Page 27 of The Reboot
‘No, but … your welfare. I didn’t feel he took care of you like he should have done.’
Roly sighed and concentrated on rubbing a circle on the wood of the table with his thumb. ‘Maybe he tried. But you know, I wasn’t very open to getting help at that stage.’
‘I guess.’ She bit her lip, looking troubled.
‘Anyway, it wasn’t his job to look after me. I was a grown-up. I should have been able to take care of myself.
Ella looked like she wanted to argue, but said nothing. Roly looked around the cafe. It had been filling up as they’d talked. Glancing at the clock on the wall, he saw it was almost one. He’d arranged to meet Ella for coffee at eleven so that if it was awkward, he could cut and run quickly. But he hadn’t even noticed the time passing, and it was as if it was only yesterday they’d last spoken to each other. Now he didn’t want it to end. He felt like he always had when he was saying goodbye to her, just wanting to prolong the brief snatches of time they had together.
‘Another?’ he asked, pointing at her mug.
‘I’d better not. If I drink any more coffee, I’ll get the jitters.’
‘Do you want to get some lunch?’
‘Yes, I’m starving!’
‘My treat,’ he said quickly, remembering what she’d said about being skint.
‘Thanks, but I’m sure I can afford a sandwich … if you can. I mean, it sounds like we’re both kind of in the same boat money-wise.’
‘Oh, yeah.’ He kept forgetting he was poor now. That would take some getting used to. No more playing the big shot for him – not that springing for lunch was being a big shot. Or maybe it was now? That was a depressing thought.
‘We could stay here, or … there’s a great pizza place across the road. Best in Dublin for my money – and they’ve had alotof my money. It’s takeaway only, but I live near here, so we could go back to my place?’ He felt reckless asking her back to his, considering how he’d left the place – the dirty mugs strewn around, the takeaway cartons, the piles of plates and papers that littered every surface. He’d decided to meet Ella here because he’d rather risk sitting somewhere public with her than spend hours trying to make the house presentable. But now he thought: Fuck it! Ella wouldn’t care.
Her face lit up. ‘That’d be brilliant!’
‘Just to warn you, though, it’s a bit of a shithole.’
She shrugged. ‘I’ll take my chances.’
9
It wasa mild March day and the street was busy with Saturday shoppers as they stepped out into the sunshine. They bought huge pizza slices from the takeaway counter across the road and walked back to Roly’s house in nearby Portobello. Delicious smells of hot dough and herby tomato sauce wafted up from the warm cardboard boxes they carried, and Ella couldn’t stop smiling. It had been so long since she’d spent a freewheeling weekend morning with a friend, drifting from coffee to lunch to wherever the mood took them. It was the ordinary, everyday life that had been out of her reach all those years, and she was fizzing with excitement to be part of it again … which was pathetic. No, fuck it. Itwasexciting, and she wasn’t going to let herself feel ashamed about that. She was allowed to enjoy it.
It was a short walk to Roly’s house in a quiet street of terraced red-brick houses.
‘It doesn’t look like a shithole,’ Ella said, looking around as Roly fumbled in his pocket for his key, while balancing the pizza box in his other hand. There was a small pebbled garden to one side, and a prettily tiled path led to the navy-blue door.
‘It’s not a shithole in itself. It’s more what I’ve done with the place.’
‘Oh.’ She smiled. ‘Slob?’
‘Yeah. You’ve been warned.’ He pushed open the door and nodded to her to go ahead of him.
‘Oh, I see what you mean.’ She followed Roly into a large airy living room with a Victorian cast-iron fireplace and large sash bay windows. Ella looked around, admiring the high ceilings and original features. It was a beautiful room, but every surface was buried under piles of clutter, and the floor was littered with takeaway boxes and empty bottles. There were used plates and mugs mouldering on the coffee table and random items of clothing strewn across the furniture. It could be mistaken for the aftermath of a wild weekend, but Ella recognised the signs of depression and inertia in the mess. She’d let her room get like this sometimes when she was going through a particularly low phase and even throwing a pizza box in the trash was too much effort.
‘I did warn you.’
She shrugged. ‘It’s lovely. It just needs some tidying up. I love these old Victorian houses.’
‘Well, have a seat.’ He waved her to the pale-blue sofa facing the window. Only one side was clear – obviously where Roly usually sat – and she folded herself onto it.
He cleared a space on the coffee table for the pizza boxes. ‘Drink? he asked, rubbing his hands. ‘Tea? Fizzy water? I don’t have anything stronger, I’m afraid.’
‘That’s fine. Drinking in the middle of the day doesn’t agree with me anyway.’
‘I’d offer you a Coke or something, but I kind of threw out all my food yesterday.’
