Death is Not an Option - 20. Chapter 20

Every morning since the party I have woken in my room feeling warm and comfortable and happy. And every morning, after those first few moments, reality has smashed into me and feelings of embarrassment, pain and loss swept away every shred of comfort, of warmth, of happiness.

On the first day Jon tried to talk to me but I couldn’t, I just couldn’t. The pain was too raw, too... painful. I was sure I had lost him, that I had hurt him too much to ever even be able to be his friend. And then we had a stupid dinner at a local golf club, with everyone there and Connor didn’t look at me, not once. Then I knew.

After the golf club there were picnics, a day out at the beach, an evening bowling, a trip to the cinema... and although he never set a foot wrong he was... polite, icily polite and he never looked at me. We didn’t speak. We didn’t touch. We didn’t communicate at all and it was slowly killing me.

Every night I would fall asleep with a hot cheek on a damp pillow and a mind swimming with questions, doubts, wishes. One thing I grew not to doubt, to become more and more sure of, was my feelings for Connor. I was falling in love with him, even as he was pushing me away and showing me nothing but contempt... contempt I deserved.

I examined my feelings and my actions and I realised that he had been right when he said I was an innocent. I was. I am. But it’s more than that. The fear I felt that night, alone in the darkness with him... it was more than that. I was afraid... afraid of the way I felt, the way he made me feel, afraid of all the things I didn’t know, that I had never even touched on, afraid of making a fool of myself, afraid of driving him away, afraid of his touch, his eyes, his...

Most of all I was afraid of his body. I was afraid of how strong and powerful it was, how assured and confident, how he moved like a dancer, how he had pulled me against him and how he had felt when he did. I was terrified by how much I wanted to feel his hands on my body, his lips on my lips, his breath on my skin. I wanted it but I feared it, feared where it would lead. I was, in short, terrified of the very thought of sex.

Sometimes I tried to think of it, of how it would feel and I was fine with the thought of being naked, of seeing Connor naked. In fact the very thought made me... made my body... and I had to... And I was fine about the thought of his hands on my body, and not just his hands... his lips, his kisses, his tongue, his skin... Whew... the things that went on inside me at those thoughts. But after that... after that the images in my head got a little blurred and the fear began to creep in. After that... what happened after that? What would he expect of me? What would he do to me? What would he want me to do to him?

At that point my body stopped making me want to touch myself and curled itself in a tight ball and made me want to scream.

The thoughts, the feelings, the fear got worse and worse until today when they just exploded. We went for a ride in the country, and it was horrible. I feel as if I am going to burst out of my own skin. Connor has been quiet all day and he still won’t look at me. Declan is trying to compensate, to draw him out and he is funny and bright and... and Jon and Sean are trying hard too but I just can’t get up the enthusiasm to join in. I feet like a rose that is wilting, sinking, slipping away.

And then Connor got up and went out. Everyone is looking at each other and I can practically feel what they are thinking. There is silence for a while and then Declan sighs.

“I suppose I had better go talk to him.”

“No. Please... I’ll go.”

“Isaac... are you sure?”

“I... I have to. I can’t stand this any more. I have to talk to him.” And I don’t let anyone say another word or make a move to try and stop me. And, boy am I glad that I did. When I see him he looks... lonely, so lonely. Maybe it was just me. Maybe it was just...

My feet take me across that patio all on their own, without my brain having anything to do with it at all. When I get there I don’t know what to do, what to say so I just say ‘I’m sorry.’ How lame is that?

After that it gets kind of blurred and all I can really remember is the kiss. The emotions flowing through me at that moment were... so powerful, so alien. I swear, if he had ripped off my clothes and made love to me on the table, right there and then I would have let him. And then we are sitting on the table holding hands. I look out over the fields and think... if I die now I know I’ll go straight to heaven... because I am already there.

I want to stay here all day but that is impossible and, in the end, we have to go back inside. It is beginning to get chilly and I’m just wearing a thin shirt. Connor feels me shivering and puts his arm around me but, to be honest that only makes it worse. And so we go back inside. Everyone stops talking as we walk in, hand in hand and their eyes go big. But no one says a word.

Sean scoots up so Connor and I can sit next to each other and we spend the whole of the rest of the day close enough to touch. And we do touch, every opportunity, every moment. He puts his hand on my knee and I rest my head on his shoulder. I stroke his arm and he toys with my hair. It is unbelievable. For the first time in... a long time I’m not afraid, or tense, or shy, or uncertain. For the first time ever I am completely and utterly myself.

“Connor... why was grandma so mad with you at the party?”

“What? When?”

“When you were singing. I think you have a beautiful voice and those songs... they were wonderful. But grandma was really cross with you. Why?”

“Ah... well... it wasn’t me singing darlin’ it was me choice of songs.”

“I don’t understand.”

“They were republican songs and Grandma doesn’t approve of me bringing me politics over de sea. Not that she approved of them on the other side neither.”

“Politics? But those songs weren’t about politics... were they?”

“They sure were. They were about occupation and freedom... or lack of it.”

“Connor...” Declan’s voice has a warning note that surprises me.

“I know... I know... No more of that republican shite, in front of the... English.” The way he says the word is almost an insult. It puzzles me even more and, when I look up and see the looks in Sean and Jon’s eyes I can see that they are as intrigued as I am, and understand just as little.

“What’s wrong with being English? I’m English.”

Connor squeezes my hand. “There’s nothing wrong with being English me darlin’ and me estimation of dem went up by a mile when I met you. It’s just... I love me country Isaac and I don’t like what yours had done to it.”

“I still don’t understand.” Suddenly things have turned a corner and I don’t like where they are leading. Connor has gone quiet and is staring broodingly into his drink and Declan is tight lipped and I don’t know what to do, what to say to get back to where we were, where I wanted to be. “I don’t understand what’s happening. It’s making my head ache.”

“Your head and my heart.”

Connor and Declan exchange a look and Connor turns his face away, his eyes dark.

“Come on Connor, tell me. I want to know. I want to understand.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“I thought the troubles were pretty much over.” Jon comments keeping his voice light but clearly interested and clearly a lot more knowledgeable about the subject than I am. “The ceasefire has been holding since 1998 and Sinn Fein is now the largest political party in Ireland. It’s all mainstream now, isn’t it ... you’ve got your own assembly government...”

He peters off at the look Connor is giving him and shakes his head perplexed. “I don’t want ter offend yer Jon, not for de world but... you know nothin’... nothin’ about the way it really is over dere.”

“No, that’s true, and I never will unless you tell me.”

“Con, I think it would be better if I took it over here.”

“Knock yerself out.”

Declan looks uncertain. He looks up at me and asks. “How much do you know about the situation in Ireland?”

“I didn’t even know there was a ‘situation’ in Ireland.”

“Your education has been sadly neglected.” Connor’s voice is tight, although he is trying to appear teasing.

“My ‘education’ is non existent, except in the areas that were deemed necessary to the community.”

Both Connor and Declan give me a strange look and Connor squeezes my hand with a gentler smile than I have seen on his face since this discussion started. Declan continues, “I suppose a brief history lesson is in order then. There has been trouble between the UK and Ireland for hundreds of years. In the 1920’s there was a war and Southern Ireland got it’s freedom but Northern Ireland remains part of the UK despite repeated campaigns and a bloody terrorist war. As Jon rightly said, in 1998 there was a ceasefire and since then the political situation has improved.

“But that’s just in Stormont and Westminster. On the streets not much has changed. There is still Protestant favouritism in every area; jobs, housing, social facilities. We still have Catholics being stoned in the streets, sectarian ghettos, prejudice, violence, fear. And republicanism is a dangerous stance to take in a place where the people in power, I mean real power, on the streets would gut yer as good as look at yer if yer start singing that kind of song outside of yer own area.”

Connor’s face looks like thunder but he says nothing, just turns his face away and crushes my hand so I have to grit my teeth against the pain.

“Is that how it is? Is that how you live your life every day? Afraid to say the wrong thing in the wrong place?”

“That’s how he lives his life.” The look that Connor gives Declan shocks me... it is almost disgust.

“Of course the great Connor O’Donnell would never dream of keeping his mouth shut about anything. He’s had his head kicked in so often you would have thought it would have knocked a little bit of sense into him sometime.”

“Some of us don’t care about getting hurt for our beliefs.”

“Some of us have the good sense to know when to keep our mouths shut. Some of us don’t go out looking for trouble because they want the pain.”

“Fuck you.”

“An to hell wid you yer arse wipe. You bang on about yer beliefs but it’s all a bag o shite. You don’t have any beliefs, never have. You look for trouble because you want to get hurt. You want to wash away your guilt with blood and the worse thing is you think we’re too stupid to see.”

“Shut yer mouth Declan Connelley. You know nothing about me, nothing.”

“Yet think? That’s your problem Connor, always has been. You think you’re so mysterious, so ye do. You think that there’s not a soul on this earth that has the measure of ye, that cares for ye. But ye’r wrong. We all know ya. We all know why ye’re like ye are. And it’s all bullshit. Ye’re ....”

We never get to hear what he thought because Connor launches himself over the table and suddenly they are rolling on the floor punching two kinds of hell out of each other. At first we are utterly shocked and just sit there watching them. It is Jon who moves first and then Sean, each grabbing one of the struggling bodies and dragging them physically apart.

One of Declan’s flying fists catches Jon’s nose and blood spurts down the front of his shirt. Connor, struggling in Sean’s arms slips and comes crashing down onto the corner of the table knocking our drinks flying

“Connor stop... stop. What are you doing?”

He is struggling to his feet, blood pouring from a cut over his eye, whether caused by flying glass or hitting it on the table I don’t know. I am horrified. Utterly, utterly horrified; half way between scared for him and scared of him.

At the sound of my voice he pauses and looks down at me. I am still sitting behind the wreck of the table, my legs too weak to let me think of standing up. He blinks as if seeing me for the first time and shakes his head, spraying blood over him and over me. He puts his hand up to his head and stares in surprise at the blood, then he looks at me again and his face is grim.

“Do yer see? I told yer. I told yer I was trouble. And this ain’t the half of it.” He turns to Declan who is still struggling with Jon. “I’m sorry Dec. I was bang out of order. I’m sorry.”

Declan immediately stops struggling and goes still, looking at Connor as if he has grown another head. He opens and closes his mouth a couple of times and then shakes his head and laughs. “Yer a fecking eejit Connor O’Donnell, so ye are. Ye’re a fecking eejit and bag o shite to boot. But I love yer, yer great daft arse. Feck... would yer look at yer. Yer a mess man.”

Connor looks a bit dazed but gives Declan a weak smile and takes the handkerchief that Sean is holding out to him, pressing it to his head. He looks around sheepishly. “I really am sorry.”

“Let’s get out of here.” Jon is holding a paper napkin to his nose which is still bleeding. He does not look amused, even though both Connor and Declan are now grinning and slapping each other on the back as if the fight had never happened. I get to my feet, a bit shakily. I have no idea what to do, what to say. Connor turns and sees my face and the laughter dies. He hangs his head, letting the handkerchief fall. I stare at it and can barely believe that the sticky wetness that soaks it is actually blood, Connor’s blood.

Fortunately there are few patrons in the pub this afternoon but the landlord is not happy about the fight and, even less so about the broken glasses and table. It takes a fair amount of sweet talking from Jon, Sean and Declan to get it sorted and I believe that some money changed hands. Connor takes no part in the discussions and just stands, not looking at me, his eyes fixed on the floor.

After the first shock wears off I move closer and raise my hand to push the hair away from his face, it is sticky and ropey, full of blood and I shiver at the feel of it. Connor starts at the touch and raises his head, unconsciously falling into an aggressive pose. He relaxes when he sees it is me and gives me a thin smile.

“Does your head hurt?”

“Some.”

“Good. You deserve it. What the fuck was that all about?”

He grins sheepishly and shrugs. “Politics.”

“Politics? Ah... I give up. Come on. You’re coming to the bathroom so I can fix up your head... before I knock it off.”

“Where the feck did yer get yer balls from all of a sudden?”

I can’t help but grin and he follows meekly to the toilet, leaving the others still haggling with the landlord.

As I am soaking a handful of paper towels in the hand basin Connor examines his forehead in the mirror. He is not half as shocked and upset as I am, as I thought he would be when he sees the cut.

“It looks nasty.”

“I’ve had worse.”

“Why did you do that? Why did you attack Declan?”

“He was being an arse.”

“No he wasn’t.”

Connor turns to look at me and there is something in his eyes I can’t fathom, can't describe. “Let’s just say he was treadin’ on stony ground, gettin’ a bit too close to a part of me that no one touches.”

“Why not?”

“Because... because...” He turns and rests his hands on the basin, staring into the mirror as if he expects to see someone other than himself staring back. “It just... no one goes there.”

“Why not?”

He turns and now I can see what is in his eyes... it’s pain, raw and simple. “Because it hurts Isaac, it hurts me and I don’t do well dealing with things that hurt.”

“Hah!!! I’m an expert at that. Maybe I can help.”

Again he gives me an unfathomable look, at first angry then changing to something softer. He smiles and shakes his head. “No... it’s nice of yer to offer but that’s somethin’ that not even you can help me with... well... maybe some day eh?”

Without waiting for a response he pushes gently past me and opens the door. Then he pauses and looks back. “Can I... can I...?” He shakes his head and moves to turn away.

“Can you what? It’s okay... ask what you like. I want... I want to be... to be here for you.” Connor’s eyes widen and his lips part but the words don’t come easily. He licks his lips and frowns.

“I feel... I feel that if... I like yer Isaac. No, that’s a stupid word for the way I feel. I more than like yer. I’m scared of what that means. I’m scared of what it means fer me and what it means fer you. I’m very different. Maybe too different. I want to...” He pauses and suddenly I am scared too. What is it he wants to do?

“I want ter talk to yer. I want to tell yer everything. I want yer to know what yer getting’ yerself into fallin’ fer me.”

“You want to talk to me? Just talk?”

Connor smiles, a wicked smile. “Not just talk.”

I can’t help but return the smile, even though I am blushing crimson. I duck my head and look up at him through my hair shyly. Oh my God... is he blushing? Is he actually shivering because of the way I’m looking at him? I like this. I like the way it makes me feel to think that I have the power to make someone like Connor shiver.

“I would like that. Will you come back with me? To my... to Jon and Sean’s house? I have my own room. We can... talk.”

“Aye... talk.” He grins and it feels like he is stroking me with his words. I shiver and hurry to follow him out of the door. He holds it open for me and, as I duck under his arm he drops it encircled my waist, hugging me to him for a second, dropping his head to kiss me lightly on the neck, burrowing into my hair. It is only a moment and then he lets me go but it seemed to last a lifetime and, as I move away from him the sensations, the emotions are so strong I feel dizzy with them and put a hand against the wall to steady myself. Seeing it Connor put his arm around me and we walk out to the car with my head on his shoulder.