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By Root 456 0

have jumped the man whose hand had electrified hers and whose close proximity had set some sort of fire in her – and that would have been bad, because she wasn’t blind. During the time Sam had lived in her small town Mary had noticed the effect he had on women and she didn’t want him to mistake her for another who would fall willingly at his feet. She wanted to know him because he was more than pretty. His eyes betrayed a troubled soul and possibly a fractured heart. Broken herself, she had the capacity to see it in others, despite their attempts to hide it. She was drawn to damaged souls like a moth to a flame. She wanted to help him. She didn’t know how or why or even if she could, but something inside her told her to try. She also knew he wouldn’t be around for much longer and that their time together would be short. Friendship had to be enough.

“I’m glad you called,” he said, while he studied the menu.

“I’m thrilled you came. Besides, I wanted to apologize.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for. I’m the one who invaded your space.”

“Space invader,” she mumbled, and laughed nervously at her own joke.

“That wasn’t funny,” he said, but his eyes gave him away.

“Frig off !”

“Can I ask you something?”

“What?”

“Well, I know what knickers are but what in the hell is a frig?”

“It’s a replacement word for ‘fuck’.”

“Why not just say what you mean?”

“Well, I used to, until Nora Donnelly asked my three-year-old if he wanted an Ice Pop and he told her to go fuck herself.”

He laughed and she laughed with him.

“I stopped swearing then.”

For a minute or two they sat in silence over the menus. “You say, ‘Are you kidding me?’ at least once a day,” Mary told him, out of nowhere.

“I do?”

“Yip.”

“Does it bug you?” He grinned.

“A little bit.”

He laughed. “I’ll do my best to correct that.”

“Don’t. Nobody likes perfect.”

They laughed together and any remaining ice thawed. He turned to look for a waitress, who appeared within a second at his side.

Later, over dessert, they talked about movies. Sam wasn’t really into cinema but it was something to talk about that deflected from his misguided past.

“Robert and I saw St Elmo’s Fire eight times.” They had planned to move to America based on their love affair with that film.

Sam was amused. “You were going to move to the States because of one movie?”

“Well, that and a photography course in NYU.” She sighed. “It would have been good.”

“You could still do it.”

“Yeah, right,” she scoffed. “I’d fit in beautifully.”

“You would.”

“I was being sarcastic.”

“And I was ignoring your sarcasm.”

“What about you? Why didn’t you follow your dream?” she asked.

“How do you know I didn’t?” he asked.

“Do you play guitar for a living?”

“No.”

“Well, then…”

“You’re so sure that’s what I wanted?”

“I am.”

They were quiet for a moment. Then Mary asked, “Sam. What did you do?”

“I told you I was in management.”

“Management of what?”

“Management of people.”

“OK, don’t tell me. But, whether you like it or not, you can’t remain a mystery for ever.”

“Just give me some time,” he said.

Their night ended on her wall. They sat looking out onto a low tide of black water lit by sparse street-lights and uninhabited stranded boats.

“I’ve made so many mistakes,” Sam said, taking Mary by surprise.

“We all make mistakes.”

“Not like me.”

“We all make mistakes,” she repeated.

He said nothing.

“Are you free tomorrow?” she asked.

“For what?”

“If you can be mysterious, so can I.”

*

Penny had spent two weeks locked indoors. She was working on her own assignments, picking up the slack from the Cork correspondent and investing the rest of her time on personal research. She had told Mary she wouldn’t be around for a few weeks and Mary didn’t question it – after all, she was often busy. All the same, her friend must have wondered what kept her off the phone. No matter how busy Penny had been before, she’d always made time for a quick chat, but Penny knew that, over the past while, she and her best pal had been drifting. This was her own fault – after Adam had left she had pushed Mary away. She