To Make Love With Your Eyes Closed Read online

  I smile and give him a bit of a man-hug before leaving. It will be sad to leave my friends behind. I can’t even register how much that’s going to kill me. Leaving, no matter the circumstances, can be so bittersweet.

  25

  I think that my biggest fear about leaving isn’t saying goodbye to the place and people that I love, it’s waving goodbye to my comfort zone. It’s seeing my safety net sink beneath the ocean while I struggle to keep my head afloat.

  There’s a massive difference between being happy and being comfortable. I’m not so naive as to not fully understand that. But it doesn’t make change any less comfortable. I will miss Rory and I will miss Tripp, but most of all I will miss the ease that I have in my life at the moment. It’s so easy for me to get out of bed each and every day and do the same thing, even if it does begin to slowly eat away at my soul.

  I’ve given up on my desire to be with you. Okay, I shouldn’t say that, that’s not true, I will always want you, but right now I have entered a stage of acceptance that it’s just not meant to be. You and I were destined to cross path’s in order to teach each other things that we couldn’t learn by ourselves, but we were not destined to be in each other’s lives forever. I get that now. I still love you and I still miss you. I still think about you all of the god damn time. Frightfully so. But I am willing to let you spread your wings, in the same way that I hope you’re going to be willing to allow me to do as well. And so in light of all of this information, I am deciding that my time here is done. I have outgrown this city. I didn’t think it would ever be possible for me to outgrow a big city. I outgrew the town I lived in as a child but that was because no people lived there, here, countless people are constantly flooding the streets, but still, something is missing. This city has become stale, my life has stopped evolving, and I feel in my heart that the only place that I will be able to grow again will be in London.

  In a lot of ways I feel like Dublin is the London of Ireland. It’s a lot smaller, it’s not a lie. And I think the majority of people would disagree with that statement. But Dublin is alive and it is truly magical. It was my home for such a long period of time and for that I am so thankful.

  When I get home I sit on my lounge looking out the window. That’s something I very rarely do. I usually don’t like looking out the window. It usually makes me feel quite depressed. But today I’m happy to. As I watch the clouds pass by I am no longer frightened of the future, I am now excited by it. Soon I will be able to spread my wings and to fly. I’ll be able to grow. I will be released from my cage.

  I write up a letter to my landlord about how he’ll have the space to himself as of the date that I’m leaving. I kind of don’t expect much of a return on the remainder of this month’s rent. We’ll see how that goes.

  I turn around and look at all of the things in my apartment and wonder what exactly I would take with me if I were to leave. None of this stuff is really worth anything important to me. I kick the couch. It was just something I picked up for a steal of a price because it’s a bit of a necessity. The old CD player is on it’s way out. My kettle is so ugly sometimes I am scared to show people. I don’t own a television, a playstation or any board games. There’s just me and my easel.

  I walk over to my easel and stare at the last thing I painted. It’s so beautiful. I smile to it and tear it from the bunch. I add it to the pile of lame artworks I have scribbled together in my spare time.

  “Thank you,” I say to my canvas, “for being there for me when no one else has been.”

  I smile and walk away.

  I have work again in the morning. I know, it seems like I never have a day off at all, and mostly that’s true. I don’t. I’m nervous about working tomorrow. It’s my last shift before London. I’m not coming back. I have to let everyone know tomorrow.

  As the dawn creeps up on me again I once again push forward the glass door at O’Byrnes. I do it so slowly in case you are there. You are. You’re working today. I feel crap already. I cough quietly and walk to the front with my eyes to the floor. I feel like it’s the slowest walk any human has ever committed to in the history of the world. You say hey to me, I return the favour. You seem to be okay. You’re not different at all. It hurts me that you don’t seem to care.

  The majority of this shift occurs in complete silence between the pair of us. We are both such good workers that everything manages to get done even without any communication. It’s only awkward for the first couple of hours but by the time lunch hour hits it almost feels normal. I think about how this is going to be so easy for me to leave. I’m going to find it a lot easier to say goodbye to you if you don’t make it a big deal.

  At changeover time you give me a half arsed goodbye and walk out the door. I say the same without even looking at you. I almost expect a text message half an hour letter. In fact I hold my breath waiting for it. A bit stupid. I know you better. You walked out that door holding your chest high. Sad that you care so much about your pride. It’s going to eat you inside out someday.

  Byron comes in about half an hour before I’m going to head off. I suddenly feel quite emotional. Quite sad that I’m going to get a bigger goodbye from a man old enough to be my granddad than the man I was making love to just the other week.

  “Byron…” I say with a sigh.

  The old man sits down.

  “Hello Gerry, how are you?”

  “I’m good, I’m really good, I decided to do it. I decided to leave.” I get straight to the point.

  “Well that’s great, I’m very happy for you. He sits forward in his chair excitedly, “I’m going to miss you though.”

  “I’m going to miss you too Byron. I really am. You’ve been such a good friend to me for a really long time.”

  “It won’t be the same here without you.”

  I wonder what that line actually means. Byron is the only one who uses it on me, and it doesn’t have much of an effect, but it must mean something otherwise he wouldn’t say it.

  “Thanks Byron, look, we’ll have to stay in touch okay.”

  “Yes!” He says excitedly and pulls out a pen and scrap piece of paper from his back pocket. He smiles at me. I’m going to miss that cheeky little face. I doodle down his post address. The old man doesn’t have an email address. I give him a pat on the back and wish him all of the best.

  As changeover hits I become increasingly nervous, I know that both thankfully and awfully Rory & Tripp are working tonight.

  The door goes. They both walk in. Here it is. They both smile at me. I think they know it’s coming. I did hint at it. I just had to say it was set in stone.

  “Rory, Tripp,” I say, “I booked it, I’m leaving.”

  Rory punches me on the arm.

  “I don’t care,” he says, “I’m not going to miss you, do what you want.”

  I can tell that’s just the way he feels comfortable acting. He’s a boy, he struggles with showcasing his emotions.

  “When do you fly out?” Asks Tripp.

  I shy away from the answer but eventually force it out.

  “Monday morning…”

  “And you’re going straight to London to stay with your parents?”

  “Yep.” Then I remember that I haven’t even told mum yet, must remember to call her when I get home.

  Tripp smiles. “What are supposed to do without you?”

  “Act like normal, mature age boys?”

  “That’s not going to happen just because you’re leaving haha.”

  “This is true.”

  “Okay all jokes aside,” butts in Rory, “I will miss you, and this place is gonna be shit without you, but, I know you’re really unhappy, and you haven’t been yourself for a long time. This is going to be good for you, I really hope it makes you happy and gives you whatever it is you feel you’re missing… or whatever.”

  “Thanks Rory, I really feel like it’s enough.”

  “And onto more important things!” Says Tripp, “drinks? Saturday night? I
have it off?” He turns to face Rory.

  “Yep, me too!”

  “Awesome, well, let’s do it!”

  “Great one.”

  I head into the vacant office and drop off my resignation. It’s a bit of a dick move but I’m so emotionally exhausted that I don’t care as much as I should.

  There’s a photo frame of Aaron and Jake next to the computer. It makes me angry again. I hover for a second in the office. I really hope that I don’t wake up one day and realise that I’m only leaving because of you. Because that would turn out to be the biggest regret of my life walking away from the only place that has kept me somewhat unhappy for the longest time. But I also think about how I’ve given this move a lot of thought and realised that there are other reasons that I’m leaving too and that you are not the be all and end all of my world. I like to tell myself that anyway. Secretly you are still killing me softly each and every single day. I close the door quietly. I can’t believe it’s all over, just like that. That I can work here for three and a half years and one day just wake up and decide I can’t deal with this anymore. That one signature is the end of an era. I almost regret it now. I consider turning around and letting myself back into the office and tearing up my resignation letter. But I don’t. Instead I walk out of that bar with my head held high and my confidence around my shoulders. I made that decision with the best intentions I had, I made it to the best of my ability with the information I was given at the time and I can’t possibly have cold feet now.

  It’s not the feeling you expect leaving a job that was your whole life behind. You think it’s going to be dramatic and emotional, and instead, when you realise it was poison in your veins it’s freeing and it’s a terribly good feeling. It makes you never want to work again… until you return to the place that is a tattoo over your heart. O’Byrne’s, somehow I feel like we will return to each other’s arms, but for now I bid you adieu and thank you for all of the memories.

  26

  On the surface it looks like I don’t care that you haven’t made a big deal about me leaving. I understand that we haven’t known each other for the longest amount of time and I get that you probably feel like it wouldn’t make a difference, but it would be really nice to feel like you actually give a shit about me. If nothing else, I would have at least liked some closure on us. I don’t want to leave the country and be sitting at home wondering if you’re thinking about me in the same way that I’m thinking about you.

  When I’m in London, I want to be in London, happy, and grateful to be there.

  I don’t want to be there, daydreaming about the past. But look, at the same time, as disappointed as I am I’m also not entirely surprised. I get the stakes for you, I see what’s on the line. I know where you are and I know what you’re afraid of. I’m not going to bait you out of your cave. I gave you so many opportunities to be with me I don’t expect you to suddenly want me now that the stakes are higher than ever. I imagine you at home, with a placid look on your face. You look somewhat normal. There’s no smile and there’s no frown there’s just you, looking like there’s only sand in your head as usual. If anyone bar myself were to look at you I’m sure they would fail to see how deep and emotional you truly are. But you have these walls up and you shut everyone out.

  I wish you only happiness and success in life, I really do, but if you don’t pull those walls down Thomas, one day the asylum is going to really get to you.

  When I get home I stick in my old Mariah Carey CD. Music Box. I know I said I very rarely listen to her, but I’m really in the mood. I really feel content and I don’t want to listen to something that’s going to bring me down. Most people would laugh at that because they feel like Mariah Carey is quite depressing, but there’s something I really love about her music. It’s timeless and it’s nostalgic, it’s graceful and it’s beautiful. I love Mariah Carey.

  I set up the kettle and sit down with an old Men’s Health magazine. I managed to nip it from work before I set off today. Again, this is something I rarely do, read magazines, or even read in general, I mean. I never have the patience to sit there and to read a prolific essay written by the same person every week about the same boring ass thing. But now that I am in a calm, almost meditative state of mind, I feel so peaceful as to be able to relax and concentrate on something.

  I think about how interesting the concept of perspective is in our lives. I mean, from an outsider, looking into my apartment you would have absolutely no idea how happy or unhappy I am. If I were doing this exact thing last week I would be heartbreakingly unhappy, yet today whilst I do it I couldn’t be any happier. It comes down to our thinking, I’m happy right now because I know that this is a moment I am only going to bathe in tonight. Whereas, if I was not to be leaving the country and was to be destined to repeat this ritual for an indefinite space of time, I would really think my life was shit. And it was. As I tell you all the time.

  The kettle clicks and I’m sipping on my coffee. It’s beautiful. It’s making me sleep already. Then the doorbell goes and my little peace of heaven slips away from under my feet.

  It’s Duncan. Of course it’s Duncan. I thought that ghost was long gone but now he’s back. Back to tempt me down the paralysing path of the past. Not this time.

  I hover in the open doorway, leaning against the door with a twisted look on my face. Nothing has been said since I ignored his text but suddenly I feel like I am wide awake and can see him for what he really is.

  “Hey, how are you going?”

  “Yer, I’m good.”

  “I just thought I’d stop by, I haven’t seen you in a while.”

  I almost expect him to tell me that he misses me, but that would be like waiting for a leprechaun to just run through my apartment and start singing on my kitchen worktop.

  “Yeah, we haven’t seen each other in a while. How have you been?” I say. It’s not in my nature to be rude to people. As strong as I am, deep down I’m still a people pleaser and a part of me twitches when I know someone somewhere has a weird issue with me.

  “I’ve been good… so, wanna get high?” He holds up a small bag of weed.

  “Duncan… Why are you really here?” I say, cutting to the chase.

  “I wanted to see you.”

  “Why did you want to see me Duncan, do you ever just ask yourself why you actually want anything to do with me? Do you like me? Do you want to be with me? Do you just want to fuck around? Do you only want to mess with my head? Tell me Duncan, because I’m over it, I’m over this toxic game of cat and mouse.”

  He isn’t quite sure how to react at first, I’ll let him have that, I took him pretty off guard.

  “I’m sorry that you feel that way…” Is his first response, he looks almost lost for words after that.

  I look at him closely and roll my hand, wanting him to continue.

  “I don’t want to lose you, I really like you Gerry.”

  “So why aren’t we together then?”

  “We are together.”

  I look surprised when he says this.

  “Well, you know what I mean.”

  “No I don’t Duncan, I don’t know what you mean, I don’t know what we are and I don’t know what you want. I don’t know what goes through your head when you think of me. I’m not a fucking mind reader.”

  “I’m sorry, I want us to be… well… I really like you, only you.”

  “So what’s the problem then?”

  “I’m scared!” He yells out. I think he is surprised by what just came out of his mouth as much as I am. I back down on my aggressive stance and allow that vulnerable role of sympathy to shine through again.

  “Scared of what?”

  “Scared of commitment, I’m just insecure, I’ve never really been with anyone long term, and I don’t want to…” He starts to murmur after this.

  “You don’t want to be hurt. Okay I get that Duncan, I do, you’re human, but this has to stop, we can’t do this anymore. I can’t fucking do this anymore
goddamit.”

  “Will you give me another chance?”

  “If you had asked me this on this evening last week, I would have said yes Duncan. I would have been the one chasing you down the street but I’m no longer that scared, desperate and confused little boy anymore. I know what I want and I know what I deserve. I need someone to be on the same page as me. I’m sick of being disappointed Duncan I-“

  “Let me show you. I can change. I can do the things you want. I can be the man you want me to be.”

  “No you can’t, I don’t want you to change, I don’t want you to be someone else. You are the person you are already, you shouldn’t need to push yourself that much out of your comfort zone in dating. Sure there should be some give and take but you can’t completely override who you are. The things I want from you, you might be able to force yourself to do for a little while but over time you’re just going to buckle back into the man that you are. And there’s nothing wrong with that. But that man is just not the man for me. I’m sorry.”

  Duncan goes to butt in, but I don’t stop.

  “You deserve to be with someone who likes the fact that you’re insecure, and the fact that you’re scared, and that you aren’t always comfortable talking about your feelings. You really do, and I know you’ll find him in time. But this, this needs to end…”

  He doesn’t say anything after this. I think what I’m telling him is really sinking in.

  “Okay,” he says, “you’re right, as usual, I really like you and I want you to be happy, and if this is what it’s going to take, I will leave you alone.”

  I shake a little bit. I think it’s all of this power just rushing out of nowhere. Power I didn’t know I had to turn around and say nobody to someone despite how much I want him. I am so surprised yet excited by myself. The responsibility has me feeling pretty bad for being the one who has made the decision to actively hurt someone, but if I didn’t, I know he would continue to hurt me so this is a bittersweet ending right here.