Dublin Noir - Ken Bruen [29]
“Bollocks they will,” Patrick said, looking up. His eyes were red and teary. “The cops never catch those fuckers.”
“It’s my fault,” Kathy said.
“Why’s it your fault?” Patrick said. “This city’s going to shit, I’m telling you. Bastards.”
The man in the suit returned and said, “The Gardaí will be here soon.”
“Not soon enough, I’m afraid,” Patrick said.
“You never know,” Kathy said. “Maybe they’ll catch the guy.”
“Yeah, I’m sure they’ll try really hard to find a laptop,” Patrick said.
“Yeah, it’s doubtful they’ll catch him,” the waitress said.
“I don’t know what to say,” Kathy said. “I feel responsible.”
“What do you mean?” Patrick said.
“You asked me to watch it and I didn’t. I got distracted. It’s my fault, I guess.”
“I don’t know what I’ll do,” Patrick said. “It took me a year to save up for that computer. And they cost a lot here—much more than in America.”
“I’m really sorry,” Kathy said. “Wait, I know.” She reached into her purse. “Let me give you some money.”
“Don’t bother,” Patrick said.
“No, it was my fault—here.” She dug into her purse. “This is all the cash I have—here, take it.” She handed Patrick some bills. She wasn’t sure exactly how much was there, but she’d exchanged $200 into euros at the airport.
“Really, I appreciate the offer,” Patrick said, “but it’s not necessary.”
“Please, you have to,” Kathy said. “I feel awful.”
“I’m not taking your money.”
“You have to. Come on, I know it’s not enough for a new laptop, but it’ll have to help. It’ll make me feel so much better if you took it.”
“It’s really not necessary,” Patrick said. “It took me two years to save up for this and I can save up again. Until then, it’s back to pen and paper, I suppose.”
The waitress shook her head and went away to take someone’s order.
“Good luck,” the man in the suit said, and he went back into the café.
“I guess the Gardaí’ll be here soon,” Patrick said to Kathy. “You don’t have to wait.”
Kathy was still holding the money. She was starting to cry. “You have to take the money,” she said. “If you don’t, I won’t be able to stop thinking about it my whole trip and I’ll have a horrible time. Please, just take it.”
Patrick looked away for a few moments then turned back and said, “I suppose if you’re insisting …”
Kathy gave Patrick the money. She apologized a few more times then just wanted to get away. She took her map, then went into the café to charge the bill on her AmEx since she didn’t have any more cash. When she returned Patrick was still waiting for the police, wiping tears from his cheeks.
“I really am sorry,” Kathy said.
“It’s all right,” Patrick replied. “Have a great time in Dublin, all right?”
“I’ll try to.”
Kathy walked away, relieved. Following Patrick’s instructions, she ambled along Grafton Street and across the Hapenny Bridge. Still shaken up, she wasn’t able to absorb much of the city. For a couple of hours, she just wandered around, window shopping, figuring she’d do the real touristy stuff tomorrow. She was hungry and went to one of the restaurants that Patrick had suggested—an excellent Thai place on Andrew Street. Surprisingly, she didn’t feel at all awkward or self-conscious sitting at a table alone and she didn’t miss Jim at all. She had a couple of glasses of wine with dinner and got a little drunk. When she left the restaurant, she passed a cyber café and decided to just get it the hell over with already. She logged onto her e-mail account and wrote Jim a note.
Jim,
I’m sick of this bullshit. You’re a liar and you hurt me so bad and I just can’t pretend anymore. You can keep the apartment—I don’t care anymore. But I’m taking Sammy and the leather love seat. I’ll pick up the rest of my stuff when I get back to the city. And don’t forget, YOU caused this, not me. YOU fucked up!!
Goodbye (for good this time!!!!!)
Kathy
She clicked send, logged off, and left the café. She felt great, like she’d definitely done the right thing. She’d taken too much of Jim’s crap for too long and it was time to move on. She knew her friends would be proud of her.
On her way back to her hotel,