When All Is Said(74)

I got them in Dublin, the pills. Tried to con the Doc into giving me some. But he was having none of it. A counsellor, that’s what he wanted to give me. A fecking counsellor.

Didn’t take me as long as I’d thought to find Gizzo up in Dublin. Tall as a giraffe and a Jimi Hendrix tattoo on his left hand. Not that young David ever knew why I questioned him so much about his misguided youth. Walked into the Galley Bar and there he was, sat in the corner booth. I wore an old, moth-eaten coat, long enough to cover my shotgun strapped to my belt. All I was short of was a Stetson and a horse.

‘I hear you supply all sorts,’ I said to him. Another lad sat beside him, Deco or Eamo maybe. We didn’t exactly introduce ourselves. Gizzo had me up out of the place fairly lively. His hand jammed right into my armpit, pushing me through the doors.

‘What the fuck, man? You can’t be at that in there. You’ll get me barred,’ he said, hoisting me down a lane behind the pub. My blood was pumping. What was the worst he could do, I kept saying over and over in my head, shoot me? Wouldn’t that’ve been a good one?

‘I’m a friend of David’s. David Flynn,’ was all I could think of babbling, God forgive me, I hope the kid never finds out.

‘David? Fuck me, man. Haven’t heard from him in years. Heard the Da died.’

Polite young man, I have to say.

‘You can get anything you want, old-timer,’ he told me when I’d explained my predicament, ‘once you’re willing to pay through the nose.’ How he laughed at that one. ’Course, I didn’t know what I wanted, I just knew what the end result needed to be. I waited a half hour or so in the lane with the rubbish and the used condoms until he came back like he said he would.

‘Amiods, Digs and Zeps man. Just crush ’em and mix ’em. Wash ’em down with a bit of booze. And bam. Gone. Adios, amigo.’ I took the little bag he offered and left. Had there been a follow-up survey, he’d have gotten five stars.

I shake those crushed pills about in the glass, still fascinated by them, by this, by me.

There’ll be no letter, Kevin. That’d take a whole evening in itself. Instead I want you to hear my voice, so you know for sure this is what I want. My voice. Did I ever tell you it was my voice your mother fell in love with?

‘So deep and smooth,’ she said, not long after we were married, ‘I could’ve closed my eyes and listened to it all day, the first time we met.’ Imagine.

From the bed, I take your picture, my phone and glasses and bring them to the writing desk. The towel, I fold and push towards the end. Jefferson’s, pills, phone and picture – all before me. I put on my glasses. Ready at last.

I tip the red button and my voice tumbles out, exhausted but steady:

‘Son, it’s me – Dad. By now, I’ll be, em … gone. I’m not one for letters, as you know. How many of those have you gotten from me over the years, what? No, that was more you and your mother. You were good with the words, the two of you. You got it from her, of course.

‘I want you to know, son, I’m sorry. Not for dying, not for going, although I … I know it won’t be easy. But no, I mean, sorry for the father I’ve been. I know, really I do, that I could’ve been better. That I could’ve listened more, that I could’ve accepted you and all you’ve become with a little more grace. I’m in awe of you, is the truth of it. The man you are, the goodness you possess, your brightness, your cleverness. I feel a lesser man standing beside you, having watched you grow into this big strapping man of letters.

‘I want you to know I’ve read your articles, every one. It took me a while, I’ll admit, but in the last two years I’ve read every one. Even did a bit of your mother on it and looked it all up, and you, yes, I googled you. And there you were. The amount of stuff on you, I couldn’t believe it. Sure you’re everywhere. I even googled myself and there I was missing. So in my own way, I did find you. I met you there in print and on the screen. I’m sorry it’s taken me until now to tell you I see it – I see your brilliance and your kindness. I see it all and I love it – I love you.

‘There are things I regret, Kevin, like how I never shook your hand for working beside me every Saturday when you were younger, hating every moment of it but doing it anyway. And how I shut you out when your mother died. That was … that was wrong.

‘God almighty, I had hoped I could spare you the tears but there you go … Achmm, achmm … Sorry now.

‘I drank your Jefferson’s tonight. She’s a beauty. I raised a glass in your honour. I had a toast for your mother and Auntie No-no and little Molly and your Uncle Tony too.

‘I want you to know I’ve gone on my own terms, Kevin. This life has been good to me. This is no tragedy. You know I’m not one for illness or nursing homes; I couldn’t have done that, Kevin, because the way I saw it, that’s where we were headed. Be honest, it’s better this way.

‘I remember Rosaleen holding your hand the day of your mother’s funeral. She’s a good woman, Rosaleen. I know I’ve not given her the credit she’s deserved over the years. Tell her I’ve asked that she hold your hand again now.

‘To my Adam and Caitríona, I send my deepest, deepest love. I know I must’ve played the part of crotchety grandfather well for them over their young years. Give them a kiss for me and tell them Granny and Grandad will be watching over them.