Sunny Days in Dublin

Dublin enjoyed the first sunny day in weeks. To celebrate, Glen took a walk up Baggot Street, headed for St. Stephens Green. Lots of people were out, and they were all smiling. Up ahead he noticed a tall woman with a well-toned figure, and there was something familiar about her gait. She stopped at a door.

Glen brightened with recognition and hurried to catch up with her. “Lydia! How nice to see you.”

The woman looked at him and smiled. “Hello, Glen. Lovely day, isn’t it?”

“Lovelier now. What are you up to?”

“Opening up. This is my studio.”

“Really! Are you giving a tour? I’d love to see the facility.”

She eyed him suspiciously. “You’re into yoga?”

“I should get into it, and I’d like to hear how you’re doing. It’s been a long time.” He’d fallen hard for Lydia and chased aggressively. She’d upset the usual order by dumping him. That still hurt.

“You can help me, actually,” she said.

He followed her up the stairs, admiring the view. She was wearing mid-length leggings and a top that hung just past her bum, and he could see the benefits of the practice of yoga.

“How long has it been, Lydia?”

“I was just remembering. It’s four years. We broke up during the spring, so exactly four years.”

She unlocked another door at the landing and led him into a large open space. “Here it is. Playful Stretch, I call it.”

“Wow, big space, and on Baggot too. You must have a lot of students.”

“I can’t complain.” She executed a pirouette in the center of the space. “I also offer ballet,” she said as she turned.

“I didn’t know you did ballet. Wow.”

She smiled knowingly. “There’s a lot you didn’t know about me.”

He nodded. “My mistake. And you? You’re with somebody?”

“I’m married,” she said, showing her ring finger. “Over a year, now.”

“He’s a lucky man. You’re radiant, glowing. More beautiful than when we were together.”

“Well, thanks, Glen. Now, I’ve some shelving to assemble. You up for it?”

They set to work. She read the instructions, and he snapped the pieces together. The kit was well-made, it fit together properly, and they laughed at the tortured English of the instructions. He felt very close to her again. He learned that she’d stopped seeing him to concentrate on Donal, the fellow she’d married.

“What attracted you to him?”

“We talked about what we wanted for the future on our first date.”

“That didn’t scare you?”

“Not at all. We wanted the same things. He endorsed and encouraged my dream to open this studio. We’re expecting, too,” she said and patted her tummy.

“Congratulations! You’ve done well for yourself. A lot of good things have happened to you in four years.”

“Yes, they have. And you? What’ve you to say for yourself?”

What indeed? He’d sold a property at a price he was pleased with, not so easy to do these days. He was keeping his head above water when many of his colleagues were bankrupt. He wasn’t thriving, but he was comfortable. He’d had several girlfriends over those years but didn’t bother to share that. He was also dreading the thought of turning forty-five but kept this to himself, also. “I’m living with Allyson Mooney now.”

“Our Miss Universe? Living with her? Are you finally settling down?”

“I’m happy.”

This was true. He and Allyson had recently celebrated a year of dating, and she’d moved into his house six months ago. That was usually the kiss of death for his relationships, but he still desired her, looked forward to seeing her at the end of a day, and still got excited to be seen with her. They were a striking couple, and her title meant many more invitations came his way.

“I hope the magic happens for you some day, Glen. This feeling of permanence is very comforting. I wish you that.”

“Well, thanks.”

He wanted to stay and soak up more of her good energy, but her next class began to arrive.

The sun was still shining, but he didn’t enjoy it as much. It wasn’t unusual for him to run into old girlfriends. They were all over Dublin. It also wasn’t unusual for them to have gotten married. So why was he so unsettled now?

Lydia’s wish for him to have her feeling of permanence seemed misplaced, as odd as having a conversation about the future on the first date. He thought the future of a new relationship extended to the first act of intercourse. He also knew that some of his unease was due to his upcoming birthday. His father had passed at forty-seven; this ate at him as he neared that mark.

He leaned on a bridge railing at Stephens Green pond and watched the assembled birds. Mother ducks and swans herded their chicks around. Normally he took delight in their antics, but today these feelings were overpowered by one of stagnation as he noted a scrim of algae and litter along the bank. He took a seat on a nearby bench and tried to enjoy the surroundings. Little kids ran barefoot through the grass. Mothers with strollers were too numerous to count. Flowers were in full bloom. Procreation everywhere. He felt curiously alien.

He noted a build-up of clouds in the sky and headed home. Back to work, that would set things straight again. With his recent sale he had money to invest, and there were bargains on the market.

He wasn’t in the mood to scroll through property listings on the Internet, so he called a couple of his friends in the business. That usually cheered him up. He couldn’t reach anyone and supposed they were out enjoying the weather. He checked the calendar he shared with Allyson and saw she’d be home early. He’d surprise her by cooking dinner. He drove to Donnybrook Fair and bought two rib-eye steaks, potatoes, and a big, already-prepared Greek salad as an afterthought.

He found Allyson at home when he returned. She was dressed in her sweats and looked deliciously tousled. He was enflamed with desire to have her on the spot. He kissed her passionately, but she pushed against his chest with both hands.

“Easy, tiger. I’m tired and sore.”

“I thought today was just a workout?”

“Just? We did an hour of cardio, an hour of strength, and then an hour of yoga. The instructor was a sadist. He put us in asanas and held them forever.”

“He should be prosecuted.” He gave her his crooked smile, but she stayed at arm’s length. “I ran into an old girlfriend today. She runs a yoga studio called Playful Stretch. Maybe you should try her?”

“I like that name. What’d you buy for dinner?”

“Steak and potatoes.” Her expression confirmed his hunch. “And a Greek salad.” She brightened. “Won’t try a little steak? I’m going to marinate it before grilling it.”

“A bite or two. I’ve been in training for the Cork shoot for weeks. Don’t want to blow it now.”

“You’re in fantastic shape, love. You’ll look great in those photos. But why go there? Why not shoot around here?”

“We’re promoting Cork tourism. Have to be there to do that.”

“I suppose. Tell you what. Why don’t I run a bath for you?”

“I’ll run my own, but keep your thought, okay?” She patted his fly.

“Try and stop me from thinking.”

She strutted on her tip-toes to the staircase and flashed the over-the-shoulder, come-hither look that first ensnared him. He loved when she played like that. Then she ran up the stairs. He thought to follow her and coax a strip-tease, but he heard the bathroom door slam. A moment later the tap was running.

Allyson left the next morning for Cork.

“What’ll I do tonight?” he asked. “Aren’t you concerned for my welfare?”

“Stay home, watch that video we shot, and then take care of yourself.”

“You be good, too, love.”

“I will, love.”

He searched listings on his computer and discovered that the building housing Playful Stretch was for sale. He suddenly wanted that building and dialed the agency, even though the listed price was far out of line. The agent said the owner was in no mood to bargain. Glen fought an urge to buy it anyway.

“Call me if the owner comes to his senses,” he said.

His unease ate at him. He hated feeling like no matter what he was doing, he should be doing something else. It tended to signal the end of a relationship, but he didn’t want this one to end. Allyson was sporty, intelligent, playful, funny, and the complete package as far as looks were concerned. Surprisingly, she took her beauty in stride and didn’t require constant reassurance about her appearance. He thought this was her best quality.

He’d had one long relationship in his twenties. He married at thirty-two; he loved Ciara when they wed, but in truth he went to the altar to please his mother. They were happy for a couple of years, but he grew restless, distant from her, a feeling that intensified daily. He shared with her his growing disinterest. They had a civil divorce. She was a successful TV presenter and didn’t need money; she got their house in the settlement.

Ciara discovered a new love, a doctor, and was now a stay-at-home mum with three kids. The last time he’d seen her at a hospital fundraiser she’d thanked him for being up front with her; she told him pointedly that she was in a much better situation. He assumed she’d told him that to hurt his feelings, but it hadn’t slowed him down.

He simply loved women and getting to know a new lover. There was the excitement of the chase, the settling-in period, when, ideally, great sex would fuel his interest and attraction, to be followed by the inevitable burn-out. Usually, the break-ups weren’t too dramatic. The girlfriend before Allyson was still a friend, still worked as a manager at his favorite restaurant, and still found a table for him and Allyson without the need for a reservation.

He decided he’d lunch at Roly’s Bistro. It was one of those days where the sun gave way to showers, and a rainbow signaled the next sunny spell. He left home at the end of a shower and walked straight towards one end of a rainbow. Maybe this was a harbinger of the end of his malaise.

He sat near the front. There was a steady stream of customers at the take-out counter. He supposed they were taking their sandwiches and salads to Herbert Park.

Three girls he judged to be in their mid-teens came into the shop. Two of them wore too much make-up and generally flitted around like butterflies, pretty but lacking substance. The third was beautiful, also wore too much make-up, but carried herself more maturely. She obviously belonged to the group; she wore the same school uniform. He looked away, having learned long ago the danger of flirting with teen-agers.

“Hi Glen.” The poised teen sat in the empty chair across from him. “Remember me?” She pointedly opened another button on her shirt and spread the collar. He could see the lacy top of her bra and the swell of her breasts.

“You’re mistaking me for someone else. I don’t know you.”

“You dated my mum. I saw you leaving her bedroom.”

He examined her face and remembered the incident: early morning, cradling his shoes to cause no disturbance, a young girl aged eight or so standing in her bedroom door with a curious expression on her face. It was strange to remember the scene and not the mother, but the next task was to dismiss the teen and make his way home. He looked towards the take-out counter.

“Where’d your friends go?”

“School. They’re going back to study for the certs, but I could give a continental fuck about them at this point.”

He stifled a chuckle. “Not worried that your future is at stake?”

“I’ve studied til I’m knackered. I couldn’t remember another fact.”

“Good day to be mitching from school. Going to Sandymount for a swim?”

“I was hoping you’d take me somewhere.”

“Sorry, I’m on foot.”

“Ah, go on, you. I know you like girls. I’ve seen your picture with Allyson what’s-her-name.”

He didn’t like the way this was headed. “That’s right. I’m with her. Bad policy to be bringing teen-agers into our nest.”

“You look like Warren Beatty, except your eyes are bluer.”

Glen was normally pleased with this comparison, but not this time.

“You’ve seen the movie Shampoo, right?”

“That’s a mature film for a schoolgirl.”

She waved away his concern and rolled her eyes. “I saw it on the telly. It’s good. I was reminded of you.” She reached across the table for his hand. “You don’t have fantasies of shagging a mother and daughter?”

He pulled his hand away and crossed his arms. “No, I don’t.”

She settled back into the chair. “Mum was very cross when you didn’t ring back. Called you many names. Warned me to stay away from men like you.”

“You should heed her advice.”

“That’s no fun.” She swelled her chest for his benefit. “I’m Diana. This is my natural hair color. I’ve noticed you have a thing for blondes.”

A chill went up his spine at the thought that this teen was stalking him.

“I’ve got to get back to work.”

He took the check to the cashier. Diana wore a knowing smile through the transaction. They walked out the bistro’s door.

“Your house is over that way, isn’t it?” He pointed in the opposite direction of his house.

“We can’t go there. Mum’s at home.”

“We’re not going anywhere. I’m going back to work.”

“One kiss, then decide.” She closed her eyes, puckered, and leaned towards him.

He turned and walked away. The pedestrian signal sounded, so he crossed Pembroke Road and headed towards Aviva Stadium, out of his way. She followed, obviously intent on causing trouble. She walked at his side wearing a determined look. He walked faster to gain the advantage where a sandwich joint’s tables dictated a single passage on the walkway.

“Where’s your car parked?” She double-stepped to return to his side when the walkway widened and grabbed his arm. “I’m tired of walking. I want a ride.”

He stopped and faced her. “I told you I’m on foot. I’ll pay for a cab to take you home. That’s all I’ll do for you.”

She slapped his face and screamed, “He grabbed me!”

He about-faced and walked away. A waitress from the adjacent coffee shop stepped back to give him wide clearance and glared as he passed. “Are you okay?” he heard her ask.

“Bastard,” Diana screamed.

He crossed Shelbourne Road mid-block and hurried on his way. He shuddered at the thought that his dating activities were being followed by the brazen teenager. He waited for the green man at Lansdowne Road. A contingent of Gardai stood across the street, and he remembered there was a rock concert in the stadium later that night. If the call went to them, they wouldn’t have far to go to confront him. The light changed. He quickly crossed and headed home.

He lingered at the corner of Lansdowne and Pembroke Roads, examining both directions to see if it was clear sailing. Gardai were standing beside barricades in preparation for the coming crowd. He saw a female Garda sizing him up. He smiled.

“Nice day for a concert,” he said.

She returned his smile. “Could be rain.”

He wished them good luck and crossed the street with the signal. He waited at the entrance to Raglan Road to check again for trouble. He couldn’t shake his jitters. Instead of entering his house he got in his car and drove. He turned onto Morehampton Road, headed out of town. Traffic was light, but this didn’t improve his mood. His mind raced from beautiful scenes with Allyson, to Lydia’s comfort in her relationship, to his upcoming birthday, to Diana’s predatory advance and what that suggested to him about his reputation. He weighed the likelihood that she would lurk outside his house. He’d behaved appropriately; he hoped Allyson would see this point.

He had no destination in mind and was surprised to discover himself in the vicinity of Glenmacnass Falls. His favorite place in Ireland. Where he’d lost his virginity. He drove to the pull in and parked his car.

He hiked through damp vegetation to a rocky outcrop alongside the river. The roar of the falls blocked out all other sounds. He noticed tufts of foam bob on the river’s surface and then disappear, carried downstream to the sea. What caused the foam tufts? There was a regular succession of them, as though they were being manufactured and released on schedule.

He noticed that one tuft had escaped the main current and was bobbing near the bank in front of him. He kneeled down and examined it more closely. He was surprised to discover that it had more substance than a soap bubble. There was mass to it. Bits of stuff were caught in the foam. Leaves? Dirt? He reached for the tuft. It resisted his grasp, moving into the current and off on its way.

What was the tufts’ function in the grand scheme of things? There must be some reason compelling their journey. His connection to the foam tufts grew. They had their journey to complete, and they did it. It was all part of the web of life.

He laid back on the rock and absorbed its heat through his clothes. The experience of his first sexual encounter filled him. Glen was eighteen. A couple, friends of his parents, were visiting after living for many years in Australia. The woman, her name was Nan, wanted to hike in the Wicklow Mountains, as she had loved to do in her youth. Her husband and Glen’s parents weren’t interested, so Glen volunteered to go. He thought Nan was pretty but impossibly old. He didn’t think the hike would take much time. He was surprised at her stamina, enthusiasm for wild Ireland, and knowledge of the flora. He was challenged by her pace and sensed that she was pleased by his effort to keep up.

They stopped to rest on a rocky outcrop. He’d worked up a sweat and remarked about feeling uncomfortable because of it. She encouraged him to take off his jumper. “You’ll be surprised how much heat is in the rock.” He tried it and confirmed her comment. She stunned him by removing her top. She wore no bra. Her breasts were small with dark nipples, a most wondrous sight. He gaped in amazement.

“Would you like to touch them?” she asked.

Things progressed apace from there, and afterwards they laid naked, the heat from the rock fueling more passion. They made love a second time. His pace was slower, she gave guidance about what she liked, he paid close attention, and he enjoyed it much more. The thrill of having crossed the threshold into manhood never left him.

On the drive home she coached him. What they’d shared was a secret thrill, to be shared with no one else. He should remember it and her fondly but had to understand that they would never share another intimate moment. He’d been sad but understood the wisdom. He had told no one, not even his pals, but noticed that his manner around women was much easier. He definitely had more interest.

As he remembered this he watched a tuft of foam that was caught in an eddy on the opposite side of the river. It would bob around, nearly escaping, only to be pushed back into quieter waters.

He realized he was willing it on its way to fulfill its destiny. Each time it seemed on the brink of release he brightened, but some unseen force pulled it back into containment in the sheltered cove.

He was filled with an insight. It was old habits that had pulled this tuft to confinement across the river, much as old habits kept him chasing after the next conquest. How would either of them complete their journey? Something would have to change. The river would have to rise or fall, or speed up or slow down, but it was obvious that they would never fulfil their destiny under current conditions.