Shane arrives in the late afternoon, and suddenly we are five. In the aftermath of the storm, when the tarmac is black and the air is fragrant with petrichor we hike to the touristy side of the beach to have drinks at the Surf Shack. We wipe rain off the picnic benches and sit overlooking the sea. It’s choppy, the sand pockmarked with puddles, but the humid heaviness the last few days spent building has been lifted away, leaving crisp, fresh air in its place. At least for now.
Jen starts demanding everyone’s highlight reel of the past year after only two minutes of small talk, and we talk about how Joe broke his wrist playing frisbee, Jen applied to eleven business schools because she didn’t know what else to put on the forms, and Shane lost his virginity to some girl called Aishling in January, though getting that tidbit is like dragging information from a stone. To distract from our nudges and kissy noises Shane asks me about Michelle, which doesn't help, because then I have to tell them all that we broke up.
It instantly zaps the fun out of things and makes the boys awkward. They grumble vague condolences and start looking around the place like they can pull a less depressing topic of conversation out of the air. I remind myself not to mention her again.
But they don’t have to sit in this particular discomfort for long, because our drinks arrive, carried by Liam, who invites a brand new one by lingering around the table and trying to make conversation. I grit my teeth and remember to be nice.
“Ah look who’s here!” He beams, “the gang are back together!”
“Hi Liam!” Jen’s tone is straining with enthusiasm, “good to see you again, you done your leaving cert?”
“I am indeed! Finished up there last week, t’was some slog, I’ll tell you that. I was just dying to get back out here to the beach and do a bit of surfing. The first group of kids doing the classes are to be down now on the first week of July, and sure then it’s go go go! But look, sure it’s great craic altogether, can’t complain.”
He’s met with blank stares.
“Oh yeah! Sounds fun.” Jen says after a beat, “Well, it’s nice to see-”
“Having any parties or anything like that this summer?” he asks.
“Um, well we’re not sure, but if we do we’ll invite you.” I give her a subtle kick beneath the table, which is a mistake, because she turns her huge, beaming smile on me. Her eyes glint threateningly, “You should ask Jude though, we’re staying at his house, so he gets to decide.”
“Yeah,” I say, “Um, we’ll invite you to whatever we’re doing, we just don’t know yet.” Fine. I want to say to Jen. I’ll invite him, but you can take care of him in the toilet when he’s hammered and sick after one beer.
“That’d be so cool, thanks!” he says, “and I’ve something you can do too, as it happens. My dad is having the first karaoke night of the year down at the local pub next week, you know, just to kind of usher in the beginning of the busy season. You should definitely come along.”
“Karaoke?” Joe echoes, “you want us to sing songs?”
“Well who doesn’t like a good auld sing-song? It’ll be a bit of fun.”
“Probably not,” Joe then turns to Kasper to try and explain to him what is happening in simple English. “Nah, Karaoke, like, singing, and shit” he mutters, “like,” he holds an invisible microphone to his mouth, “la la la, bla bla bla, like, that, like.”
Look, maybe,” I tell Liam, “I don’t think we’re exactly singers here, but we might come to the pub anyway for a few drinks.”
“You might be compelled to belt out a tune or two while you’re there.”
“Stranger things have happened.”
“Alright!” he starts walking back to the Surf Shack, turning one more time to point into our faces, “Think of ye’re songs between now and then, will ya? Just in case you change your mind at some stage!”
Jen looks at me expectantly once he’s gone, and I immediately groan, slumping in my seat under the weight of her expectation. “Fine, I’ll invite him to whatever party, Jen, but I’m not fucking doing karaoke.”
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