No Way to Say Goodbye - Anna McPartlin [47]
Late afternoon, and after a long walk, she arrived at her destination. The piece she had been asked to cover was a story about a young Corkwoman, Lacey Doyle, who’d travelled to an exotic location only to become a bomb victim, returning home minus her legs. Despite this she’d been deemed lucky: her best friend, who had been standing less than ten feet away from her, could only be identified by DNA. The crux of Penny’s story lay in the revolutionary new limbs Lacey’s supporters had paid for. It was all very complicated and Penny wasn’t sure how they were different from any others. They were state-of-the-art in a weird futuristic way. The manufacturers had made no attempt to create the illusion of real legs. The girl’s skin met metal and at the end there was a shoe but she didn’t seem to care. She spoke a lot about their flexibility and was happy to demonstrate. Every time she exposed her stumps, though, Penny felt a little sick.
“It’s horrible, isn’t it?” Lacey asked chirpily.
“No,” Penny lied, “it’s fine.”
“My legs were ripped off – it’s OK to feel a little repulsed.” Lacey laughed at Penny, who had gone very pale.
“OK,” Penny conceded, “I do feel a little sick.”
“I couldn’t look down for six months,” Lacey admitted.
“What changed?”
“I got bored looking up.” Lacey giggled and Penny joined in.
“I don’t know how you get over something like that,” said Penny. She was a lot more interested in the woman who’d lost her legs than the revolutionary replacements.
“You don’t,” Lacey said. “You just get on with things. You either do that or you rot.” She grinned. “And there was George.”
“George?” Penny asked, intrigued.
“My boyfriend – well, actually he’s my fiancé now. We got engaged last month.”
Penny’s mouth almost fell open.
“You’re surprised anyone would marry me,” Lacey said.
“No.” Penny was horrified that she was so transparent.
“I was surprised too,” Lacey confirmed. “It was a year before I could let him touch me, never mind anything else.”
Penny wasn’t sure she wanted to hear any more.
“Sex was a nightmare at first,” Lacey said, “but it got better,” she nodded, “and now it’s good.”
Penny was glad she was sitting down as her own legs were feeling a little shaky.
“You’re sickened again, aren’t you?” Lacey asked.
Penny smiled. “Yes, but it’s not what you think.”
“What, then?” Lacey asked.
“I’m jealous.”
“Jealous?”
“Pathetic, isn’t it?”
“A little bit. Can I ask why?”
“At least you’re not alone,” she said, and a tear escaped.
She had burst into tears in front of an interviewee – was she having a breakdown? Penny couldn’t face driving home so she booked into a hotel and headed for the bar where she ordered vodka on the rocks.
“Tough day?” the barman asked.
“I met a bomb victim without legs who’s happier than I am,” she said quietly, raised her glass and drank.
“Jaysus, your life must really suck,” he said, and grinned.
“What part of Dublin are you from?” she asked automatically.
“What part do you want me to be from?” He winked.
“A part where they answer direct questions with direct answers,” she said, draining her glass.
He laughed. “Crumlin. You want another?”
She nodded.
“What about you? Where are you from?” He handed her the refilled glass.
“Nowhere,” she said.
“You’re homeless, then?”
“Home is where the heart is,” she said, with a bitter laugh.
“And where’s your heart?”
“Lost.” She raised her hands in the air, then drank the vodka in one.
“Women! Does the drama ever end?” he said.
“You tell me,” she said, with a hint of a grin.
The bar was quiet and he had little to do but flirt with her so she stayed there, drinking vodka after vodka, talking with the barman from Dublin. When he got off his shift she led him up to her room.
“I’m married,” he said.
“So was my boyfriend.” She closed the door behind them.
The next morning she awoke alone