Heedless of my grumblings, Salome dragged me out for the second time this month. I held her arm unsteadily, walking stick flapping in the other hand, as the escalator in this frenetic city store carried us to where the restaurant was situated. She had taken charge of the shopping, with my new pair of shoes; the other excuse, besides fresh air, to extract me from my small artisan house in a historic corner of Dublin. She’s a smart, strong young woman, my care assistant, with a winning sense of humour and an abundance of competencies. Doing chores for enfeebled folk like myself affords her enough money to pursue her social science studies. I’ve also detected, as she dutifully watches over me, how the heads turn in public. With her pert posture and mysterious aura, she’s a pretty picture all right. I melt into the background; - me, who used to be quite the bombshell! Humbly I indulge the inquisitive admiring gazes looking past me, and, despite my often crotchety demands, submit eventually to her intuitive leadership. No complaints there.
In the restaurant the queue was already gathering for lunch. We located a table and Salome told me to sit down and wait while she wound her way towards the busy counter to obtain the food. I complied without protest, welcoming the sanctuary from the impatient pandemonium of energetic bodies going places endlessly.
I settled myself as comfortably as I could, trying to ignore the stiffness and usual aching in my joints. The malaise had started with old sports injuries which had left their mark, according to the doctors’ diagnoses. I had been a bright light on the rugby field, way back. Pain-killers dulled the throb of pain when it preyed on me. Other prescriptions though, such as cutting back on rich food, had met with less obedience from me, which eventually wreaked revenge in an attack of gout. Under Salome’s command, I had become more meager in my diet and relatively resigned to toeing the line for however long I had left. This morning she had interrupted my preparation of a document for the director of the company from which I’d retired some years ago. They kept me on the books as a consultant for occasional project work which proved a source of stimulation and distraction from the banality of my increasingly limited existence.
I looked around at the people tucking into their meals and chatting. Ahead were a couple of dapper chaps and a young lady in a chic suit, who, I guessed, were legal eagles like myself. They were absorbed in an intense debate, and it reminded me of the ideals I had brought to the profession, the keenness for administering justice and doing my bit for a fairly ordered society. Wryly I shook my head at the recollection and how those intentions were gradually whittled away by the experience and practice.
The job did however ensure me a hefty salary, which I would, sooner or later, be leaving to my relatives. I hadn’t heard from any of them for months. My ex-wife of course would expect her share too. We had been married for ten years and spent perhaps three years of those together, due to our business commitments. She had then been a ravishing and controversial actress, never stuck for a role, or flatterers. I was not short of temptations myself, in the glamorous circles we moved in. It was simply not a surprise when, during a rare honest conversation, we both owned up to the fraying façade and decided to take our fresh chances apart. Now she lives with her third husband, in relative contentment according to the annual Christmas card I receive from her. I never tried for domestic bliss again; the bachelor’s life fitted my schedule better.
To my right was an elderly couple, slowly digesting their food, hunched and cautious as though grateful for this respite. They had probably collected their pensions today, sneaking a weekly treat before ambling on to a cheap supermarket for groceries. Next to them huddled a pack of old girls, chirpily exchanging gossip. I often wondered how people could settle for so little. The older I got, it seemed the less I understood about the human animal.
I straightened myself in the chair, feet flat on floor. I took a deep breath which cleared away my ruminative mood. It was then I took stock of the group to my left, a young man and woman with two small children, shrouded in their own special atmosphere. They looked a little out-of-place, as though this was not a familiar setting; probably up from the country. They were courteous and considerate in their smooth interactions, and I was tickled by their charming dynamic. The presumed parents were multi-tasking, feeding themselves, and overseeing their children taking adequate sustenance despite the novel diversions away from home. These children were endearing, showing a natural trust and enthusiasm while retaining good manners. They exuded an air of uncalculated organic presence, as if using this time to nourish themselves was in fact the most important thing in the whole world->->->
- goinghome
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