Sunday, November 23rd 2014

Jack waited outside Centra by the pier, hands shoved deep in his jacket pockets, shoulders hunched against the cold wall. The November wind was relentless, rolling in thick from the Atlantic, stinging his cheeks and numbing his fingers. It smelled like home—salt and damp and something crisp in the air—but it didn't feel like it. Not fully. Not anymore.

It was weird. Because Dublin didn't feel like home either. Both Galway and his college accommodation felt like some sort of halfway house. A space in between.

His phone buzzed in his palm. Mark.

'Almost there. Don't freeze to death.'

Jack let out a half-smirk but didn't reply. His thumb hovered over Facebook instead, eyes flitting over the same photo he had already seen a dozen times today.

The Vote No picture.

He had been tagged. His mother had posted it. The caption full of the same righteous certainty she always carried, like her opinion was God's own word. Jack untagged himself immediately. But it didn't matter. People had already seen it, surely. It was out there now. His name. His face. Stamped onto a cause he wasn't even sure he believed in anymore.

The worst part? Nobody would question it. Not his family. Not his neighbours. Not Mark.

He locked his phone as he saw his friend approaching, hands tucked into the front pocket of his hoodie, wind blowing his hair all over the place. Mark still looked exactly the same. Comfortable in his skin, easy in himself. Jack suddenly felt like a stranger next to him.

'Jesus, you look rough,' Mark greeted, grinning as he reached him, 'you hungover?'

'What? No!' Jack protested.

'Seriously?' Mark said, taking a good look at him. 'You look like you've been licking batteries.'

Jack exhaled a laugh, 'Well fuck you too then. I'm just knackered, I guess. College is a pain in the hole.'

'Tell me about it,' Mark muttered as he gave Jack an awkward one-armed hug. 'You playing much football?'

'Ah, yeah. I'm their new number five. We're decent like.'

'Good man,' Mark said approvingly. 'Your mother still think you're the next Colm Cooper?'

Jack smirked and they started walking toward the pier, boots crunching against damp gravel. The village was quiet, the dull hum of Sunday slipping into evening.

'Saw your missus posted another story with your man there earlier,' Mark said after a moment, elbowing Jack lightly, 'how did your coffee go?'

Jack rolled his eyes. 'Not my missus. It went as you'd expect.'

'Aye, not anymore,' Mark grinned. 'But she's definitely trying to make you jealous with him. She's pure tactical, lad.'

'She can do what she wants,' Jack muttered, keeping his eyes forward.

'Come on, you're not even a little bit ratty?'

Jack hesitated. Because he should have been. He should have felt something. Jealousy. Regret. The sting of a missed opportunity. But all he felt was relief. And that terrified him. 'Nah,' he said finally, kicking a pebble across the road.

Mark studied him for a second. Jack could feel it, the weight of his gaze, like he was looking for something deeper. 'Fair enough,' Mark said eventually, but his voice was lighter now. 'You seeing anyone up in Dublin, then?'

Jack's stomach knotted. 'Nah, too busy,' he said, probably too quickly.

'You're telling me you've been living in that city for over two months and haven't even tried?'

Jack forced a laugh. 'Not all of us are social butterflies, Mark.'

'Aye, but you are,' Mark mused. 'No one on your radar at all? Nobody?'

Jack opened his mouth to shut it down, but Paul's name caught in his throat. His mind flickered back to the kiss. The way Paul had looked at him, the warmth of it, the way his stomach had flipped. And then the panic. The fear that had snapped through him like an exposed wire, making him recoil.

'I dunno,' Jack said finally. 'Haven't really thought about it. I'm too broke to be going out. Dublin is a ripoff.'

Mark gave him a look. The same one he had been giving him since they were kids, when Jack was bullshitting but didn't want to talk about it. 'Well come to Limerick for a visit. Nights out are basically free if you get on a cheaplist. And you can stay with me. And I've plenty of beurs that would be on you like flies to shite.'

'Yeah, we'll see.'

Jack braced himself for another question, but Mark just clapped him on the shoulder. 'Ah well. College isn't for relationships anyway. As Wham Bar says, just ride your way through the first year and then pick your favourite.'

Jack forced a grin. 'Sound advice as always from Wham.'

They reached the pier, leaning against the cold metal railing, watching the waves slap against the stone below.

'You hear about him actually?' Mark asked after a pause.

Jack nodded. 'Yeah, Begs told me. Said he's not doing great.'

'It's weird, isn't it? Like, none of us really know how to talk about it.' Mark exhaled, rubbing a hand over his jaw. 'I was up in Cork visiting him two weeks ago. He's different, man. Just stays in his room all day. Doesn't even wanna drink anymore.'

Jack frowned. That wasn't like Wham Bar. At all.

'Begs thinks he's depressed,' Jack said.

'Yeah, well, Begs is probably right.'

Jack didn't know what to say to that. Depression wasn't something they talked about. Lads didn't get depressed. They just got on with things. Except...Wham Bar wasn't getting on with things.

Jack swallowed. 'We should check in on him.'

'Yeah. We should. He's changed, ya know? I'm worried about him.'

Silence stretched between them. Not awkward, but weighted. Jack wanted to tell him about the referendum meeting. About the photo. About how he had stood there holding that stupid fucking sign, posing for a cause he didn't even believe in.

He wanted to tell him about Dublin. About how everything felt so different there. About how the lads in his course talked about voting Yes like it was a no-brainer, while he still had his mother's voice in his ear.

He wanted to tell him about Paul.

The kiss. The way it had set something off inside him that he couldn't switch off. But he said none of it. Instead, he just stood there beside Mark, watching the sea crash against the rocks, the cold wind biting at his face.

Mark shifted beside him. 'You've changed a bit too, y'know?'

Jack's stomach clenched. 'What d'you mean?'

Mark shrugged. 'I dunno. You're just... different.'

Jack forced out a scoff, trying to lighten the tone again. 'Dublin's softened me, has it?'

Mark smirked. 'Maybe, Jacko.' Jack swallowed hard, looking out at the waves, his jaw tight. 'I dunno,' Mark continued, stretching his arms overhead. 'It's just weird we've all left Galway. We're getting old. We're all changing.'

Jack almost laughed. If only he knew, 'yeah.'

'You're OK, yeah?' Mark asked.

'Yeah, why? Are you?'

'Yeah. You'd tell me if something was up though, right?' Jack didn't respond, he just nodded. The words wouldn't leave his mouth. The pair of them stood there a little longer before Mark clapped him on the back. 'Come on, let's get some chips. I'm starving'