At Swim, Two Boys - Jamie O'Neill [212]
“Did you swim at school?”
“I did, relays and dash. After college, I even worked at a London pool. What they call a life-saver. Had to hide the work from my people, of course. I just liked to be by the water.”
“So do I.”
“Yes, I know you do.”
“I don’t fear it though.”
“You ought to, Jim. And you will need to be careful with other things too.”
“I couldn’t give a tip for being careful.”
“You will have to be, and that fellow with you.”
That fellow gave a snort in his sleep. “I’ll check his temperature,” said Jim. He went to refresh the bowl, came back, flanneled Doyler’s face. It was very beautiful to see his unselfconscious care. One boy caring for another boy. It was very beautiful.
He came back to the sofa. He lifted MacMurrough’s wine and silently gave it into his hand. They listened to the night sounds through the window, while the mood recouped, repossessed them.
“MacEmm, can I ask you? I don’t know does it mean . . . does it mean anything with marrying, MacEmm? Doyler and me.”
“No Jim, you can’t ask me that.”
“I don’t know, you see.”
“I haven’t cigarettes to be answering questions like that.”
“I can get you cigarettes out of FitzGerald’s.”
“FitzGerald’s is closed.”
“I never thought of it before and then I wondered, is it this way you’d be with a wife? You see, I don’t know.”
“Wouldn’t you be wiser waiting and see?”
He turned, carefully. “MacEmm, you haven’t this brought from England with you, you know. It was here anyway. I wasn’t the first in the Crock’s Garden and I doubt I’ll be the last. I’m sorry for the soldier for I doubt I was much comfort to him and I hope he found better joy where he went. But you know I wouldn’t live that way. I have to make it different. It will be different. Won’t it?”
“I hope it will, my dear.”
“Say it will.”
“It will, so.”
“I know people don’t like us. Boys at school and in the band, Fahy for instance—from the start they never liked seeing us together. Strange, for when I was alone nobody ever noticed me even. It makes me think did they know before we did. But how would they know?”
He broke off. A squeak outside, a scringe on the windowpane. “Bats,” he said.
“Yes,” said MacMurrough. “There’s an owl too sometimes. And there’s a blackbird in the morning. He’ll wake you if the crows don’t. You can tell the time from the tree he’s singing from.”
“And the sea too. It’s a wonderful house.” He gave that blink which had a feeling of velvet when the lashes came down. He yawned and MacMurrough too felt tiredness come upon him. “I keep thinking how lucky I was meeting you, MacEmm. It’s a gift you’ve gave me. It might have been so different. How empty it would be if we didn’t know—it’s like a secret really—didn’t know how we could be.”
“You’ll have me tearful soon, young man.” He pecked him on the forehead. “Come, we’ll make up your bed.”
A little of his fine-pretty-fellow returned and he said, “Anyway, why would I want to be careful? Won’t I have you to be looking over me, in your grand house too?”
You shall not, thought MacMurrough. And the lease on this house will not be renewed.
They shifted the sofa to Doyler’s bedside. MacMurrough found rugs and pillows while Jim refilled the warming-pan at the fire—yes, fire in the room and the windows ajar, the extravagance. The boy went out with the pot and returned, maidenly, with it cleaned. Doyler was deep asleep with an interrupted, minor, snore, like a dog’s.
“He’ll be fine,” said Jim.
“He will of course. Do you need a pajamas?”
“Do you wear pajamas?”
“No.”
“I don’t so.”
“Goodnight then, Jim.”
“Wait a moment. Wait till I’m in bed.”
He was undressing. He had his shirt pulled out and underneath its folds MacMurrough watched his fingers unbuckle his belt. The boy watched too, as though unsure of the procedure, darting upward glances at MacMurrough. The trousers unbuttoned and they slipped to the floor. He stepped out of them. His shoulder lifted, and he rubbed it along his neck and chin,