Welcome To Wherever You Are (28 page)

The vacuum cleaner dated back at least two decades, and was so noisy and vibrated so intensely, he wondered if he should be wearing earmuffs like a pneumatic drill operator.

Sprawled across a sofa, Jake kept him company, skimming through a book on Eastern philosophy he’d plucked from the hostel’s library shelf. But he was finding it hard to focus on its teachings in the presence of a shirtless Tommy, stretching backwards and forwards, cleaning the carpets.

Jake already knew how Tommy’s mouth tasted, but now he wondered what his body would feel like wrapped against his own, or how his warm breath might feel on his neck . . .

‘
Stop it!
’ Jake suddenly interrupted his daydreams and moved his head from side to side as if to dislodge the inappropriate thoughts. He told himself he’d only been thinking about his friend in that way because he hadn’t been intimate with another person in almost a year. ‘It’s lust you’re feeling – nothing more, nothing less,’ he told himself, and placed the book on his lap to disguise his growing arousal.

He noticed Tommy scowl as Matty and Declan walked past the lounge carrying footballs under their arms.

‘Ladies,’ nodded Declan, slowing his pace. ‘You know, it really warms our hearts to see a bit of man on man romance. That touching photo of you guys is the talk of the building.’

‘Oh fuck off,’ replied Tommy, and took a swig from a bottle of Pepsi.

Matty turned to Declan. ‘I’d have expected a bit more gratitude for capturing such a tender moment on camera.’

‘I should have known it was you idiots,’ said Tommy, to which Matty and Declan grinned and waved before continuing their journey. Tommy opened his mouth to shout to them but Jake spoke first.

‘Don’t bother replying, they’re not worth it,’ he said.

‘They’re going to regret it.’

‘Why? What’s the point? They’ve had their fun, just let it lie.’

‘They’ve humiliated me!’

‘So you’re saying people thinking you’re gay is humiliating?’

‘No, that’s not . . . . no, I meant—’

‘Then leave it.’

With the carpets as clean as Tommy could manage without the aid of paraffin and a match, he took a dustpan and brush and began working his way through the first of six sofas, removing the cushion seats and scooping out stray nickels and dimes that had fallen from pockets into the creases. Tommy was fumbling around to pull out confectionery wrappers when his fingertips touched something leathery. He removed a brown tan wallet and looked inside; there were only a few dollar bills, free McDonald’s vouchers and an old debit card with the name Matthew O’Keefe embossed on the front next to a driver’s licence.

He briefly considered doing the right thing, but his dislike for Matty and Declan was so intense that he changed his mind and walked towards the plastic bag of rubbish Peyk had cleared earlier. He was ready to take the cash and toss the wallet away when he noticed a newspaper cutting protruding from the bills. Curious, he took it out, and raised his eyebrows when he read it.

‘Nail, meet coffin,’ he said out loud, and punched the air.

‘Jim Morrison was my first crush when I was a girl,’ smiled Jane, pointing towards artist Rip Cronk’s 20-foot-high mural of a shirtless Doors front man emblazoned upon a wall.

‘I must only have been six or seven when I saw him in one of my sister’s music magazines, and he made me weak at the knees,’ Jane continued.

Savannah lifted her head to look at the painting and, although she couldn’t name even one of The Doors songs, she recognised the band’s name from what her father called The Forbidden List – a four-page document of musicians and groups that if listened to, would be tantamount to allowing Satan directly into your heart.

‘One of the reasons I came to Venice Beach was to see this mural and where Jim moved to when he and Ray finished university and formed the group.’

Savannah struggled to match Jane’s enthusiasm on the subject, but she was coming to enjoy the company of her new roommate. Jane took a photograph of the mural on an archaic pre-Internet mobile phone, before they made their way a couple of blocks back towards the boardwalk. Savannah linked arms with Jane; it had been a long time since she’d felt so comfortable with a virtual stranger. And the more time they spent together, the more she felt her guard slipping.

Frequently they paused to watch the street performers, and now a peculiar duo caught their attention; they consisted of an elderly, wrinkled, white woman in a pink spiky wig, yellow plastic sunglasses and a bikini, and a very tall black man wearing just leopard-skin swimming trunks and a sombrero. He tunelessly plucked at three strings on a banjo while she banged a tambourine and hopped on one foot.

‘Do you think they’re a couple?’ asked Savannah.

‘I’m not even sure they’re human,’ joked Jane, ‘but I love that they’ve found each other. Like-minded souls can find each other in the most unusual of circumstances.’

Neither Nicole nor Jane recognised the song the clueless entertainers were attempting to play or understood the point of their act, but they admired their tenacity and dropped some loose change in their collection box.

‘You mentioned your sister last night – Roseanna, was it?’ Jane asked.

Savannah nodded. ‘I miss her, we were pretty close. It’s funny you bring her up because she turns sixteen today.’

‘You could always call her, you know. Just to wish her a happy birthday and let her know you’re okay.’

‘I’ve thought about it, but I’m scared of what my dad would do to her if he found out.’

‘He can’t be that bad, can he?’

‘You have no idea what he’s capable of, Jane,’ Savannah replied, and a flashback of a mallet striking Michael’s hands and forehead made her shiver.

‘Six months is a long time. You don’t know if the situation at home has changed since you left.’

Savannah was convinced it hadn’t, and the tremendous guilt she’d felt for leaving her sister behind to fend for herself suddenly returned.

‘I can’t find it,’ said Matty anxiously, the contents of his backpack strewn across the floor of their room.

‘It’s got be somewhere,’ replied Declan, stripping both beds of sheets and pillowcases and looking under mattresses.

‘Yeah, big help, everything is somewhere.’

‘Calm your jets, man, it’s only got the money we made from pawning your necklace.’

‘It’s got the newspaper story inside as well.’

Declan stopped what he was doing and turned to face Matty. ‘What?’ he said slowly. ‘That’s why you’re so jittery?’

‘I thought you knew?’

‘No, I didn’t fecking know! You idiot!’

‘I know, I know, you don’t have to say it.’

‘But I’m going to, because I told you to get rid – if anyone here reads that, we’re shafted!’

ONE YEAR EARLIER – DUBLIN AIRPORT

Matty and Declan’s box-fresh rucksacks disappeared along the conveyor belt as they left the Lufthansa check-in desk and walked back towards Matty’s parents.

‘You’ve got everything: your passports, boarding cards, wallets?’ fussed Matty’s mother. ‘You have that bag, don’t you? Make sure you have that bag.’

‘Yes, I have it. Now don’t worry, I’ve been abroad before,’ Matty reassured his mother. But it failed to placate her, and she promptly burst into tears. Matty’s father offered her a hug.

‘Don’t worry, Mammy, you’ve known all along I have to leave on my own terms.’

‘I know,’ added Mrs O’Keefe, ‘but you’re still our little boy and we’re going to miss you so much.’

‘Let him be, Deirdre,’ interrupted her husband. ‘He knows what he’s doing. Take care of yourself, son.’

His teary-eyed parents hugged Matty, then Declan, and the boys began to walk towards the departure lounge. Suddenly Matty turned towards them.

‘You did a good job, you know. With me. You did a good job. Thank you.’

Matty didn’t wait for their reaction or a reply as his own tears began to roll down his cheeks and land on the lapels of his jacket. Instead he turned around and continued to walk as Declan placed a supporting arm around his friend’s shoulder.

‘It’s not too late to change your mind,’ he said.

Matty shook his head.

‘Not a chance.’

*

The air conditioning blew cold and noisily above the drone of the plane’s engines as it taxied down the runaway towards its take-off slot.

Declan stared through his window at the country he was consigning to his past, at least for the foreseeable future. There was little about it he would miss; certainly not the parents who’d brought him into that world. His mother had moved to Shannon three years earlier and Declan had lost count of the number of times she’d texted him her new pay-as-you-go phone numbers. She had stuck to her word and attempted to stay in touch with her sons, but Declan wasn’t prepared to listen to her apologies for putting alcohol above her family’s needs. Then when he’d finally decided to grasp her olive branch, her number no longer existed.

Declan and his father navigated their home in different directions and at different times of the day. His dad was a nocturnal man, preferring to drink by night and sleep by day. So Declan accepted the mantle of role model to Finn and Michael, his two younger brothers, and in doing so, often became the barrier between them and their father’s drunken fists.

Hours after saying goodbye to them, and he was already feeling immense guilt for leaving them behind. But he took comfort that they were both now working at the warehouse depot, and from his ill-gotten post office gains, he’d paid the deposit and three months’ rent money for their new flat over the curry house and away from their father.

The rest of their booty he and Matty planned to use for their own hedonistic gratification. By the end of that day, there’d be sand between their toes as they watched the sun set at Ibiza’s legendary Café Del Mar before hitting the clubs. Then Spain, Italy, France, Germany, Sweden, Thailand, South America and North America would follow, God willing. After that, well, who knew, as they would most likely be living on borrowed time.

Yes, Declan thought, there was much to be excited about once their plane rose above the asphalt, but there was an equal amount to feel uneasy over too. Sometimes he wondered if uneasy was a feeling he would ever shake off.

‘Oh, fuck.’ Matty interrupted Declan’s thoughts. ‘Oh, fuck,’ he repeated.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘Look.’

Matty passed him a copy of the
Irish Times
he’d picked up at W.H. Smiths in the airport.

Declan recognised a familiar face in a picture the size of a postage stamp.

‘
Postmaster dies after bungled armed robbery
,’ read the headline.

‘What the . . .’ gasped Declan, and continued to read.

‘A man died yesterday following an armed robbery at his post office a week ago. John Wallace, 68, who ran Navan’s only post office for 36 years, collapsed with a suspected heart attack as two robbers attacked his premises. A garda spokesman said: “We believe the two men might have been captured on CCTV outside a nearby newsagents. If that is the case, we hope to quickly identify them before they strike again.”’

‘Dec, we killed him,’ said Matty quietly, and Declan closed the newspaper. ‘We killed someone.’

Declan remained silent, stared at the seat in front of him and gripped the arm rest. After a minute or so, he spoke. ‘It was an accident, Matty. If he had a weak ticker, it could have happened at any time to anyone. We have to forget about him.’

Matty stared at Declan and didn’t reply.

‘Matty, I said we need to forget about him, okay?’

Matty nodded reluctantly and Declan put his headphones on, chose a Ministry of Sound playlist and pumped up the volume to drown out his own uneasiness.

He didn’t hear Matty tear the story out of the paper, fold it neatly and place it in his wallet.

*

TODAY

By the time their room had been searched from top to bottom, it resembled a Midwestern state trailer park after a tornado.

Declan stood in the centre of the room, rubbing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose in disbelief.

‘I cannot believe you’d be that stupid. When did you have your wallet last?’

Matty closed his eyes and retraced his steps from the night before. ‘The lounge!’ he suddenly blurted out. ‘When we got back from the beach, I stopped off to buy some gum and came straight back in here for the party.’

‘Then let’s go find it.’

But as they opened their bedroom door, Tommy was standing on the other side with the missing article in his hand.

‘Looking for this?’ he smiled.

Despite Ruth’s promise to herself that she wouldn’t fall asleep again until she was sure Zak was safe and sound, it took the horn of his SUV to wake her up from an unplanned siesta.