The phone rang as the last couple of customers were dilly-dallying over their last couple mouthfuls of beer.
"Fitzgerald's." Assumpta answered, as always.
"Hiya." The two tiny sounds, barely words, were unmistakably Peter, and he was unmistakably exhausted.
"Hi." She turned away from Brendan's insatiable curiosity.
"You alright?" He said.
"Sure. Brendan's watching me like a fox. Fancies himself a body guard, I suspect."
"Good." Even one syllable words and he sounded ravaged.
"That was pretty rough today." Assumpta said, hoping doing so would give him a kind of permission to admit it.
"No, it was fine. Well, not great, but necessary. I don't know. I thought it went okay."
"Maybe." She didn't particularly want to argue about the merits of what was done and, fingers crossed, over with.
"Are you alright?" He asked.
"Oh, yeah." She half laughed.
"Look, I, ah," he sighed heavily.
"What is it?"
"I have to go to Manchester."
"What?"
"My mum's-" another breath, heavy and haggard, "she's not doing so good."
"Oh, God."
"I know the timing is just-"
"Don't worry about that. Is it serious?"
"Think so, yeah."
God, would he ever get a break? One thing after another. But he clearly wasn't thinking about that. He went on, "I'm sorry to leave you with all this to deal with. I mean, the timing is the worst."
"No, you have to go."
"Yeah."
"When?"
"Earliest I can get is out of Dublin tomorrow morning."
"Right." She turned, hoping the place had miraculously emptied out but no such luck.
Brendan caught her eye. "Everything alright?"
"Yeah." She didn't really expect him to believe her.
"We'll be off then, eh?" Brendan got up and held the door open till Siobhan went through it. "See you tomorrow 'Ssumpta."
"'Night." She said, waited for the latch to click then turned back to the phone. "You still there?"
"Yeah."
"They've all cleared off, if you want to come over."
She could hear the smile in his answer, "If I want to?"
"What time's your flight?"
"Half past eleven."
"I'll drive you."
"What? No, I can take the bus."
"I'll drive you. You might be a little early, but I'll be back in time to open."
After a beat he said, "I'll see you in a few."
She hung up, a smile sneaking onto her features despite everything.
In a few, he'd said. A few what? Hours? Days? The bottle of red had well and truly breathed now. She was about to call and make sure no further tragedy had struck – it'd hardly surprise her at this point.
He let himself in the back door and she kept her seat at the bar. If he was trying to keep it together she'd hardly help by rushing into a bear hug.
He pulled a bulging ruck sack off his back and balanced it against a leg of the kitchen table.
"What's all this?" She raised an eyebrow to the bag.
"Just wanted to be sure I was ready for tomorrow."
She nodded. "Staying over then?"
He was too damn cute, nervous and embarrassed like that. "Just wanted to be prepared for any eventuality."
"It's not a gamble, Peter. Do you want to stay?"
He let out a breath. The question hardly required an answer.
"Glass of wine?"
His nod was barely perceptible. He walked around to sit beside her at the bar. "Thanks."
"You alright?"
He picked up his glass and lifted it, just barely, in a silent toast to something or other, but didn't answer the question.
"You certain it's serious?"
He nodded. "Yeah, Ben knows I'm always near-broke. He wouldn't have -" He sighed, shook his head. "It shouldn't have come as a surprise, anyway."
"But it always does."
"Maybe." His eyes closed for a moment, "I didn't mean to abandon you in the middle of all this, but it's - "
"It's your mum." She finished for him.
He nodded, struggling. "How old were you?"
"Twenty."
"I thought it was after you finished college."
"It was." She tilted her head, trying to read his face, "I was quick."
He smiled at that. "I offered to answer everyone's questions but now you're going to get it."
"If there are any questions left."
He watched her. "What did Niamh say?"
"This and that. It doesn't matter. You have to go. Niamh and the lot of them will just have to grow up or I'll bar them."
"What, the whole town?"
"If that's what it takes."
He swirled his wine and took a slow drink. "This is the good stuff."
"Are you closet to her?"
He shrugged, "When we see each other we are. We're not great at keeping in touch."
She watched his fingers toying with the stem of the wine glass. "Do they know?"
He shook his head. "I hadn't thought of a single one of them in weeks."
"Distracted, was it?"
He smiled. "Probably."
"You don't have to say. You know that right? I know you want to be honest, keep things above board but," she put her empty glass on the bar but didn't refill it right away, "that ship sailed a few weeks back."
"I'll tell them. I don't want to keep this a secret. I know right this minute I don't look it, and maybe this afternoon I didn't sound it, but do you have any idea how happy I am?"
She laughed at that. He looked miserable. "Understated bliss."
"Before Ben phoned I was walking around my place, sorting out which is my stuff and which is Brian's, with this ridiculous grin on my face, just glad that for a few hours I didn't have to keep it under wraps."
She lay her fingers over his hand on his knee. "I know. It's a god damned roller coaster."
He turned his hand and laced his fingers with hers. "What did Niamh say?" He held tight to her hand before she could pull away.
"She doesn't think much of me, turns out."
"That's not true."
"She's not entirely wrong. I did marry Leo. I loved you then. But she doesn't believe that bit."
"What bit?"
"That I love you."
He glowed a little as she said it. "Well what does she think?"
She shrugged. "I don't know, that this is a whim? That I'll break your heart. You know, I don't think she blames you at all. And she won't be the only one."
He gritted his teeth. "I can't run off when things are like this."
"You have to."
"Come with me."
"What, and ask Niamh to cover?"
"Come with me."
She shook her head. "I can't intrude like that. And I can't leave this place. I just have to face the music. I'll be fine. It all pales in comparison to what you'll be facing."
He took a gulp of wine and put his glass down on the bar, resting his arm there.
She took that hand too. "You never know. Miracles happen." She met his gaze. "Apparently."
He smiled at that, then cocked his head to the side. "Not that I've ever seen one."
"When did that stop you believing in something?" She said but immediately thought of one instance; that stupid sweating statue debacle. Still, with regards his Mum, nothing was certain yet. Surely. "Don't give up, yeah?"
He looked so tired. "Are you trying to tell me to have faith?"
"See? Miracles."
He didn't even smile. She slipped off the stool and pulled him to standing and into an embrace at once. He pressed the side of his nose into her temple and said, "What are we going to do?"
"Nothing." She rubbed his back. "Right now, nothing. Another glass of wine, bed, or just nothing at all."
He held her tight. "Thank you."
We're getting into territory I feel like I've already written before... or several other people have. Any requests here? Questions? Suggestions? Items on your wishlists? Consider this your chance to play pick-a-path.
Or maybe I'll wrap this one up, as much fun as I'm having writing it. I do have an idea for a sweet little epilogue scene. It'll make you gag. You'll love it.