Lyrebird

Laura makes the sound of a gunshot. A fallen hare. A whimpering dying animal.

‘Yeah.’ Rory looks down, scratches his head awkwardly. ‘I wanted to talk to you about that. I came here to apologise.’ He looks genuinely sorry, embarrassed even. ‘Can we talk? I know a good place.’

Rory and Laura sit opposite one another in Mulligans, a dark pub, as shut away from others as possible. They’re in the quietest corner they can find because as soon as Laura entered everybody stared. Everybody knew who she was, from young to old, and if they didn’t recognise her, they certainly knew her name and of her abilities. The first drink is on the house, as a welcome to Lyrebird. Rory orders a Guinness and Laura has a water. He doesn’t comment on her choice, he’s messed up so much with her that he’s keen not to make any more mistakes. He’d called Solomon to apologise for what had happened at the shooting range, which had taken him a lot to do, especially to Solomon. He asked to speak to Laura but Solomon was adamant that he couldn’t, too busy keeping her to himself, which angered Rory even more. His brother had a girlfriend already, yet was protecting this woman like he owned her. His brother was always like that. Private about things, he kept things to himself, never let Rory in. Things between them had always been stilted, awkward, there was no easy banter like there was with the others. Rory understood the others, who laughed at his humour and even if they didn’t laugh, they understood it. Solomon never did. He took offence easily, he always passed judgement on Rory.

Rory was embarrassed about the entire shooting range debacle. With hindsight, he could see it was an asshole stupid thing to do, but at the time he’d felt so compelled to get Laura to notice him that he hadn’t thought about the repercussions; about the danger, about the sheer psychotic way it would make him look. It was one thing messing up on his own, it was another to do it in front of his brothers and dad, not to mention in front of Laura.

Of course Solomon wouldn’t accept his apology, kicking him when he already felt down, and he knew that he wouldn’t pass his messages along to Laura. After he’d watched her audition on TV and the whole world was talking about her, he knew he had to come and see her himself. She wasn’t hard to find, any newspaper could tell you her whereabouts, and as soon as he saw she was staying in a Dublin hotel he knew getting to her there without Solomon around was his best chance.

He studies Laura now. She’s unusual, but the most beautiful kind of unusual. Exotic, in a Cork mountains way. He wonders what happened at the apartment, and what made her leave Solomon and Bo. But his brother’s loss was his gain, that’s the way it has always been.

First, an apology – not that he doesn’t really mean it; he intends to show how much he means it in the most genuine way possible. Big eyes, he knows the trick. Girls love that shit.

Laura’s head feels light as she sits in the pub with Rory. She’s had two glasses of white wine and she’s not used to its effects on her. She likes it, she could have more. She doesn’t feel so confused any more, that pounding headache that arrived in Galway after Rory’s gunshot, the one that throbbed right behind her eyes, is now gone. She doesn’t think it ever left her, just intensified in moments of stress. It’s fitting that her headache is gone, as Rory was the first to put it there and now he is the one to take it away. Or the wine is, but either way, he’s responsible. He’s funny, she hasn’t stopped laughing since he started talking. She genuinely believes that he’s sorry for what he did, even if he is heightening his apology more than she believes is true. He’s doing the flirty thing with his face that the photographer was doing, softening his eyes. It’s not real but they seem to believe it works, whatever it is. Not that he should be sorry at all for what he did. She’s not judge and jury, it was an incident that affected her deeply, but she doesn’t think she has a higher authority over anyone and tells him so.

He’s like his father. He tells long stories about mischievous nights out, stories of him and his brothers as teenagers. He seems to have spent more time stitching his brothers up than anything else, but he’s gleeful about it. She likes to hear these stories, particularly the ones about Solomon, about what he was like when he was younger. She tries to limit her questions after she senses him tensing when she asks too many, so she chooses to sit back and listen, waiting for the next mention with hope. When Rory says something about Solomon’s ex-girlfriends she tries not to sit up too much, or make her interest too obvious. What she learns is that the girls he dated were always edgy, weird; one girl he dated seriously for a few years went to art college and the family had attended her exhibition on feet. Hairy, yellow-nailed feet; then he laughs, and Laura isn’t sure whether it is true or not.

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