The Truth About Love (2 page)

Yes. Yes, I am … Yes.

“What’ll I ever say to Tom O’Hara? He’s a lovely man.”

Everybody says that. “Your father’s a lovely man.” “Tom O’Hara’s a brave man too. Always trying to calm that mad neighbour of his, Jim Brannigan, and his terrible rages against Marjorie and the two little boys. She’s always running to Tom to save them. The lad’s bravery didn’t come from nowhere.”

Dada! Dada! Dada!
De profundis clamavi ad te / Domine, Domine …
Out of the depths to Thee, oh Lord, I cry. Dada, Dada, I call to thee, Dada, Dada. I call to thee. From the depths. From the depths. I’m falling and calling to thee. Don’t let me fall, Dada! Am not falling from the roof, Dada! Am falling from life, Dada! Am falling from life. Into eternity, Dada. Forever and ever amen. Am so very frightened of the loneliness, Dada.

“I saw worse wounds in the war. Some survived.” The war? They say Dr. Carter was a Major. On the English side. Dr. Sullivan is our doctor. He’s in Tipperary today with “that hopeless son” of his. Heard that at the lake—was it today? When I met the German on his walk and I told him I loved his gate, his hero-gate. I’ve wanted to tell him before but I was a bit shy. “I love your gate, Mr. Middlehoff It’s a hero’s gate.” “What is it that makes you say that?” He pronounces every word like he loves the English language but he’s afraid of it. “The helmet on top.” “Ah,” he said. “And who is your hero?” “Sarsfield is my hero. Olivia prefers Pearse. She worships him. She knows every word of his ‘Boys of Ireland’ speech but so do I, but …” “Are you one of the boys of Ireland?” he asked me. “
‘Mise Éire
. I am Ireland.’ Ireland is me.” “And what else are you?” “Nothing else. I try to live up to that precept, as Brother Enda calls it. Purity in heart and soul for Ireland. Goodbye, Mr. Middlehoff, I have to go to the boat now. I hope I’ll see you on your walk tomorrow.” But I won’t. Not now. He’s nice to me. He’s nicer than Mr. Pennington who used to own Lake House. The German’s more like Mrs. Garvey, a grown-up who listens to me. Who will listen to me now? What’s happening now? We’re slowing down.

“Thank God! We’re through the gates. There’s Father Dwyer’s car!”

I don’t think Father Dwyer heard my confession properly. Am I in a state of sin? Think. Think. Secret sin. Oh, I’m so ashamed of secret sin. “Bless me Father,” I try so hard not to commit secret sin. When it all comes over me I can’t stop. “Bless me father for I have sinned.” Oh bless me. So hard to tell that other sin when I stroked the hair of across-the-road girl. Name? I had her name! Where has my mind gone for a name? Tara! “Reet Petite.” Mama says you’re petite. I’m so sorry Mama, so sorry. You’ll be thinking of me. And crying all the time. Again. You’re not well, Mama. It was too hard on you, everyone said that last year when you cried and cried all the time. I used to go off to my room and hide in a corner when you cried so long last year after little sister died. And we all knelt and looked and looked that day at her as she lay white in her white communion dress and you wouldn’t leave the room would you Mama? Dr. Sullivan and Dada and Father Dwyer had to talk you out of the room. It took hours and hours. We sat outside waiting for you, Olivia, Daragh and me. And then after the funeral in the rain and cold we all came home and the house was full. And then it was quiet.

And then it was Christmas and I got a book. Was that my last Christmas?

“God, the hospital’s drenched in sunshine. It’s dripping in it. What a day. Like they said on Radio Éireann this morning, ‘Days like this don’t come in twos.’ What have I said? Don’t die on us all now, lad. Lad, can you hear me? Don’t die on us all! Though maybe it’s better. He’s destroyed, isn’t he? There’s Matron. Oh thank God she’s here. She’s one great woman with that starched headdress of hers and the rustling skirts. I’m surprised death ever defies her. I’m surprised she doesn’t bully death out of every bed in this hospital or laugh it out.”

Laugh death out of bed? Can I laugh it away? Can I laugh and be like the great hero of old Cúchulainn, who cried, “If I die it shall be from the excess of love I bear the Gael”? Ah, what a line! I’ve left no lines behind me. If I die I’ll have died silent. Nothing to be remembered by. I could have written something. A poem, even. Even one poem. Go away, Death! I’ll try laughing it away, like Cúchulainn. But now I feel a kind of rolling again and the woman is talking, the white and dark-blue woman.

“Oh my God! Childie! Dr. Sullivan and I delivered you. Ah childie, what have you done to yourself? Come here to me, childie. Darling lad, I helped your mother Sissy bring you into this world. Oh Sissy, what can we ever do for you now? All right everyone! Now up the steps. Right. Let’s get down to theatre. They’re waiting for him. It’ll be a long night what ever happens. Pray. All of you pray that Mr. Connelly—the best surgeon in the county—does the will of God tonight. The lad may be better off if God takes him. God will decide. But we’ll do our best. Hurry now. Hurry …”

Hurry! Run a race down the corridor. Down. Am going down life corridor. Into theatre. What play am I in? Real life. It’s real life! What is real life? Reen. Irene goodnight Irene … Reet Petite … Irene goodnight Irene. Reet reen reet … the finest girl you ever wanna meet … I go to meet my maker. Not yet! Mama, Dada, where are you? Where? Last hours, like Pearse. Alone. But I have no last poem for you, Mama. Not like his for his mother before the British shot him. We all had to learn it. Olivia used to make visitors cry when she recited “The Mother”: “I do not grudge them: Lord, I do not grudge / My two strong sons that I have seen go out / To break their strength and die …” Pale Pearse, pale like me, she says. Tried to be a hero to Mama. “Turn me over, don’t let my mother see me.” Not much of a hero. No one will tell my story. Oh Mama, I feel all wet and cold … I can hear you Mama: “Come in child. Out of the rain. You’ll get drenched. Come over here by the fire, I’ll hotten you up.” You always said that Mama. Oh thank you Mama for hot drinks on cold nights, for long-sitting through gasping asthma, for looking away from down there when you helped me out of the bath because I was very weak once. Mama, Dada, am off to Tír na nÓg. I’m sorry, but I think I will have to go there now. There’s nowhere else for me. I can’t stay here. Goodnight Mama. The land of Tír na nÓg, the land of the young is bundling up the clouds, high, high. Am sky-flying. Hold on to me, Mama! Hold on! Don’t let me fly away! Hold on to me! Catch my legs! Leg! Other one too soft. Bone soft. Something’s wrong. Hold on to my good leg. Hold on Mama! Mama? Dada! Hold on! You’re heavier, Dada. Heavier than Mama. So you hold on to me, Dada. Don’t let go of me Dada. Dada? Irene goodnight Irene. Ireeeeeene goodnight… Goodnight Mama Irene goodnight, I’ll see you in my dreams. Dreams. Dreams. Goodnight … goodnight. Oh Ireeene goodnight Irene. Ireeeeeene goodnight… goodnight Mama … Irene goodnight I’ll see you in my dreams. It takes some time to fall asleep. I’ll see you there. Hold my leg Dada! Am floating all away. Dream dreaming. I dream of you. Irene goodnight Ireeeene, goodnight… goodnight Ireene … I’ll see you in my dreams.

“Dada?”

“Olivia? Is that you, Olivia?”

“It is Dada. I’m here outside your bedroom door.”

“Come in child.”

“No, Dada. I’m standing outside. Can you come out Dada?”

“Ah! Ah! Yes. Coming, child.”

“What is it, Tom? Tom, what is it? What’s happening? Olivia? Olivia! Come in here this minute.”

“No Mama. It’s nothing Mama, it’s nothing. Just there’s a mouse in my room. Will you come Dada? Will you come now? Quickly!”

“Coming, child. I’m coming.”

“That’s rubbish, Olivia. Go back to sleep. You’re seventeen. Tell her, Tom. Tell her she’s got to stop this nonsense about mice and spiders in her room. It’s all nonsense.”

“Ah please Mama, if Dada’d just come and check for me I can go back to sleep and we can all go to see him in the hospital first thing in the morning. Please come now Dada.”

“I’m coming, child.”

“Don’t close the door Tom!”

“I think I will Sissy. You need to sleep, Sissy. I’ll be back in a minute. And don’t worry, she’ll grow out of the spider thing.”

“She’s seventeen Tom … ah … Hurry back to me Tom.”

“I will Sissy. I will. I’ll just close the door for a second.”

“Olivia? Child?”

“He’s dead.”

“Oh my God. Oh my God. Who told you?”

“Father Dwyer. Just now. I heard a car turn into the road. I knew it must be Dr. Carter or Father Dwyer. I knew he was dead. About half an hour ago. I just knew. I felt it. I felt him … gone. I got up and I dressed and sat on my bed. And I waited. For the news. And it came. I heard the gate and then I opened the door—I didn’t want him to press the bell—and Father Dwyer was just standing there. I looked at him and he shook his head. He couldn’t find the words. And I closed the door on him. And I went into my room and thought, how can I bring the news to Dada without her knowing first? And I thought of all my old fears—spiders and mice … ah Dada, Dada. What will we find to help us tell her? What words will we find? Where will we find them?”

“I don’t know, Olivia. I really thought we’d have time. I thought this awful night—hiding the truth from her—lying there—a liar—trying to save her from the truth, clawing at time, Olivia—we clawed at time to try to save her from the shock—to get her through the shock—which I thought would kill her. I was certain it would kill her and that if we could hold it off—then I’d give the time to him. I thought he had a chance. I thought he’ll be unconscious and … They’ll come to tell me—to come—they’ll tell me—I was waiting for Sullivan … What have I done? Oh God, what have I done? God must help me now. Help our family. Help us tell her. We’d better face it now Olivia. There is no waiting now. No way out of this one, is there Olivia? Listen child, whatever you’re about to see—after all you’ve seen today—know it can be survived. Just stay beside me, Olivia, and together we’ll go to the bedroom. Just wait for a second. Help me now God, because now I’m going to open that door slowly.”

“Tom? Tom?”

“Yes. Yes, Sissy. Darling, Sissy.”

“Did you find the mouse?”

“No Sissy. You were right. There was no mouse.”

“There’s never been a mouse! Have you ever found a mouse or a spider in that girl’s bedroom?”

“No, Sissy.”

“What were you two whispering out there in the dark? What Tom? What whispering? What?”

“I think we must face it now Olivia. Hold my hand now, Olivia. We can’t stop her knowing now. It’s rolling in, rolling over us, the truth.”

“Olivia was always too imaginative wasn’t she, Tom?”

“Say nothing now, Olivia.”

“Wasn’t she, Tom, always too imaginative? And tonight, how could she do that to us tonight? Too imaginative. Tom? Olivia? Answer me! Weren’t you always too imaginative? Wasn’t she, Tom? Put on the light Tom! Tom? Let me look at you Tom. In the light. Come over to me. Look at me in the light.”

“Here I am Sissy.”

“Come closer Tom. Let me look at you Tom, in the light.”

“Look at me Sissy. Look at me.”

“Oh no! No! No! No and no.”

“Oh my God Olivia … Stop it, Sissy. Stop beating your fists on the wall, Sissy you’ll hurt yourself. Let me hold you, darling Sissy.”

“No, no. Not my boy. Not my darling boy. Not my darling child, my darling boy …”

“Stop it Mama.”

“Olivia, run to Daragh’s room. Don’t let him in here.”

“Let me beat this wall for him. Let me out of this bed. I will beat the floor down to the earth … Let me beat down the earth for him, my darling boy. Boy. Boy. Never let me stop beating this down, beating it down.”

“Hurry—stop Daragh, Olivia. Go now.”

“I’ll be back in a second Dada.”

“Ah Sissy, let me hold you Sissy.”

“Let go of me Tom. Let me beat this down, down.”

“Olivia?”

“It’s all right Dada. Daragh’s just sitting there looking out the window. He’s not even crying. What’s that noise at the door? Someone’s beating on the front door. Why don’t they ring the bell? Ah there! The bell’s ringing. I’ll get it Dada.”

“Dr. Sullivan! Come in.”

“Where is she, Olivia? Where’s your mother?”

“They’re in the bedroom.”

“Right. Let’s go. Tom? Ah Tom, what can I say? Stop that, Sissy! Give me your arm. Come on now. You’ve got to do this for me. Sissy I want you to stay still for just a second. I’m going to give you an injection. Help me roll up the sleeve of her nightdress, Tom. This will knock her out. She won’t sleep for that long but when she wakes she will be under control. Good girl, Sissy. Let’s get you back into bed. Well done. God, why wasn’t I here when it happened? I know why! Christ, I was in Tipperary with that bloody son of mine who is never out of… Oh God, sorry Tom, me talking about my boy. Sorry. I got here as fast as I could. I talked to Carter and to the surgeon, Connelly. There never was any hope at all. No hope at all that he could have survived what happened. And Tom it’s best that he didn’t. Hold on to that piece of knowledge. And here take these. These pills will take the edge off the shock of it. I’ll give half a one each to Olivia and Daragh. Do what you’re told now, Tom. And Tom, I know why you did what you did—staying here with Sissy. In holding it off—the truth, by staying with her here, keeping her away from the hospital—you did the right thing to try to pretend for a few hours. She’s been so ill after the death of the little girl. So you bought her a few hours. Essential Tom, because with the raw memory of the other, this shock would have been too much for her. Her mind needed time to absorb it a bit. I’d say she knew immediately but she ran to a hidden place, a buried place. And you gave her time there Tom. You saved her mind. You saved Sissy. And that’s love, Tom. Love helped you do the right thing. You were right. Remember that. No man has ever loved a woman more.”

“Love? For love we’re asked to do the strangest things in life. Love! It asks the strangest sacrifices.”