. I went to Kilkenny for similar reasons, but different things happened. Some good, some bad. But I’ll finish this chronicle of the past week some other night.

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