Fragments of Sean - 2. Sean's Dad is a Homophobe

It was a bank holiday weekend again, and I had spent Friday and Saturday nights at a bed and breakfast near Tralee in County Kerry on the southwest coast of Ireland. I'd picked up a cheap voucher for the B&B online, so had taken the opportunity to do some hill walking. Saturday had seen me standing on the top of Carrauntoohil, Ireland's highest mountain. And an early start on Sunday had meant that I was able to summit Mount Brandon on the Dingle Peninsula, and still get home reasonably early in the evening.

After preparing and eating a quick dinner, I sat myself in front of my laptop hoping to finish a set of lesson notes for an Internet class I would be giving the following Tuesday to a group of older people in the community centre where I worked. I had hardly got started when the landline started ringing. Looking at the Caller ID I saw it was the landline number for Sean's parents. That was strange in a way, as Sean would normally ring me from his mobile. I reached across the table and lifted the handset.

"Hello, Johnny O'Donnell speaking," I said, unsure as to whether it actually was Sean calling, or one of his family.

"Hi, Johnny. It's Gary. You haven't seen or heard anything from Sean, have you?" It was Sean's father.

"Sorry no, Gary. I haven't actually spoken to him in over a week. Why are you asking? Has he gone missing?"

"Well, I can't get hold of him. He doesn't seem to be answering his mobile."

"As I say, Gary, I haven't heard from him in about ten days. When were you last talking to him yourself?"

"Last night. I dropped him off in Tuam on Friday evening. He was meeting some friend of his, he said. He rang yesterday evening asking me to pick him up, but when I got there he was with some lad, and asked me to lend him sixty euro. Said he wanted to stay another night."

"Did you lend it to him?"

"No. He was already quite drunk. I told him he needed to come home and sleep it off."

"And what did he have to say to that?" I knew what Sean could be like when he had drink taken.

"He created a big scene right there on the main street. Shouting and screaming at me. Kept calling me a homophobe. Reckoned the only reason I wouldn't lend him any money was because I didn't want him spending the night with the lad he was with."

"So what did you do?"

"The only thing I could do. Got back in the jeep and drove home. There was no point in arguing with him. There were loads of people on the street listening to him abusing me. He was drunk. Can't argue with him when he's in that state. He'd have only created an even bigger scene."

"This was last night? And you've not heard from him since?"

"No. I've tried ringing and texting. He's not answering the texts, and the calls are just going straight to voicemail."

"If it's going straight to voicemail without even ringing, it sounds like his phone might be dead. Do you know if he took his charger with him?"

"I'm not sure. He had a backpack with him, but I don't know what he had in it. Maybe you're right."

"You reckon he's still in Tuam?"

"I don't know, to be honest. Probably. Unless he's hitchhiked home or something."

"Have you called down to his house to check if he's there?"

"Yea, I'm just back from there. The house is empty."

"Would you think about driving up to Tuam and see if you can find him?"

"I wouldn't know where to look. And we've got visitors just arrived for the evening. I can't really just head off for the night. And I don't want them knowing about family problems, anyway,"

"Well, I could try ringing him if you want. Maybe he's just avoiding you after what he said to you."

"That'd be great if you did. I'm worried about his state of mind. And his mum is worried, as well."

"No worries, Gary. I'll ring him when I get off the phone to you and ring you back to let you know if he answers."

"Good man, Johnny. I'd really appreciate it."

"No problem. And, if I can't reach him, I could always drive out and at least check the pubs. It's not that big a town. He's as likely to be in one of them as anywhere else. Unless he's at his friend's house. Or already hitching home."

"You don't really have to do that. Not unless you want to. You do enough for our Sean as it is."

"No, it's not too far away. I don't mind going."

"Okay. Sorry for dumping this on you. Let me know how you get on."

"Will do, Gary. And don't worry too much. I'm sure he's fine. It's not the first time he's gone missing for a few days, after all."

"Okay. Talk soon. Bye for now, Johnny," he said, hanging up as I was saying goodbye myself.

Sighing, I reached for my mobile and tried ringing Sean. Just as I expected, it went straight to voicemail, the same as Gary had told me had happened to him. I sent him a text asking him to ring me, deciding not to mention having talked to his dad. If he remembered the things he had said to him in his drunken state the previous night, there was a distinct possibility he might not ring me back if he thought I was trying to contact him because his dad had asked me to. After ringing Gary back to let him know that I hadn't managed to get Sean to answer the phone, I gathered up my keys and headed out to the car.

As I was driving to Tuam, a town that I didn't really know all that well, I considered the telephone conversation with Sean's father. It was the first time any of his family had rung me. Indeed, I hadn't even known that anyone but Sean had my number. Perhaps his dad had looked it up in the telephone directory. And this was probably the longest conversation I had had with him since I had first met Sean. In the past I had really only spoken briefly to him when I had been collecting Sean from his parents' house, or leaving him back. And since Sean had got his own small council house about six months previously a few miles from his parents, I hadn't really seen much of his family at all.

Sean had told me once or twice that his parents didn't like the fact that he was gay, but I wasn't sure if that was really true. He would usually say things like that when he was drunk, and often come across at those times as though he wasn't even happy about being gay himself. He'd complained a few times about the fact that his dad had told him he wasn't to bring boyfriends to the house. He'd also mentioned that his mother was quite religious, apparently being a member of the Church of England, and he seemed to think that his sexuality went in some way against her religious beliefs. But I wasn't sure. They both seemed like nice people to me. And they both seemed to love him. And, when Gary had just told me about what Sean had said to him, he didn't actually seem angry about it. He seemed more as though he was worried about where Sean might have got to.

I don't know if Sean had told either of his parents that I am gay; or whether they had realised, or at least suspected, that I am because of my friendship with him. But if they did, they had never shown any animosity towards me. In fact they always treated me with complete respect. Not the actions I would have expected from homophobic parents. My suspicion was that Sean's thoughts about them disapproving of his sexuality were possibly wrong, likely nothing more than just the jumbled thoughts of a confused young man.

I had heard Sean call people homophobes before when he was drunk, and usually without any justification. The last time it had happened was when the bouncer on the door of a nightclub in Galway had refused him entry late one night because he had arrived very drunk. The fact that it was a gay nightclub he was being refused entry into hadn't even dawned on Sean at the time. In his mind, if he was being refused entry he was being discriminated against. And if he was being discriminated against, then, by his drunken logic, it could only have been because he was gay. There was a probability that his comments to his dad the previous night had also been done in a moment of unthinking drunkenness. I felt sorry for his dad in a way. It couldn't have been pleasant to have been called a homophobe in a public street like that.

Although it was the Sunday evening of a bank holiday weekend, Tuam is not exactly a tourist town, so it wasn't particularly busy like Galway would have been. And that meant I had no difficulty finding a parking spot close to the Market Square, which is effectively in the centre of the town. After exiting and securely locking the car, I walked back down to the roundabout on the Square and looked down the four streets radiating from it. I couldn't really see all that far down most of them, but I could see at least several bars along each street, plus what looked to be a few fast food places, and a couple of hotels which would probably have public bars as well. If Sean was still in Tuam and was still out on the drink, he could be in any one of those places.

I tried one final time to ring his mobile, but the call once again went straight to voicemail. There was nothing to it but to try each establishment in turn and hope I would find him in one of them. As I started down Market Street, it dawned on me that, even if I did manage to find him, it was not at all certain that I would actually be able to persuade him to accept a lift home from me. Well even if he didn't, I told myself, I would be able to let his dad know that I had found him, and put his mind partly to rest at least.

About an hour later I was stood back on the square by myself, having failed to locate him in any of the establishments. After two days spent hill walking in County Kerry my legs were already feeling tired and stiff, and trudging around the centre of Tuam, looking in all the bars and fast food restaurants had not really helped them in any way. I hadn't been counting, but I reckoned I'd probably checked well over twenty such establishments. I was tired. I was ready to head home and go to bed. Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I gave Gary a call to let him know the latest news and headed back to the car.

As I was driving home I thought back to one of the pubs I had gone into.

I had thought that I had actually found Sean when I had entered that particular pub. It was somewhere around the tenth one I had tried, and it wasn't too crowded. There was a figure, about Sean's size, at the far end of the bar, wearing a jacket very similar to one that Sean often wears. He was by himself, and looked to be asleep, with his head resting on his hands which were folded on the counter. An almost full pint of Smithwicks, a beer that Sean often drinks, was next to one of his elbows. I couldn't be one hundred percent certain that it was Sean, but I was fairly sure it was.

"There you are, Sean!" I had said as I approached him.

He obviously was asleep as he didn't respond, so I reached over and shook his shoulder.

"Come on, Sean. Wakey wakey. I'll drop you home."

Still not really awake, he stirred slightly and tried to lift his head off his hands. He used his left hand to push upwards and, as the weight of his head removed itself from his right hand, his whole right arm suddenly straightened itself at the elbow, hitting against the glass of Smithwicks. Two things had become quickly obvious. Firstly, if I didn't grab the glass quickly its contents would spill all along the polished top of the counter, and secondly, the face that was now blearily looking at me did not belong to Sean.

I had managed to rescue the glass and its contents and leave it safely next to the stranger, who had simply put his head back down on the counter and was probably fast asleep again by then. Apologising to the barmaid, who was looking somewhat annoyed with me, I had made a hasty retreat.

As I thought back on the incident I couldn't help think about the fact that the guy I had mistaken for Sean was probably around twenty five years older than Sean was himself. It had been a genuine mistake on my part. I hadn't been able to see his face, and he was the same general build as Sean, wearing a top that looked like one Sean often wears, and even having basically the same hair colour and style. But what I was pondering was the fact that the guy just looked a total wreck, almost as though drink totally ruled his life now. The fact that the barmaid had seemed more annoyed at me than at him suggested that she was probably well used to him falling asleep at the bar after drinking too much.

'Is that how Sean's going to end up in twenty five years time?' I wondered. 'A lonely and pathetic middle aged drunk, sitting alone in some pub somewhere, with his head on the bar counter, fast asleep?'

Thoughts such as those were not nice. I reached down, turned on the car radio, and pressed the preset for TodayFM. I needed some music to lighten my mood for the rest of the drive home.

I wasn't long going to bed when I did get home.

++++

After breakfast the following morning, as I was sat finishing the notes for my Internet class the next day, my phone beeped to let me know it had received a text message. Opening the screen, I saw it was from Sean.

'hi jonni can u give me a lift home. am in tuam'

When I rang him he sounded a bit tired, but at least he didn't appear to be drunk. We arranged that I would collect him from outside the Allied Irish Bank building, just off Market Square, at eleven o'clock. I decided not to phone his dad and get his hopes up, just in case Sean let me down again by not being there when I arrived. Checking the clock, I saw that I just had enough time left to finish the notes I was working on before I would need to head back to Tuam.