Did I take our playful repartee too far there? I said.
Oh no, I’m sorry. I was just trying to come up with something nice to say to you, but everything I can think of sounds …
Insincere?
Too sincere, he said. Needy. I’m thinking, how do you flatter your ex-girlfriend, but in a kind of aloof way?
I laughed then and so did he. The relief of our mutual laughter was very sweet, and it dispelled the feeling that he would hang up on me, at least for the moment. Beside me a bus rattled through some standing water and wet my shins. I was walking away from college, toward St Stephen’s Green.
You were never a big compliments guy, I said.
No, I know. It’s something I regret.
Sometimes when drunk, you were nice.
Yeah, he said. Is that it, I was only nice to you when I was drunk?
I laughed again, on my own this time. The phone seemed to be transmitting some weird radioactive energy into my body, making me walk very fast and laugh about nothing.
You were always nice, I said. That’s not what I meant.
You’re feeling sorry for me, are you?
Nick, I haven’t heard from you in a month, and we’re only talking now because you got my name mixed up with your wife’s. I don’t feel sorry for you.
Well, I’ve been very strict with myself about not calling you, he said.
We were quiet then for a few seconds but neither of us hung up.
Are you still in the supermarket? I said.
Yeah, where are you? You’re outside now.
Walking up the street.
The restaurants and bars all had miniature Christmas trees and fake sprigs of holly in the window. A woman went past holding the hand of a tiny blonde child who was complaining about the cold.
I waited for you to call me, I said.
Frances, you told me you didn’t want to see me any more. I wasn’t going to harass you after that.
I stopped randomly outside an off-licence, looking at the bottles of Cointreau and Disaronno stacked up in the window like jewels.
How’s Melissa? I said.
She’s okay. She’s under a lot of pressure with deadlines. You know, which is why I’m calling to make sure I won’t be in trouble for buying the wrong kind of vegetable.
Groceries seem to play a big role in how she responds to stress.
I’ve actually tried explaining that to her, he said. How’s Bobbi?
I turned away from the window and went on walking up toward the top of the street. The hand holding the phone was getting cold, but my ear was hot.
Bobbi’s good, I said.
I hear you’re back together now.
Well, she’s not my girlfriend as such. We’re sleeping together, but I think that’s a way of testing the limits of best friendship. I actually don’t know what we’re doing. It seems to be working okay.
That’s very anarchist of you, he said.
Thanks, she’ll be pleased with that.
I waited at the lights, to cross over to St Stephen’s Green. The headlamps of cars flashed past and at the top of Grafton Street some buskers were singing ‘Fairytale of New York’. An illuminated yellow billboard read THIS CHRISTMAS … EXPERIENCE TRUE LUXURY.
Can I ask your advice on something? I said.
Yeah, of course. I think I show consistently poor judgement in my own decision-making, but if you think it would help we can give it a shot.
You see, there’s something I’m keeping from Bobbi, and I don’t know how to tell her about it. I’m not being coy, it’s nothing to do with you.
I’ve never suspected you of coyness, he said. Go on.
I told him I would cross the road first. It was dark then, and everything was gathered around points of light: shop windows, faces flushed with cold, a row of taxis idling along the kerb. I heard a shake of reins and the sound of hooves across the street. Entering the park through a side gate the noise of traffic seemed to turn itself down, like it caught in the bare branches and dissolved in air. My breath laid a white path in front of me.
Remember I had to go to the hospital for a consultation last month? I said. And I told you it went fine.
At first Nick said nothing. Then he said: I’m still in the shop now. Maybe I’ll get back in my car and we can talk, okay? It’s kind of noisy here, just give me ten seconds. I said sure. In my left ear I could hear the soft white sound of water, footsteps approaching and receding, and in my right ear I could hear the voice of the automated cashier as Nick walked past the tills. Then the automatic doors, and then the car park. I heard the beep that his car made when he unlocked it remotely, and then I could hear him get inside and shut the door. His breath was louder in the silence.
You were saying, he said.
Well, it turns out I have this condition where the cells in my uterus are growing in the wrong places. Endometriosis, you’ve probably heard of it, I hadn’t. It’s not dangerous or anything, but they can’t cure it, so it’s kind of a chronic pain issue. I faint pretty often, which is awkward. And I might not be able to have children. I mean, they don’t know if I will or not. It’s probably a stupid thing to be upset about since they don’t even know yet.
I walked by a streetlight which cast my shadow long and witchy in front of me, so long that the tips of my body faded into nothing.
It’s not stupid to be upset about that, he said.
Is it not?
No.
The last time I saw you, I said. When we got into bed together and then you told me you wanted to stop, I thought, you know. I don’t feel good to you any more. Like, you can feel that there’s something wrong with me. Which is crazy since I’ve had this disease the whole time anyway. But that was the first time we were together after you started sleeping with Melissa and maybe I was feeling vulnerable, I don’t know.
He breathed in and out into the receiver. I didn’t need him to say anything then, to explain what he was feeling. I stopped at a small damp bench beside a bronze bust and sat down.
And you haven’t told Bobbi about the diagnosis, he said.
I haven’t told anyone. Just you. I feel like talking about it will make people see me as a sick person.
A man walking a Yorkshire terrier went past, and the terrier noticed me and strained at its lead to get at my feet. It was wearing a quilted jacket. The man flashed me a quick smile, apologetic, and they moved on. Nick said nothing.
Well, what do you think? I said.
About Bobbi? I think you should tell her. You can’t control what she thinks of you anyway. You know, sick or healthy, you’re never going to be able to do that. What you’re doing now is deceiving her just for the illusion of control, which probably isn’t worth it. I don’t rate my own advice very highly, though.