The Persistence of Memory

Chapter Twelve

"What did you talk about?" I ask.

"What?"

"You said you spoke about me mainly. What was said?" I gesture with my hand for him to explain. Perhaps if I knew what he'd told her I could figure out what was going through her mind right now.

"I didn't minute it, man. Just about you, your work. She'd just been to The Weston. She was excited about the piece. Said she liked your work, but I think mainly she liked you." He fixes me with a pointed stare.

"She said that to you?"

Pat nods. "Yeah. I know, I was surprised too. Seemed genuine about it though so who was I to argue?"

I'm not sure what to do with that information so I drop my eyes from Pat's and stare into my glass.

"What else? What else did you tell her about me?" I ask, lifting my eyes to him again.

"Don't worry, nothing about your 13-year-old obsession.  That pleasure's all yours. We just talked about how I knew you, how we met, that kind of stuff.  She was interested in you, wanted to know more about you."

She was interested in me. She kissed me. It had actually happened. Less than an hour ago, right here. I glance down at the seat of the sofa where she'd sat as I slid my tongue inside her. Turns out her mouth had been everything I'd dreamt it'd be.

"She kissed me." The words almost fall out of my mouth into the air. I bring the glass to my mouth and drink again, closing my eyes as the whisky burns its way down.

"Seriously?" He says.  Though to be honest, he only sounds a little surprised. "See? Told you she liked you. Congratulations." He smiles and raises his glass.

"Yeah, then she left and said she wasn't coming back."

"Guess that makes sense." 

"What does?" When I frown at him he sits forward, leaning on his knees.

"Makes sense she'd run. Think about it, Aidan."

"It's all I've been thinking about since it happened, Pat."  Well, that and the feel of her tongue on mine. And how warm her mouth was. And how I imagine it's as warm as she'd be between her legs. "She kissed me and now she isn't coming back because she kissed me. Sorta speaks volumes don't you think?"

He sighs. "Volumes about what? She's married and she kissed another guy - how would you feel? All I know is that she spent the entire time talking about you on Saturday, Aidan. Not your work, you. She wanted to know you. She also asked me not to tell you she'd been so nosy. Said she'd upset you by asking you about your childhood the day before or something." The guilt and anger flares in my stomach. Guilt for making her feel she couldn't ask me herself, and for forcing her to go to Pat to find out about me. Anger at him for getting to spend Saturday with her. "And now you're telling me she kissed you? This fantasy woman you've been in love with for over a decade who wasn't even aware of your existence until Thursday? Aidan, that's the sort of shit you'd have sold your aunt Roisin for, mate. Cheer the fuck up will you?" He shakes his head and sips at the contents of his glass. I think over his words. Words he'd delivered with the kind of passion I rarely see in Patrick, to be honest.

"Maybe you didn't hear me right, Pat. She's not coming back."

"So figure out a way to change that." He shrugs as he says it like it's the most simple thing in the world.

We're both silent a long time. Just the sound of him slurping at his whiskey filling the space.

"So, what, now you're encouraging this? Me and her?" I ask him, finally. "Last week you were telling me getting involved with her was the worst thing that could ever happen to me. What changed exactly?"