v
The drive out was gas.
Lots of laughing and similar revelry.
John Joe, the cousin of Patrick, seated in the back, talked of nothing except drink and whores. I was not shocked.
They talked of blacks and the rest. Racism and bigotry thick as fucking blood. It was hilarious! Nothing was sacred.
Haha ha ha hahaha ha haha.
All the way past Recess.
These were two guys I could love. They had an innate sense of hatred for everything serious.
I was surprised though.
Given that when I met them in the morning I expected to be arrested at first sight. By Licky and crew. Surely someone had seen me.
But there was no one else there. Except Patrick and John Joe.
—Where are ya goin, said one of them.
—Letter something, I said.
—Frack.
—Yes, I said. My mother lives there, lived there. Once.
—What’s her name?
—I don’t know, I said.
—You don’t know!
—I can’t remember. She’s my mother. I know that much.
—Fair enough, old man.
—Is she in the land of the living?
—I could not tell you, I said to John Joe.
They turned off for Letterfrack. Nothing looked familiar. They said they were going to Tullycross. Did I want to come? I said I did. They said ok. I looked out the window. It was raining. Then the car stopped. They dropped me there. On the side of the road.
I will never see them again, I said to myself quietly.
—We’ll see you later, they both said. Down at the dock.
Why?
It was cold and windy.
A man on a horse passed by.
—Excuse me, I said.
—Yes, he said.
—Do you know of any Jacob family living near here?
He thought for a second.
—Never heard of them.
He rode on.
So there I was, as close as possible to where I came from, but no closer to the truth of who or what I was.
Maybe I had been wrong.
Perhaps I should have stayed in Dublin. Maybe the answers were there.
Fuck this, I said.
John Joe and Patrick drove past. It was almost as if they were going around in circles. Like two clowns from hell. The car stopped. Roll the window down.
Roll.
—What’s up with ya?
—I can’t find my house.
