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CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

        "Run me through that again. What have you done?"

        "Kissing you like that the night we went out. It could have been the drink or the food combination or the fact that I was leaving the house and I couldn’t help myself."

        "Anna it’s ok."

        "No its not 'cos you hardly looked at me at the funeral, acting all strange, and you can’t do that when I need you."

        "Anna..."

        I guess you could say the Gods played their final joke on me when I, Anna Moran, inherited my uncle’s fish shop plus a legacy of 50,000 on the condition that it was to be kept in the family name. There was no denying that I’d been given the chance to do something else with my life but I suppose I couldn’t be trusted in the driving seat. And so from beyond the grave my destiny was fixed and I was catapulted back to my roots.

        I didn’t miss the job in Dublin, maybe the flash car but it was hardly me filling out forms and selling policies. I could only cope with that job as long as I saw it as a game and I had already grown tired of all the back clapping and back stabbing. My great adventure in Dublin was over and I was back home, not that gutting fish is the real me either.

        Still it’s not so bad. Bit different now that I’m the owner rather than the dutiful employee. Jimmy had modernised the shop before he died with a top of the range computerised system that looks after the stock and checks the weights of the fish when the fishermen bring them in. Monty, former employee of Jimmy has stayed on to work with me. A thin wiry man in his seventies Monty has more energy than anybody I know. He thrives on the gossip that flows in and out of here everyday and loves looking after what he regards as his customers.

        Business has thrived since the BSE crisis with more and more people eating fish. I’ve decided to expand the range to include such delicacies as crabs claws and caviar but I refuse point blank to ever sell lobster. I open the shop around ten and close shortly after five. Maisie O’ Shea who comes to clean everyday is my window to life in the town. She fills me in on who’s dating and who’s screwing whom. Of course I held number one spot in the news here for many weeks but I reacted by keeping a very low profile rather in manner of a widow, only husband to be not dead only deleted.

        I guess some mothers have locked up their sons but on hearing that I’m an heiress and I’m quite comfortable I am considered a great catch. However I refuse point blank to ever breed within my own gene pool. Besides I don’t need a rebound relationship as part of my recovery process. I want this time on my own.

        I very often feel as if I’ve never been away, my absence a mere hiccup in the overall scheme of things in the life here in Dingle. My mother eventually came around, saying that it was a good job my uncle Jimmy died when he did or he might have given that hussy the shop as well.

        Anyway life goes on. I miss Dublin and Assumpta and Harry and Elliot. Funny how you get used to having people around you and you don’t know what it’s like to miss them until they’re gone. I don’t miss Connor at all. I’m glad in a way otherwise I would be paranoid with regrets and I don’t need that. I miss Elliot the most and although we talk a lot on the phone its not the same as having the craic together.

        I now live in my own apartment over the shop which is just as well as I couldn’t bear to live with the pursed lips and palpable disappointment in the Moran household for any longer. I can do as I please, leave the wash up or hide the dirty pots in the cupboard when Nuala comes to visit which, thankfully, isn’t very often. On a good day I enjoy the banter with the customers and the dirty talk of the fishermen when they arrive with their catch. I am a people person after all. But on a bad day when I have to listen to Monty humming the same tune over and over again I have to curb the desire to bone him out like a fish. Then I have to try to concentrate on more lofty thoughts like the words of Ovid when he writes about passion. Now there’s a guy who knows exactly what I’m talking about.

        Oh the words, the words. They rescue me when reality gets too crippling. How else would I be able to cope with cantankerous customers who berate me for the prices of squid over which I have no control.

        I never knew before what I wanted from a relationship, going from one extreme to another. I had gone from being a slut to a saint overnight and in that process I had learned quite a lot about who I was. Now I like to think that I’ve landed somewhere in the middle, although I’m loath to use the word balanced in relation to me. I no longer have that over riding desperation for a husband in my life. I think I’ll start with the man first this time and maybe just maybe husband later.

        I sometimes find myself walking down the pier in the evenings and fancy myself in the role of the French Lieutenants woman gazing wistfully and longingly out to sea. I no longer obsess if I’m on my destined path, well maybe just a little bit. One thing I do know is that I made a big fuck up when I was in the driving seat. Despite everything I still believe in falling in love and that one special person who could well be the custodian of my destiny. That surely isn’t a lot to ask for.

        "Elliot, it’s me."

        "Hi Anna, are you ok?"

        "Yeah. Not great if you must know. Not great at all."

        "What’s wrong? Is it the feeling that you want to die?"

        "How can I when I’m already dead."

        "No you’re not."

        "Yes I am, stuck here rotting in a fish shop."

        "You’re an heiress my darling, a business entrepreneur."

        "I am?"

        "Of course you are."

        "That’s ok. Listen I have to do a recording down in Dingle with some of the trad lads down there so we’ll be able to catch up. Did I tell you Assumpta has fallen big time, major big time for a junior doctor in her hospital and she’s talking marriage. Tell you all the goss when I arrive."

        Great. Elliot coming to visit. No big deal. We’re friends. Mustn’t get too excited or show him I’m so desperate for friends that I’ve befriended Bernadette, sister to Sharon Foley. Well now that I have money I’m popular with such ilk and I need someone to go out for a drink with on Friday nights.

        I want to look nice when Elliot arrives so that he doesn’t think us country girls go to seed once we leave the big smoke. Shower, shave and exfoliate. I must get rid of that harsh overhead light in the bathroom or give up smiling, develop bland expression on face or invest in some anti wrinkle cream. Wear. What will I wear? What the hell am I obsessing for? It’s only Elliot. Do I look thinner in the black top or the grey top. Grey too drab? Mournful? But it cost me an arm and a leg. No I’ll wear my red satin pants but I’ve only a boob tube and I can’t wear that here. Fuck just wear your jeans. But then he’ll think I only dress like a scruff since I came back to live in Dingle. No I’ll wear my black dress and leather jacket. Too funereal? Ok compromise. Red dress and leather jacket.

        Do I mention the kiss or will I let it just hang there between us. I know I mentioned it on the phone but its different in the flesh. What if I can’t be myself ‘cos that’s all I can focus on. How will I say it?

        "Look Elliot about that kiss, I should never have crossed the line," or "Elliot remember that kiss in the kitchen did you feel it could have destroyed our friendship?" or  "Elliot remember when I spoke to you about the kiss and you said it didn’t matter is that cos you think I’m unattractive? Doomed to wander the planet alone forever?" or "Elliot I want to clear the air before we go out. About that kiss."

        Why oh why can’t my brain just churn out one possible way to ask the question. I need to stop obsessing. It can’t be healthy.

        Elliot arrives in his car at eight o’clock. My heart is beating quickly only because I have to clear this kiss issue first. It’s only Elliot for Christ sake.

        "Moran is that you?"

        "Of course it’s me. You don’t think I’ve changed into some fat-mobile since you last saw me."

        "On the contrary you look amazing. I don’t think I’ve seen you in a dress before. Hey crazy dreamer aren’t you going to give Elliot a great big hug. How long has it been? Three months?"

        Great big hug and friendly peck on cheek. He’s probably too scared to kiss my lips in case I read more into it and respond like a nymph.

        I have a meal booked for us at Lynch’s restaurant. They have the most amazing seafood here. I notice the way Elliot opens the door for me. Sure didn’t he always do that. We sit down and Elliot asks me to order for the both of us. This is his treat he insists. A lot of work has come his way recently and he’s been asked to record one of his own compositions which is remarkable considering the high level of competition in this country.

        Elliot has lovely lips, a sensuous generous mouth. Elliot has a slight oriental look with lovely olive skin. Elliot’s eyes dance and twinkle when he speaks.

        Elliot is speaking and I can only barely concentrate on what he’s saying.

        "Assumpta has fallen in love with this guy Anna. I’ve met him. He’s pretty cool, a junior doctor, few years younger than her..."

        Elliot is my best friend but I can’t stop noticing his lips, his eyes, his broad shoulders, his lovely long fingers… Shut the fuck up Anna. Elliot is your friend.

        "And she claims she wants this guy’s babies. Can you imagine our Assumpta. Babies? She’s like a woman possessed…"

        Calm yourself Anna. It’s only Elliot and you’re just so excited about having a date with anybody cos its been so long. Did I say excited? I feel excited as in my tummy is flipping over but it’s all because of that kiss and I’m a bit nervous of mentioning it. That is all.

        "She says you’ll be her bridesmaid and that she wants a huge wedding with …"

        Anna concentrate on what Elliot is saying and try to be more responsive than nodding and smiling like a lobotomised Cheshire cat. I think its for the best that I don’t go on and on about the kiss or he’ll think I’m being obsessive which I am but I wonder if it was lust or what. Did he kiss me back. Yes he did. He responded but then he pushed me away… It had to be the drink, that’s all.

        "And Cecil has a girlfriend. Imagine. He met her at mass when he was at home some weekend…"

        Could it be that I was so fixated at being in the driving seat all along that I failed to notice who was sitting on the passenger side? I was staring straight ahead and although Elliot was always a part of my life I had never considered him other than my best friend. But who loves the crazy Anna? Elliot. Who listens to the crazy Anna? Elliot. Who knows Anna? Elliot.

        I flash back to all the fun times we had together in Dublin, the trips to the beach with Homer, the meals we shared, the movies we watched, the teasing, the arguing and the laughing til we almost cried.

        "Anna hey what’s wrong? You’ve hardly said a word. But I’ve been rabbiting on so long you haven’t been able to get a word in edgeways. Now what do you see happening in your future?"

        "My future is this yawning abyss, that looms threateningly before me and…"

        We leave the restaurant together and walk down towards the pier. Will I mention the kiss before we reach the pier or will I wait til after we go to the pub or…

        "Anna, about that kiss?"

        "Elliot I was just thinking…"

        "Shh. That’s it Moran, don’t think."

        Elliot bends down and silences me with a kiss. Just like that. Not a brotherly kiss. Not a friendly kiss. A lover’s kiss. A lovers touch. And one by one my crazy thoughts dismantle and line up to rearrange themselves. Oh my Gawd. Elliot, my sweet, gentle Elliot. Also very good looking and rugged Elliot. Mmmm. We kiss and we kiss some more. And some more after that. This feels right. This feels good. Elliot and Anna. Anna and Elliot.

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