His eyes were hurting and he closed them. He couldn’t understand how this had happened, how he had let the discussion slip away like this. It was too late to say he wanted to stay with her, that was clear, but when had it become too late? It seemed to have happened immediately. He contemplated putting his face down on the table and just crying like a child. Instead he opened his eyes again.
Yeah, he said. I’m not dropping out, don’t worry.
So you’ll only be gone three months.
Yeah.
There was a long pause.
I don’t know, he said. I guess you’ll want to see other people, then, will you?
Finally, in a voice that struck him as truly cold, Marianne said: Sure.
He got up then and poured his coffee down the sink, although it wasn’t finished. When he left her building he did cry, as much for his pathetic fantasy of living in her apartment as for their failed relationship, whatever that was.
Within a couple of weeks she was going out with someone else, a friend of hers called Jamie. Jamie’s dad was one of the people who had caused the financial crisis – not figuratively, one of the actual people involved. It was Niall who told Connell they were together. He read it in a text message during work and had to go into the back room and press his forehead against a cool shelving unit for almost a full minute. Marianne had just wanted to see someone else all along, he thought. She was probably glad he’d had to leave Dublin because he was broke. She wanted a boyfriend whose family could take her on skiing holidays. And now that she had one, she wouldn’t even answer Connell’s emails anymore.
By July even Lorraine had heard that Marianne was seeing someone new. Connell knew people in town were talking about it, because Jamie had this nationally infamous father, and because there was nothing much else going on.
When did you two split up, then? Lorraine asked him.
We were never together.
You were seeing each other, I thought.
Casually, he replied.
Young people these days. I can’t get my head around your relationships.
You’re hardly ancient.
When I was in school, she said, you were either going out with someone or you weren’t.
Connell moved his jaw around, staring at the television blandly.
Where did I come from, then? he said.
Lorraine gave him a nudge of reproach and he continued to look at the TV. It was a travel programme, long silver beaches and blue water.
Marianne Sheridan wouldn’t go out with someone like me, he said.
What does that mean, someone like you?
I think her new boyfriend is a bit more in line with her social class.
Lorraine was silent for several seconds. Connell could feel his back teeth grinding together quietly.
I don’t believe Marianne would act like that, Lorraine said. I don’t think she’s that kind of person.
He got up from the sofa. I can only tell you what happened, he said.
Well, maybe you’re misinterpreting what happened.
But Connell had already left the room.
*
Back outside the cafe now, the sunlight is so strong it crunches all the colours up and makes them sting. Marianne’s lighting a cigarette, with the box left open on the table. When he sits down she smiles at him through the small grey cloud of smoke. He feels she’s being coy, but he doesn’t know about what.
I don’t think we’ve ever met for coffee before, he says. Have we?
Have we not? We must have.
He knows he’s being unpleasant now but he can’t stop. No, he says.
We have, she says. We got coffee before we went to see
This remark surprises him, and in response he just makes some non-committal noise like: Hm.
The door behind them opens and the woman comes out with his coffee. Connell thanks her and she smiles and goes back inside. The door swings shut. Marianne is saying that she hopes Connell and Jamie get to know each other better. I hope you get along with him, Marianne says. And she looks up at Connell nervously then, a sincere expression which touches him.
Yeah, I’m sure I will, he says. Why wouldn’t I?
I know you’ll be civil. But I mean I hope you get along.
I’ll try.
And don’t intimidate him, she says.
Connell pours a splash of milk in his coffee, letting the colour come up to the surface, and then replaces the jug on the table.
Oh, he says. Well, I hope you’re telling him not to intimidate me either.
As if you could find him intimidating, Connell. He’s shorter than I am.
It’s not strictly a height thing, is it?
Seen from his point of view, she says, you’re a lot taller, and you’re the person who used to fuck his girlfriend.
That’s a nice way of putting it. Is that what you told him about us, Connell’s this tall guy who used to fuck me?
She laughs now. No, she says. But everyone knows.
Does he have some insecurities about his height? I won’t exploit them, I’d just like to know.
