I smiled; it was a good line. She looked incredibly beautiful, her long dark hair now shoulder-length and her eyes glowing with as much intelligence and wit as they ever had.
“Sorry, I got a little sidetracked,” I told her. “Can I get you a drink, Alice?”
“A glass of white wine. Large.”
“Any particular kind?”
“The most expensive that they have.”
I nodded and made my way to the bar. When I brought it back to the table, she had taken my seat by the wall, giving her a view of the room and demoting me to the stool opposite her. My drink and newspaper had been moved too.
“Your hair’s a lot thinner than it used to be,” she said, taking a sip from her drink and ignoring my attempt to clink glasses. “You’ve not exactly gone to seed but you could stand to lose a few pounds. Do you exercise much?”
“It’s not that easy,” I said, nodding toward my crutch, which she must have overlooked, and she had the good grace to look a little abashed.
“We should have gone to the Horseshoe Bar really, shouldn’t we?” she said. “Picked up where we left off? The last time I saw you was in there. You were working the room and looked as happy as I’d ever seen you.”
“Did I?” I asked, doubting this. “Really?”
“Yes, you did.”
“OK.”
“And then I never saw you again.”
A long silence.
“Well, at least I made it up the aisle that day,” she continued finally. “The previous time I didn’t even get that far. It was what I liked to think of as progress. My hope is that next time around I’ll get to the end of the honeymoon.”
“I don’t know what to say to you, Alice,” I said, unable to meet her eye. “I really don’t. I’m extremely ashamed of what I did to you. It was cowardly and cruel and heartless.”
“That’s putting it mildly.”
“The man you’re talking to,” I replied, choosing my words carefully. “The man you’re talking to is not the man who walked out of the Shelbourne all those years ago.”
“Isn’t he? Because he sure as hell looks like him. Only less attractive. And you didn’t walk, you ran.”
“I can’t excuse my actions,” I continued. “And nor can I atone for what I did to you, but I am able to look back now, all these years later, and see how my life was always going to reach a moment where I would have to face up to who I was. Who I am. Of course, I should have done it long before, and I certainly should never have dragged you into my problems, but I didn’t have the courage or maturity to be honest with myself, let alone with anyone else. But on the other hand, my life is my life. And I am who I am because of what I went through back then. I couldn’t have behaved any differently, even if I’d wanted to.”
“Do you know,” she said, her tone hardening now, “I never thought I’d lay eyes on you again, Cyril. I really didn’t. And if I’m honest, I hoped that I never would.”
“I’m assuming that there’s nothing I can say to make any of it better?”
“You assume correctly.”
“You have to understand that—”
“Just stop,” she said, putting her glass down loudly on the table. “Just stop, all right? I’m not here to rehash the past. I’ve put it behind me. That’s not what we’re here to talk about.”
“Well, you started it,” I said irritably.
“Can you blame me? I think I have the right to a little anger.”
“I’m just trying to explain, that’s all. If you knew what it was like growing up gay in Ireland in the fifties and sixties—”
“I’m not interested in any of that,” said Alice, waving this away. “I’m not a political person.”
“It’s not politics,” I said. “It’s about society and bigotry and—”
“You think you had a terrible time of it, don’t you?”
“Yes. I do.”
“And yet if you’d only been honest with everyone from the start—with Julian, with me—then all of this trouble and heartbreak could have been avoided. Not just mine, but yours too. I don’t doubt that you had difficult times, Cyril. I don’t doubt that you suffered the unfairness of your condition—”
“It’s not a condition—”
“But my brother was your best friend. And isn’t that what best friends are for? Confiding in?”
“He wouldn’t have understood,” I said.
“He would have if you’d told him.”
“I did tell him.”
“You told him five minutes before you were due to marry me!” she said, laughing out loud. “That wasn’t telling him. That was trying to sabotage the marriage so he’d give you permission to walk away. Which you still could have done then, by the way. You could have simply made a run for it, like Fergus did.”
“How could I have done that?” I said lamely. “It would have been history repeating itself.”
“Do you think what you did was any better?”
“No, of course not.”
“It was worse by far. Look, I hated Fergus for what he did to me but at least he had the guts not to go through with something that he didn’t think was right for him. You couldn’t even do that.”
“So I’m worse than he is?” I asked, surprised by the comparison, for in my arrogance I had always believed that he had behaved badly while I had my reasons for what I had done.
“Yes. You are. Because I gave you an out.”
“What?” I asked, frowning at her.
“You must remember. We were out for a drink and I knew there was something wrong, I just didn’t know what. I was too na?ve to guess. Nowadays it would be obvious, I suppose. Whatever it is, just tell me—that’s what I said to you. I promise that it will be all right. If you had told me—”
“I tried to tell you,” I said quickly. “Several times. The first night we met, as adults I mean, I thought I could tell you.”
“What?” she asked, dumbfounded by this. “When?”
“The night Julian was going off traveling with those Finnish twins. I was about to tell you and—”
“What are you talking about?” she cried. “That was before we even started dating!”
“I was about to tell you,” I repeated. “Only we got interrupted by your brother. And then another time, over dinner, the words nearly came out but something inside me wouldn’t let them. And even a few weeks before the wedding, we were in a bar together and a man came over to ask for your phone number. I was about to tell you but suddenly he was standing there, talking to you, and when he’d gone the moment seemed to have passed and—”
“Christ, you’re such a shit, do you know that?” said Alice. “You were a shit back then and I can see that you’re a total shit still. A selfish, arrogant, conceited shit who thinks the world has done you such a bad turn that you can do whatever you like to get back at it. No matter who you hurt. And you wonder why I didn’t tell you about Liam?”
“If it’s any consolation, my life after I left you wasn’t easy. It got better for a while but eventually—”
“Cyril,” she said, interrupting me. “I’m sorry, but I really don’t care. I have no problem with your way of life, I really don’t. As it happens, I have several gay friends.”