CHAPTER TEN – THE FACTS OF LIFE
"Peter, can I ask you a question?" Anne asked taking a seat next to her new friend and pressing her back firmly against the brick.
"Yeah," Peter said putting his finger tips to the bridge of his nose.
"Are you still a priest?"
"No, not exactly, I was advised to leave," Peter glanced around awkwardly.
"So why didn't you marry?"
Peter glared back.
"Dated? Once? Kissed a girl? Oh come on Peter, she would have wanted you to move on."
Patrick fixed himself his own cup of coffee and shuffled into the living room. His hair was mussed, his t-shirt wrinkled, his plaid pattered flannel pants just slightly too long and covering his bare feet. He took a sip of the coffee and made a face. Not enough milk he decided and got ready to settle down in his favourite chair when he heard two voices.
"Anne it's hardly fair to ask me ..."
"I know Peter, I'm sorry, but if we are alike at all, she would have wanted you to move on."
Patrick recognized the voice and felt himself involuntarily blush. She was back, the beautiful American woman was back. Patrick shuffled himself into his room and quickly dug out a pair of jeans and a nice blue polo shirt. He tucked his cross and St. John's medal inside the collar and ran his hands under the water and through his hair. He found an old bottle of aftershave and lightly patted the side of his face. He knew he was being ridiculous but couldn't help it.
When Patrick opened the door the two of them were still sitting there, empty coffee mugs between then, Anne with her head on Peter's shoulder. Patrick had never met Peter before but he could aim to take a guess at who he was. Oddly enough Patrick hadn't made it down to the pub the night before, and instead met up with some friends in Cildargan which had made for a late night instead.
"Sorry, but do you have the owner's permission to squat here?"
"I thought Brian Quigley died years ago," Peter responded softly.
Anne quickly removed her head from Peter's shoulder and spun around to make eye contact with Patrick. Her face flushed lightly and she fought the urge to bury her head in Peter's shoulder.
"Now is the infamous Brian Quigley I have heard so much about?" Patrick smiled sitting down on Anne's side, "And Peter, heard a lot about you mate," he said extending a hand and reading Peter's face, "all good mate, all good."
"Everyone is gone these days so it seems," Peter commented again.
"Well everyone except Brendan," Anne said with a snort.
"Hey come on now, can't let one rotten apple spoil the bunch! Cheer up!"
"He never used to be a rotten apple," Peter sighed, "What happened to him?"
"Not been the same since Aisling moved, but he will be ok, you know Brendan, and I think all this bringing up the past is getting him down a bit."
"Him and me both," Peter sighed again.
Patrick turned to Anne, "And are you enjoying yourself?"
"A bit," Anne smirked.
"She was buried here right?" Peter blurted out gesturing to the cemetery behind the house and church.
"Assumpta?" responded Patrick quietly.
"Yes, Assumpta, may ... may I see her?"
"Of course."
"I'll wait here for you Peter," Anne said touching his shoulder gently.
Anne watched as Patrick led Peter to the grave site and hugged herself tightly as she watched Peter put his hand to his mouth and kneel to the ground. Patrick placed a hand on Peter's shoulder but he shrugged it away wiping tears from his eyes. Anne found herself running to his side and before she could stop herself. She flung her arms around him rocking this man she barely knew gently back and forth as his sobs flowed hard and loud through clenched teeth.
Peter was angry with himself for not acting sooner, with the church for lying to him, with Assumpta for dying, and it all came out in flood and after flood. Anne just held him and Patrick stood aside as the two grieved together without saying a word.