Long story, p.29
Long Story, page 29
The widower had done a stunning job on the flowers – Francisco’s own way of sending off his husband in style. There were ostentatious blooms in pink and purple everywhere, waiting to be loaded into the carriage with the coffin. Francisco was fussing with the florals now, and we were letting him – it was something to keep his mind occupied when he was unwilling and unable to give in to the enormity of the occasion.
Deirdre was pouring champagne for everyone, as Bollinger had been another request. After a little while, Brian clinked his glass to silence everyone. Darius had specifically not wanted to be eulogized in front of everyone, but for his nearest and dearest to share memories of him together before the ceremony.
Lorraine began. ‘I met Darius when he first moved to New York, and I adored him on sight. He was a huge presence everywhere he went, not just because of his physical size but because he had a personality that was larger than life. Knowing him has changed me for the better, and I will never forget him. I’ll also never forget that he told me he chose the Frank E. Campbell funeral home for the service because it’s a great place to meet well-heeled men. Even planning for his own departure, he wanted to make sure the single girls, gays and theys in his life had opportunities.’
We all laughed softly and clinked glasses. Stories followed from everyone present. Alex told the tale of when she went mute with fear onstage when we were fourteen, and how her first thought had been about disappointing Darius.
‘It was Pygmalion, and every word of Eliza Doolittle’s dialogue just left my head. All I could remember were the songs from My Fair Lady! I was standing there like a deer in the headlights.’ She dipped her head, a tear slipping down her cheek. ‘I couldn’t see Darius, but I could feel him willing me to get it together from the wings. Eventually, Tara as Mrs Higgins stepped in and finished the scene by herself. When I ran offstage I was so worried he’d be angry with me, but Darius just pulled me into one of his famous hugs and reassured me next time would be better.’
Deirdre recalled her best friend throughout the stages of his life, which had all of us in bits. ‘He used to always tell me the men I fancied weren’t good enough for me, that I could do much better. He didn’t say that when I met Eamonn,’ she recalled, squeezing her husband’s hand in a tender gesture that made my stomach contract with loneliness. ‘In fact, before long he was saying Eamonn was too good for me.’
My favourite part was eighty-nine-year-old Aunt Ethel from Dublin recalling a time Darius had requested to borrow her high heels aged seven. ‘He was fabulous then, and he’ll be fabulous for ever,’ she wept. ‘He never wanted to be called Darren – he liked the name Darius because it means “to maintain possessions well”. Even as a little boy, he had a deep love of and respect for beautiful things. I didn’t think I’d outlive him, and I’m sad that I have. To Darius.’ We raised our glasses again, and I thought how lucky Darius had been to have a glam, liberal dame like Ethel in his corner as a child.
I didn’t know what to say. For once, I was unprepared, but the story that came to me just felt natural. ‘When my mother first got sick, Darius wouldn’t let me sit around and pout about it. He told me that crying would give me acne, and anyway, there was nothing to cry about yet. I learned later that he was well aware of Gloria’s prognosis – the cancer had been advanced when it was discovered, but he didn’t want me to waste time grieving my mother while she was still alive. He spent hours on end with us, watching old Barbra Streisand musicals on DVD and listening to CDs he’d burned full of her favourite showtunes. He never let on that she wasn’t going to be okay. Darius was there for me in a way I couldn’t, and still can’t, comprehend at the worst time in my life. And then he just never stopped being there. He was like a father to me, and I’ll miss him more than I can say.’
Jen was last to speak. Her own father had passed on during the pandemic, and Darius had been distraught not to be able to travel home for his older brother’s funeral. She was just about holding it together. ‘Darius never felt like a grown-up to me, always like a mischievous older brother. Much older, obviously. It feels unreal and unfair that he’s been taken from us so soon, but I’m happy we could all be here together to celebrate my inimitable Uncle Dar so perfectly, just as he wished. The world is less glitzy without him in it, but he left such a mark on so many people. He’d have absolutely loved this send-off, and he’d want us all to get absolutely rat-arsed as well. So, let’s go say goodbye and then get on with fulfilling his wishes.’
We formed a procession, all fourteen of us squeezing into the lift together holding flower arrangements above our heads. When we got downstairs, we collectively gasped at the sight of a magnificent black steed decked out with a purple feathered headpiece, and then felt the gut punch of seeing the mahogany coffin it was pulling for the first time.
We stood there in silence, paying our respects, before getting into the waiting limousines. Just as Brian had finished loading the flowers and was about to corral us, the horse let out a loud whinny and promptly took an enormous dump on the street.
I froze, mortified, and looked around the group open-mouthed. Then Francisco started to laugh loudly, and Deirdre joined in. Before long, we were all doubled over at this strange, shared merriment on such an awful day. It was so Irish, and so needed.
If there had been any lightness infused into an unbearable morning, it was quickly diffused as soon as we landed at the funeral home. As Alex and I entered the suite, already half full, we both looked up and sucked in our breath at the same time. There, decked out all in black, because he didn’t bother himself with the details, was Sean Sweeney.
34. Alex
I sensed Sean before I saw him and nearly stumbled, but Tara had a firm grip on my clammy hand and didn’t let me fall. She must have clocked him too but was paying him absolutely no heed, so I decided to follow suit.
Still, my body reacted as it always has to him – nauseous, aroused, nervous. I broke out in a cold sweat all over. For one split second my grief-addled brain was convinced he was there for me, and my heart soared. Quickly, I realized the truth – Francisco would have invited him, along with the other That’s D’Amore alumni. Sean wasn’t even glancing in my direction. Nor Tara’s, interestingly.
Of course, it made absolute sense that Sean should be there – he and Darius had remained close – but it hadn’t occurred to me that he would bother to show up, and I was wholly unprepared to be in the same room as him.
I hadn’t thought about Sean much in the preceding days. The week since Darius died felt like we were all playing pretend as we waited to lay him to rest, and then I’d been thrown for a loop with my assignment from beyond the grave and fretting about writing this ode to my friend. I was sleeping at Tara’s, in her bed; she and I were spending time together reminiscing, bawling and watching old videos of our That’s D’Amore performances. When teenage Sean popped up onscreen, we said nothing. Seeing the real Sean Sweeney in person for the first time in eighteen years was a different experience altogether, and I wasn’t prepared for how it made me feel. All of a sudden, I was twenty again and assailed by every emotion I’d experienced that year. An urgency came over me, and I squeezed Tara’s hand so tightly she got a fright.
‘Ow, Jesus! Alex, what’s wrong?’
‘Bathroom,’ I muttered, making a break for the ladies as fast as my stupid purple high heels could carry me.
‘Alex, what is it?’ Tara was flustered as she joined me by the sinks. ‘They’re about to bring the coffin in. Oh my god, you’re hyperventilating. Calm down, it’s only a bloody poem!’
‘I need to tell you something,’ I wheezed, ‘because Darius was the only other person in the world who knows about it, and he’s gone. If I don’t tell you now, it will be like it never happened, or even worse, like I imagined it. Sean’s here, and nothing feels real, and I just have to get this out, okay?’
Tara nodded, her eyes wide.
‘It wasn’t just a lost weekend with me and Sean, Tara. He got me pregnant.’
I didn’t notice that my period was late. It was always patchy, known to disappear in times of high stress throughout my adolescence, so I was never in thrall to my cycle. I had been stressed – Sean’s ghosting and then having to tell Tara I broke our pact about him had each taken their toll. I was glad to have summer in the rear-view, to be back in college facing my third year. Academia soothed me, as did the autumn.
It was in a French tutorial in early October that I suddenly felt an urgent need to vomit. I never wanted to make a fuss, but I couldn’t stop what was happening and practically ran from the room, just making it in time to the closest bathroom stall. Weird, I thought. I must have eaten something dodgy at lunch. I felt a lot better once I’d been sick, so I went back to class and forgot about it.
Then this propulsive desire to throw up happened again the next day. And then again the day after that. It was then that something horrifying clicked. No, I couldn’t be … could I? Sean and I had been careful … ish. I scrabbled at my wall calendar, searching desperately for the familiar red marker dot I used to track my wayward periods. The last one had been at the beginning of August.
I felt sick then for an entirely different reason, but tried to convince myself everything was fine. I couldn’t be pregnant; we’d used condoms. I mean, maybe we were a bit slap-dash with them when fornicating in a field, but no … it would be so horribly unlucky if they hadn’t worked. This sort of thing didn’t happen to girls like me.
I bought a pregnancy test in Boots in town where nobody would know me and tested in the loos in Brown Thomas for the same reason. I peed on the stick and sat there, listening to posh ladies making small talk while they waited their turn. When it was positive, I felt oddly calm. I was the least likely person I knew to get pregnant by an errant rock star. There must be a mistake.
Three more conclusive tests later, my student bank account was empty and my situation clear. I was definitely with child; I had been knocked up and abandoned, and I was absolutely terrified.
More than that, I was furious with myself. Why hadn’t I been more careful? I should have tried to get the morning-after pill, difficult and mortifying as it was. And booked an STI test! Sean was probably riddled, I thought bitterly. Normally I was the type of person who took no chances in any situation, but everything about my behaviour with Sean had been uncharacteristic. And now this.
I couldn’t tell my mother. I was mute with shock and horror at the mere thought, knowing it would break her heart. She was so proud of me studying at Trinity, and my parents had such high hopes for their only child. How could I possibly finish my degree with a baby? How could I get a job while looking after an infant? It was too much to even think about, letting them down because of a moment – okay, several moments – of blind, chaotic lust.
And I couldn’t even blame naïvety. As a midwife, Deirdre had been lecturing me about safe sex and avoiding a crisis pregnancy before I even began menstruating. ‘I see so many young girls in trouble, Alex,’ she told me, shaking her head. ‘Children raising children, and their lives are never the same again. Or else taking a horrible flight across the Irish Sea, and then coming in to us because they’re scared and bleeding. The second you even think about having sex, you come to me and I’ll get you on the pill. Do you hear me? Here are some condoms, just in case.’
‘Mam, I’m fourteen!’
‘Better safe than sorry!’
I hadn’t heeded her. I was a late bloomer, and then I didn’t want to do anything that would interfere with my body – I remembered friends having wild mood swings when they started taking hormonal contraception.
Well, weren’t you very clever, Alex? I thought nastily to myself. An unwanted pregnancy will certainly interfere with your precious body, you fool.
Distraught, I did the only thing I could think of and went to Darius.
‘Alex, are you sure?’ His face was grey.
‘The tests are all positive. I’ve taken four of them.’
‘Do you know how far along you are?’
‘The festival was the last weekend in August, whatever that means.’
‘Oh, sweetheart. Well, we better get you checked out. Find out what your options are.’
‘I don’t have any options!’ I cried. ‘This is Ireland, remember? I have to have this baby.’
‘There are always options, Alex.’
Darius made me an appointment at the Coombe – Deirdre had friends in Holles Street, and the Rotunda was out of the question – and came with me a week later. The throwing-up had stopped by then, but I felt nauseous constantly and had a dull ache in my back. Darius rubbed it soothingly as we waited; we had concocted a story about unusual bleeding in case we ran into an acquaintance in the hospital halls.
‘Have you got in touch with Sean yet?’ Darius asked.
‘No!’ I whirled on him. ‘And you are not to tell him a single thing! If he didn’t answer my phone calls and texts before, he definitely won’t want to now.’
‘Alex, it’s his responsibility as much as yours.’
‘He doesn’t give a fuck about responsibility, Darius. This is my problem, and I’ll kill you if you as much as google him to see where in the world the fucker is.’
Darius held up his hands, my wishes clear.
Completely drained, I dragged myself into the consultation room to be examined, answering the doctor’s questions mechanically. Yes, my period was irregular. No, the father was not in the picture.
‘Let’s see how many weeks you are,’ the doctor said, pity in her eyes as she squeezed cold jelly on to my bare stomach. It was still flat, not yet betraying what was going on inside my body to the outside world.
She frowned as she ran the probe across my abdomen, pressing down here and there uncomfortably to get a better look. ‘Alex, I’m going to have to do a different type of scan. I’m not able to see very well with the external ultrasound so I need to conduct a trans-vaginal examination. Try to relax for me, love.’
I closed my eyes and tried my best to think of a happy place, to escape from the present moment. Finally the doctor withdrew the device and placed her hand on my shoulder. I opened my eyes and saw concern in hers. ‘Alex, I’m not getting a heartbeat.’
For a moment, I thought she meant from me, and it made sense – I felt completely dead inside. Then I realized she was talking about the baby. ‘What does that mean?’
‘I can’t say for sure, but a heartbeat should be present, considering the dates of conception, and I’m not seeing one – see here, on the screen? It should be flickering. This can mean a few different things, so I want to take some blood to run a few more tests, okay? And I’m going to have to have another doctor come and examine you as well. Don’t worry, she’s lovely.’
I went through the same process as well with another, younger doctor, but the blood draw was the worst part because I’m terrified of needles. I insisted Darius be there to hold my hand, but the second the nurse pierced my vein I must have passed out. I came to in his arms on the bed. I lay there and he held me tight, making soothing noises for I don’t know how long.
Eventually the original doctor returned. ‘I’m really very sorry to tell you, Alex, but you’ve had what we call a silent miscarriage. We concur that, with what we can see on ultrasound and your blood results, this pregnancy hasn’t survived.’
‘So, what …’ I blinked. ‘It’s just … not alive any more?’
She looked at me gravely. ‘I’m afraid not.’
‘When did this happen?’
‘It’s difficult to say. It could have been quite recent, days ago even.’
I didn’t know what to feel. Part of me was relieved, because I wouldn’t have to tell my mother. Part of me was devastated, because Sean and I had created something together and it had died. Mostly, I felt guilty for not wanting to be pregnant – had I wished the baby away? Did it know I was distraught at the idea of it? Was this all my fault? I felt pain then, all over. Even my brain felt sore.
Darius sprang into action. ‘What are the next steps?’
‘Because of the early stage of pregnancy, my colleague and I agree we can deal with this medically. I’m going to give Alex a tablet to take that will pass the foetus, so she doesn’t have to have a D&C, but she will have to be monitored at home for complications and brought back in if there’s anything unusual.’
‘What do you mean, pass the foetus?’
‘Well, Mr D’Amore, the uterus will have to expel the pregnancy and this medicine will help it along. It’ll be like a very heavy, painful period …’
I tuned her out, then. All I could think was that nobody else could ever know this had happened.
I allowed Darius to guide me out of the hospital, clutching some pills. He drove me to his house, where I took them robotically, and then heard him on the phone to my mother telling her we were having a good old-fashioned sleepover. ‘No, she’s absolutely fine!’ he trilled, putting in a wonderful performance. ‘I just bumped into her in town, and we both fancied a night of ice cream and musicals. Of course I’ll mind her, Dee, don’t fret. She’s twenty years old, not five. I might even get her pissed!’
The pains were getting worse, and my stomach was in agony. I felt a steady, hot trickle between my legs, so I went to the bathroom, where I attached one of the massive pads the doctor had given me to my knickers. I don’t know how long I sat there on the toilet, hunched over – I was terrified of standing up, of seeing something I didn’t want to see. I just wanted all this to be over.
After a long while, Darius knocked at the door. ‘Are you in a lot of pain, sweetheart? The doc prescribed nice strong tablets for you. I’d take them myself for a buzz, if I wasn’t a responsible adult.’
I pulled up my pants and stood, feeling both dizzy and winded by the intense cramps. I opened the door and accepted another pill and a glass of water, and trudged into the sitting room, where I lay curled up on the cheetah-print sofa that was Darius’s pride and joy.
