Robert Wilson - Eureka Street - A Novel of Ireland Like No Other

There was a girl I knew from Century Street. She dumped me just after the first time she kissed me. `What could be better than that?' she said. `When will we ever improve on that?' I didn't like to admit it but she was right.

Rachel kissed me and it was beautiful by the river. By the cadence of her breathing and the way she brandished her nicegirl breasts at me, I thought it had been something for her, too. It was a fresh enough night but I was airless with joy.

It started to rain. Happily we made our way through the car park back towards my Wreck. As we passed the concourse, we saw the cops clearing up from the last of the incident. People were being put in the back of paddywagons, just Us and peacefolk alike. I saw Ghinthoss vaguely remonstrating with some of the rozzers for the benefit of the camera crews but most of them were in tight on the people being arrested. The poet had a dissatisfied air. I guessed he was thinking that it might have been pretty good television if he'd been arrested like that. A spell in chokey might have been a great boon. It had worked a treat for Oscar Wilde. Maybe ducking into the chicks' pisser hadn't been such a good idea, after all.

We were moving on when someone called Rachel's name. We turned round to see one of the boys from her group being loaded into the back of one of the police vans. His face was covered with blood but he looked more horrified to see her and me together than by his own injuries. He called her name again and then disappeared into the van.

Rachel was for walking on but I stopped. `Wasn't that one of your friends?'

`Yeah,' she replied vaguely.

`Aren't you going to do anything?'

`Like what?'

'I don't know. He didn't look very happy. Aren't you worried about him? He's your friend.!

She pouted. `Well, he's kind of like my boyfriend.!

'What?'

'It's been over for ages. I just haven't told him yet.'

`What?'

`It's hard.'

`How long have you been together?'

She pouted again, she set out a foot in front of her. She twisted her heel from side to side and looked at it truculently. Suddenly, this kind of stunt had ceased to be engaging.

`How long?'

`Two years.'

`Fuck me.'

She tried to smile. `It's no big deal.'

`It didn't look like he agreed with you.'

`That's not my fault.'

I stared dumbly at her. She was the prettiest girl I'd ever talked to and there was a gentleness in her that made me want to put my head in her lap and weep, but why was she behaving like this? Amidst the noise and bustle of the cops and the complaints of the various protesters, she stood staring silently back at me. Amidst all the bullshit, she looked more attractive than anyone had a right to look. I thought about her bleeding boyfriend. I recognized that face he'd pulled as he'd been taken away. I thought about Sarah. I didn't have whatever it took to be able to do what she wanted. As I looked at her I wished I had but I knew I didn't. When I passed twenty-six years of age I had decided to fight the selfishness of lust. I had decided that because I knew that the finest fuck in history wasn't worth twelve seconds of someone else's unhappiness.

'I can see some of your friends over there,' I said.'Maybe you should join them.'

Oh, her face could harden quickly. She looked behind her. 'Is that what you want?'

'I think it would be best, don't you?'

She smiled without warmth.'A quick snog enough for you, then?'

So much for that first-kiss magic.

'You were too old anyway. I'm only twenty-one,' she said.

I tried to smile.

'What age are you anyway?' she asked sharply.

'Fifty-seven.'

'You look it.'

'I hope your boyfriend's OK,' I said, as gently as I could.

She walked away. After a couple of paces, she stopped and turned to face me.'You know, Jake, you're a real sanctimonious arsehole.' She walked away.

Why was it, every time I met someone these days, they ended up calling me names?

I lit a cigarette and wandered towards my car. In two days I had walked away from two attractive, interesting and interested women. I must have been getting old.

'Jackson.'

I stopped and turned round reluctantly. I'd expected some more grief from Rachel. Imagine my rapture when I found myself confronted by the delightful Aoirghe. Of course, I thought, she was bound to be there. She'd even mentioned it the night before.

`I warn you,Aoirghe, I'm not in the mood,' I advised wearily.

`I thought you were.' She glanced back to where I could see Rachel and her friends. `What's wrong?' she asked. `You fail to score again?'

`I'm too tired for this.'

I walked away from her. It was a pointless gesture since she followed me.

`I saw you attack Gerry, you fascist. That was a mistake. These peace girls don't like that macho bullshit.'

I stopped. 'I'm a fascist?! What were you all there for? You're the people with all the ordnance.You were looking for trouble.'

She snorted scornfully. `Those middle-class shitheads wanted to have their pathetic little protest. We just thought we should have one as well.'

`All they were doing was asking for peace.'

She snorted again.

`Don't you want peace?' I asked.

`Not on their terms,' she replied.

'On what terms, then?'

'On our own terms.'

I laughed. `That's a constructive position. Your folks must really dote on you.'

`We'll win in the end.'

I opened the Wreck door. `Change the record, please.'

`Fuck you.'

I smiled happily. `Tell me, Aoirghe, do dogs bark when you're around them? Is there a reflection when you look in the mirror? Do you have an inexplicable aversion to garlic?'

`You're a big laugh,' she spat angrily.

I got into the Wreck. I would have turned the ignition but if the Wreck did its stuff as usual then it might not have been the valedictory gesture I'd planned.

`How did it go with your slaphead Shakespeare last night?' I asked politely.

Jealous?'

I had told her I wasn't in the mood but I'm not sure that was an excuse for what I went on to say. `Aoirghe, I wouldn't fuck you if I had a bag of dicks.'

I started the car. It started first time. The old diesel engine drowned her reply. The Wreck had its moments. I blew a kiss and drove off.

Childish, I admitted, but fun, definitely enjoyable. I switched on my Wreck-radio, caught the words `two suspect devices', and switched it off again. I drove on, musicless. As I turned up Bedford Street, I decided to sing to myself.

A large BMW came skidding off a side-street at about fortyfive miles an hour. The driver struggled to keep all the wheels on the ground but the big car went into a spin. I braked hard and skidded up the pavement, just missing the pillars of a theatre. The BMW spun round towards me and I thought I would die. It hit the kerb hard and lost most of its velocity, shunting into my passenger side almost gently.

I gasped for breath. These things always came from nowhere and always made me want to piss myself. I took a moment to get my breath back and regain control of my wildly shaking limbs. I could see the driver of the BMW struggling angrily with his door. Looked like he wanted to sort me out. That was just what I needed to calm down. I jumped out of the Wreck and sped towards him. I dragged the driver's door open and the driver menaced me with his fists.

`Roche!' I exclaimed, aghast.

`Who the fuck are you?' the child asked. He looked at me closely.'Oh, it's you, the graduate. Didn't clock you in the suit. Good fucking driving, pal.'

`Whaddyamean, good driving? You nearly killed me.'

`I had the right of way.'

'You're a twelve-year-old criminal driving a stolen car. Don't fucking patronize me.'

He laughed delightedly.

`Are you hurt?' I asked.

`Nah, I always wear a seatbelt.'