Chapter 3 – The Polar Bear
Niamh and Ambrose had already left for their rare night out in Cilldargan, baby Kieran was fast asleep in his nursery and Peter was busy preparing his entry for the Chinese Food Festival in the Gard house's kitchen. Without warning, the front door opened and he could hear footsteps in the hall above him. Peter was bemused - the Egan's hadn't told to him to expect anyone.
Assumpta's unmistakable voice echoed down the corridor, "Hi, sorry I'm late!"
"Hi," he replied weakly, his heart beating much faster than it had been just seconds earlier. Why was Assumpta here?
"Peter!" Assumpta exclaimed, equally surprised to find Peter in Niamh's home.
"They've gone," Peter continued, trying to speak in as normal a voice as possible.
"Oh well…erm…thanks for filling in," she managed to stutter in reply.
Assumpta shuffled awkwardly at the top of the stairs, twisting the bottle of wine she had brought with her nervously in her hands. She wasn't quite sure what to do next. She felt like a teenage girl just about to start a date with the boy she'd had a crush on for several weeks. The only differences were she was a grown woman, he was a priest and this wasn't a date! Why did Peter have this effect on her? She knew any feelings she had for him would always be unrequited.
"Ridiculous! Pull yourself together!" she murmured to herself.
Assumpta composed herself as best as she could before heading purposefully down the stairs into the kitchen. Her heart immediately skipped a beat when she saw his tall, athletic frame, propping up the sink. He looked so handsome in his charcoal grey shirt and jeans. He smiled at her, his gentle green eyes lighting up the minute he saw her.
As she walked in, Peter held his breath momentarily. Assumpta appeared more beautiful than he could remember with her milky-white, porcelain skin and tousled auburn hair, a small strand of which hung haphazardly over her right eye. It took all of his strength not to take hold it and place it back where it belonged.
Peter took the bottle of Merlot from her, opened it and poured them both a generous glass.
"Dutch courage," he thought to himself.
They talked awkwardly for several minutes; the kitchen table keeping them a safe distance apart, as the electricity gradually began to build up.
Peter tried to lighten the atmosphere with his 'party-piece', a Sean Connery impersonation from 'The Untouchables'. Assumpta was extremely impressed with the accuracy of his imitation and grinned appreciatively at him.
"Do you do any others?" she enquired nonchalantly.
For some unknown reason, this innocent question touched a raw nerve and Peter's frivolous mood changed instantaneously to one of melancholy. Perhaps it was the combination of alcohol, lack of sleep, his mother's death and the stress of suppressing his feelings for Assumpta for so long that finally got to him? In spite of his genuine fear that she would reject him, he knew he had to tell her how he felt, here and now, but he just couldn't find the right words to tell her directly.
"A priest," Peter mumbled his head bowed to cover his embarrassment.
"Peter, you are a priest!" Assumpta retorted quickly, without fully comprehending what he was intimating.
"Am I?" he continued, challenging her again to understand.
"Last time I looked," she continued matter of fact.
Assumpta pulled herself onto a nearby work surface and watched as Peter deliberately turned away from her. He grabbed hold of the nearest side as if his life depended on it. The knuckles of his strong, slender hands turned whiter and whiter, as he increased his grip. His body language indicated that he was distressed: his shoulders were hunched over; his head hung down in despair; pain was etched across his normally animated face.
"Peter, what's wrong?" she asked.
Her soft Irish lilt was now full of genuine concern for this man, whom she secretly loved.
Peter paused for several seconds as he attempted and failed to make sense of what he wanted to say to her. Without turning to face her, he took a deep breath and began to explain in the only way that he could.
"It's very hard for me….I don't know where to start," Peter whispered, his voice cracking with the enormity of what he was trying to say, "Have you heard the polar bear joke?"
A look of confusion crossed Assumpta's face. He wasn't making much sense. Why was he telling her a joke when he seemed so unhappy?
"Okay. There's a baby polar bear, and he's in the sea, and he climbs out, runs across the ice up to his mum, and he says 'Mum, are you sure I'm a polar bear?' She says 'Don't be silly, course you are. You've got white fur, you eat fish – you're a polar bear. Don't be daft. Get back in the sea.' So he does, but he's not content."
Assumpta couldn't take her eyes of him. Her heart was breaking as she struggled to understand what he was trying to say to her.
Peter continued with his tale, willing her to grasp the meaning of his analogy.
"So he jumps out and this time he runs up to his dad and says, 'Dad am I really a polar bear?' He says, 'What are you talking about? Of course you're a polar bear - you've got white fur, you eat fish, you're a polar bear.' He says, 'Why do you ask?' And the baby bear says 'Because I'm freezing……'"
For several seconds, Assumpta was unable to speak; terrified that she couldn't heal Peter's pain. She knew exactly what he meant. His agonies were the same as hers - he was lonely, believed he was different from everyone else and felt trapped in a situation he thought he could never get out of.
Peter's face fell. He began to chew his bottom lip, agitated at Assumpta's silence which he mistook for her inability to comprehend what he had said. He stepped forward, as near as he dare and looked at her directly in the eye.
"Why am I always thinking of you?" he uttered, his voice barely audible as he tried desperately to curb the tears that were building up in his eyes.
Assumpta stared at him, completely stunned by what he had just said. Peter's words were echoing over and over in her head. Did Peter love her as much as she loved him? All she knew for sure was that this gentle giant of a man was now stood before her, completely and utterly broken. There was only one thing she could do - she had to comfort him. Assumpta exhaled deeply then opened her arms to him.
"Peter, come here," she whispered lovingly.
