OUT

Chapter 9

Thursday, September 11th 2014

'George's Street please,' said Jack, as he struggled onto the bus with his school bag and football gear bag in tow, fighting to get a space. The bus was packed to the brim downstairs, with a mix of students and commuters on the way home, desperately clinging to the yellow beams for support. The windows were steamed up; it was like a sauna on wheels compared to the cold evening outside.

'Coins only.'

'What?' Jack said, pulling out his headphones.

'Coin only,' repeated the bus driver impatiently in a very thick Dublin accent, barely looking at the tattered five Euro note Jack was holding out to him, 'we don't take notes.' Jack fumbled for his wallet for a second, standing in the doorway as people behind him pushed passed and tagged on with their LeapCards - something he still hadn't gotten around to getting.

'Sorry, give me a second,' he said, searching the different compartments of his wallet for coins but could only find a tenner, 'do you take card?'

'What do I look like? Permanent fuckin' TSB? No, we don't take card. Coins or LeapCard only.'

'Hear, tag him on with me,' said a female voice from behind him in what sounded like a Kerry accent, and an arm reached across him and tapped a LeapCard against the machine.

The driver let out a sigh, as if he was annoyed that someone had come to Jack's rescue, 'go on so.'

'Gurbh- Eh, thanks so much.'

'No problem, you're clearly new to the Big Shmoke,' she smiled as the two of them climbed the stairs and made their way to the last two available seats, sitting beside each other with the aisle between them.

He nodded, 'I fuckin' hate Dublin bus.' She smiled again and he noticed she had braces, which seemed unusual for her age. She had to have been in her late twenties. She was dressed in maroon slacks and a loose white shirt. She looked very corporate. Her hair was tied back into a bun, and she wore a pair of reading glasses that looked quite expensive. She carried a Kindle in one hand, and a huge handbag in the other which she placed on her lap. She would actually be very pretty when the braces came off, he thought.

'We're not in Kansas anymore, boyo,' she said in what was definitely a Kerry accent; very melodic.

'I don't know why Dublin bus drivers are always such cunts,' he muttered, 'and why the fuck can't ya pay with notes?'

'Ah they're not all like him, he was a bit of prick alright.' She said and he chuckled, and noticed a girl in the seat ahead of them smirking too, presumably not a Dub either. There was something about meeting other country folk in the city that was refreshing. The country just reared ya different. People were friendlier. Jack couldn't get over how anonymous Dublin was. People were so rude to each other. Nobody said 'hi' on the street, or even gave a little nod of the head in passing.

At home it didn't matter if you knew someone or not - although in fairness, you usually did - you'd still give a little 'hey, how are ya?' as you passed. He missed that, but in a way the anonymity of Dublin suited him too. He could keep his head down, and he wouldn't get stuck talking to one of his mam's friends about the middle aisle specials in Lidl, or how much of a disgrace the new traffic lights were in the village - which they were, in fairness. But the people in Dublin were just so different. He was struggling to find his place.

He hadn't really met anyone he liked yet. He hadn't found anyone he wanted to be friends with. He never thought he'd think it, but he missed Wham Bar and Begs, and of course Mark. Things would be so much easier if they were in Dublin with him, like a home away from home. Then again, being in Dublin alone was far better than at home on the farm alone.

'Where ya from?' she asked, interrupting his train of thought.

'Galway. Spiddal.'

'Oh, gorgeous part of the country! 'Bhfuil Gaeilge 'at?'

'Tá, carbh as duit?'

'Corca Dhuibhne. Kerry abú!'

'Dingle, nice. That's some spot for the sesh. Is O'Flaherty's still going?' he asked.

'Cinnte. That's our family pub.'

'Fuck off?' She nodded. 'Small world.'

'Small world indeed. Anyway, this is my stop. Best of luck in the big bad city...'

'Jack,' he said, extending his free hand to her and shaking hers.

'Meadbh. You must stop by for a pint next time you're up in Dingle.'

'Deal.'

As the bus came to a stop, half of the upper deck poured downstairs and he moved into a free window seat, cleaning off the steam with his sleeve and staring out. It wasn't even eight yet and Camden Street was black. People were gathered in the doorways outside of pubs smoking fags and chatting. There was a group of three girls dressed in skirts that barely covered their asses arguing with a bouncer to get into Palace. He had never seen them before, and would probably never see them again. They didn't know him and he enjoyed that. In Dublin, he was a nobody, and that suited him fine.