Rob Doyle - Here Are the Young Men

‘There’s nothing more to it than that.’

‘There is. Or maybe there isn’t, I don’t fuckin know. But what I mean is, ye seem in a really bad way and, and I’m worried. So is Jen and so is Cocker. I think you’re only seein the world the way you’re seein it because you’re depressed or something. Maybe ye need some kind of help. Ye know? I’m worried that you’re going to, ye know, do something to yerself.’

Rez scowled. ‘Do something to meself. Jesus Christ, don’t give me that.’ He looked right at me with an intensity, an anger that unnerved me. I was feeling more and more uncomfortable, wishing I was elsewhere, wishing I wasn’t stoned.

‘Don’t kid yourself,’ he said. ‘Part of you, the honest part of you, would love nothin more than if I went and topped meself. That’d be excitin, that would be a good story to tell people, it would make ye more interestin. Something to tell girls to make them fall for ye: “Oh, it’s rough, me friend hanged himself.” You’d love it if I went and killed meself.’

I looked away.

‘Just as I would love it if you went and did yourself in,’ he added.

‘Fuck off, Rez,’ I said. ‘I was only tryin to talk to ye. I won’t bother any more.’

‘Yeah, well don’t fuckin bother,’ he sneered. ‘All I asked was what ye thought of the music.’

‘It’s not music, it’s just noise. Anyone can make a racket like that, and then just stick on the worst quotes ye can find. It’s just fuckin lazy.’

‘It’s not lazy. It’s just honest. That’s the only way to get through to people any more and make them feel something. Everything else is just some fuckin false memory that ye get from a car ad or somethin. Do ye know what I mean?’

‘No.’

‘I mean, like, ye can’t trust anything else, emotional songs or melodies or anything like that, anything with feelin in it, cos it’s all part of the system, it’s all been fed to ye by these fuckers who only want ye to keep consumin things and not cause a fuss and …’

He frowned, angry at not being able to articulate himself better. I glowered at him, hurt and furious, relishing his confusion.

I said, ‘It sounds to me like you hardly know what you’re talkin about, Rez. You’re inventin some political statement or whatever just as an excuse to make something dead vicious. It’s just cruel, that’s all it is. You’re just wallowin in all this misery and hidin behind some concept. That music is more like something Kearney would make. Maybe you’re not that different from him. At least Kearney is honest about what he’s into.’

The comparison incensed him. ‘Well fuck you then, why don’t you fuck off and make something decent, since it’s so easy for you to criticize?’

‘Fuck off yourself.’

I remained in my seat, tense and shocked. We had never fought like this before.

‘I’ll go then,’ I said.

‘Yeah, off ye go,’ he replied.

‘Thanks for the smoke,’ I said, ridiculously.

I was out the door and thirty metres down the road when I heard him racing after me. He caught up with me, panting.

‘Listen, I’m sorry Matthew. I’m sorry man. I didn’t mean it, I just felt a bit, I don’t know, insulted or something, or trapped.’

Now there was something pathetic to him. I had the sense that he really didn’t want me to go, and that if I did, it would be disastrous.

I sighed. ‘Look, forget about it. Ye can’t be talkin to me like that, though. I was only askin ye if you were alright.’

His face darkened like he was going to snap again. ‘I am alright,’ he said, but then he made a visible effort to smile and soften his tone. ‘Look, come on back to the gaff, we’ll have another spliff. I’ll nick some of me da’s vodka and we can have a drink. I’m sorry man, I was just bein fuckin ridiculous.’

We walked back to his house together. Rez actually seemed to lighten up a bit after that. He even made a few jokes and did impressions of some of the teachers, like in the old days. He flailed his gangly limbs about while telling an anecdote from the couch, and after a while he had me cracking up, like there wasn’t a thing in the world wrong with him, and our nasty argument of earlier seemed to be forgotten about completely.

We listened to Nine Inch Nails and Orbital and played a game of Zero: Retribution (Rez had borrowed the game from Kearney while he was in the States). An hour before his ma came back we opened the windows to air out the room and get rid of the hash smell. He poured some tap water into the vodka bottle, refilling it to where it was before we’d started lashing into it. Then I said goodbye and walked home, stoned and drunk, thoughtful and confused at once.

I didn’t call Jen after what had happened in her bedroom. The thoughts of it filled me with such shame, I couldn’t bear to face her again. Besides, I had no doubt that she was secretly hoping I’d leave her alone — who would want to stay with a guy who couldn’t please a woman?

On Thursday evening I was sitting in my room, looking out the window, worrying myself into depression over my penile affliction. My mobile started ringing. I looked at the screen: it was her. I placed the phone back down on the desk beside my bed and let it ring. Eventually it stopped, only to start again a few seconds later. After it had rung out for the second time, it didn’t ring any more.

The next day I phoned Scag. I wasn’t sure if he had meant it when he’d said to give him a shout sometime, but today I couldn’t sit at home and wallow. I needed to be out, getting annihilated and forgetting all this crap. It was too miserable.

‘Story, Matthew,’ said Scag when he picked up. ‘Good to hear from ye, bud. Are ye lookin for a few yokes, is it? I’m afraid there’s a bit of a drought on at the moment, sunshine. What about a bit of speed?’

‘Em, the thing is, I wasn’t actually lookin for any pills. I was just, ye know, givin ye a shout, seein if ye wanted to, like, meet up or something.’

There was a pause, then Scag said, ‘Sure thing bud. We should meet up for a bit of a chinwag, have an oul smoke, see if we can get to the bottom of this thing once and for all, know wharray mean?’ He laughed like Dustin the Turkey: ‘Hua hua hua.’ There was something mad about him, but basically Scag seemed alright.

‘So what’s the craic with ye these days, then?’ he said. ‘Are ye still refusin to work?’

‘Actually I got a job. Just doin a few hours a week down in the garage around the corner from me. It’s dead handy. The best thing about it is that I don’t actually have to do any work. Or at least, I don’t do any work.’

‘Fair enough, man, fair enough. Like I told ye, just don’t get into bed for less than ye got out of it for. So c’mere, are ye doin a line these days?’

I was puzzled. ‘What, ye mean cocaine?’

‘No, no. Not cocaine, I mean, are ye seein a bird. Doin a line.’

‘Oh. Well, em, I was yeah, until recently. But it’s, ah, I don’t think it’s goin anywhere.’

‘Ah well mate. Fishes in the sea and all that. Know wharray mean? But c’mere, I’m just here in town havin a smoke and a can with a few old pals.’ I presumed he meant junkies or winos. ‘I’m in Dublin Castle. Stall it in and we’ll have an oul chat.’ He paused. Then, ‘Have ye got a few quid on ye for a can or two? I’m a little bit skint to be honest with ye.’

‘Yeah. Well, I mean, I can get a bit of drink … I’ll jump on the bus now and see ye in there in half an hour.’

‘Grand, yeah. I’m wearin me gold suit and a top hat, so ye can’t miss me.’

‘Yeah?’

‘Yeah.’ He cackled and I heard the old friends in the background guffaw along. Even their laughter sounded slurred. ‘C’mere Matthew,’ he said, ‘I reckon we’ve been havin a bit of an Iraqi summer here in Dublin: it’s a little bit Sunni, but mostly it’s Shi’ite!’ The chorus of laughter flared up again. It was cheering me up to talk to Scag.