Schmidt Happens Page 2

  I turn around to Fionn and I go, ‘You’re being very quiet. What do you think of Gruffydd?’ just trying to put the dude on the spot.

  He goes, ‘It’s, em, definitely an interesting name. I just think I’d prefer something a bit more old Irish. I like names like Beathan. Ailpein. Mannix. Mogue. Tully. Caden. Roan. Winford. Merle. Tighe.’

  Honor stands up from the table. ‘I’m sorry,’ she goes, ‘I can’t take any more of this bullshit. I’m going upstairs to vlog.’

  Sorcha looks at me, then back at Honor – her mouth wide open. She goes, ‘What are you talking about?’

  Honor’s there, ‘I’ve become a fashion vlogger. It’s none of your focking business anyway.’

  ‘I didn’t know you were interested in fashion.’

  ‘Well, I wasn’t interested before and I am now. It’s not a big deal. I’ve storted my own YouTube channel – Love Honor and Obey – just putting up stuff about the kind of clothes I like to wear and my favourite beauty products.’

  ‘Love Honor and Obey! Oh my God, that’s a brilliant name! I’d love to work on it with you, Honor. It might be something we could do together. I’ve actually worked in fashion, remember?’

  Sorcha had a boutique in the Powerscourt Townhouse Centre that was basically a tax write-off for her old man during the Celtic Tiger years.

  Honor bitch-smiles her and goes, ‘Yeah, if I’m ever doing a video about tragic clothes from the nineties, I might actually interview you.’

  Then off upstairs she focks.

  Sorcha stands up and takes the baby from Fionn. ‘Look,’ she goes, ‘I realize that this is an unusual set of circumstances for everyone. We’re all going to have to make certain compromises and adjustments. Can we all make it our New Year’s Resolution to try to create a happy, stable home environment for this beautiful little baby, whatever we decide to call him?’

  Cords on the table? He is a cute little thing, even if he does have Fionn’s little moley eyes.

  Her old man goes, ‘Look at the way he’s staring at you, Fionn! I don’t think he’s blinked in, oh, it must be sixty seconds. He’s clearly got a high level of focus and concentration. And, of course, with your two sets of genes, I shouldn’t be surprised.’

  There’s suddenly a loud thud upstairs and the sound of screaming and shouting. Brian and Leo are killing each other. Or maybe it’s Leo and Johnny. Or maybe it’s Johnny and Brian.

  ‘Ross,’ Sorcha goes, ‘can you deal with that?’ and it’s as I’m leaving the kitchen that I hear Fionn say something that stops me dead in my tracks.

  He goes, ‘I’ll go and get my things from the car.’

  I turn around and I’m like, ‘Your things? What things?’

  And – I swear to fock – he’s there, ‘I’m moving in, Ross.’

  I’m like, ‘In? In where?’ at the same time looking at Sorcha for an explanation.

  She goes, ‘Ross, we discussed this. I told you that if Fionn turned out to be the father, it was only fair that he should be allowed to play a full and active role in the baby’s life.’

  ‘I thought that meant he’d be dropping in once or twice a week to see him.’

  Fionn goes, ‘I actually did mention that I wanted to move in.’

  And I’m there, ‘But I didn’t agree to it. It’s my focking house.’

  ‘The alternative is that I could apply for joint custody.’

  Sorcha’s old man goes, ‘No one wants that, Fionn. I’ve worked in family law for forty years. Trust me, this is a much more sensible arrangement.’

  I’m like, ‘So where’s he going to sleep?’

  Sorcha goes, ‘In the guest room – where you were sleeping?’

  ‘And the baby?’

  ‘The baby’s going to be in our room with us.’

  I end up just shaking my head. I knew it was going to take a lot of getting used to – but I had no idea just how much?

  ‘No way,’ I go. ‘It’s not happening.’

  But Sorcha’s old man goes, ‘Come on, Fionn,’ with a big, delighted smile on his face, ‘I’ll help you with your bags.’

  The first thing that hits me is the smell of hash. I get it the second Tina opens the door to me – in her dressing gown, by the way, at three o’clock in the focking afternoon.

  I’m like, ‘How is he?’

  She goes, ‘’Mon up – see for yisser self,’ then she leads me up the stairs to his old bedroom, which I suppose is his new bedroom now?

  Halfway up, I turn around to Tina and I go, ‘Can you not smell that?’ because she’s supposed to be his mother.

  ‘Ine arthur been asleep,’ she tries to go.

  I’m like, ‘In the middle of the afternoon? Yeah, nice parenting, Tina.’

  She’s there, ‘I was woorking the night shift. I oatenly fidished at sebben o’clock this morden.’

  Yeah, no, she’s a nurse in the Mater, which is a good enough excuse, I suppose.

  I’m like, ‘Hey, don’t be so defensive. I was only commenting.’

  She pushes the door and there’s Ronan, lying on his old bed, listening to ‘Amsterdam’ by Coldplay – it was him and Shadden’s song apparently – while sucking on a joint the size of a focking rolling pin.

  The music is so loud and the hash so strong that he doesn’t even notice us standing in the doorway and Tina ends up having to shout. She’s like, ‘Ro, your fadder’s hee-or!’

  She has a voice that could strip the enamel off your teeth. Ronan practically levitates off the bed with fright.

  ‘Moy Jaysus!’ he goes. ‘You frightened the bleaten shire ourra me, Ma! Alreet, Rosser?’

  I’m there, ‘Alright, Ro?’

  Tina walks into the room and storts picking his clothes up off the floor and folding them.

  She’s like, ‘And what hab I toawult you about smoking that stuff in the house?’

  He’s there, ‘Make shurden close the window.’

  ‘Make shurden close the window,’ she goes, at the same time closing the window. ‘You know that Git Spence’s young fedda is a tout.’

  ‘Fooking informer,’ he goes. ‘Fooking rat bastard informer.’

  ‘And you’d wanna think about getting up ourra that bed. It’s not naturdoddle lying in bed all day listodden to the sayum song oaber and oaber.’

  Ro looks at me and rolls his eyes. Or maybe they’re rolling of their own accord. It smells like pretty strong hash – insofar as I’m a judge of working-class drugs.

  He goes, ‘Jaysus sakes, Ine still greebon, Ma.’

  She’s like, ‘Greebon? What are you greebon foe-er?’

  ‘Me maddidge is arthur enton.’

  ‘You werdunt married.’

  ‘Me engayuchmint, then.’

  ‘Best thing that ebbor happened to you, getting away from that famidy. Now gerrup ourra that bed – you were apposed to be back at coddidge yestorthay.’

  Tina focks off then and Ro tells me to sit down. I pork the old glutes on the edge of the bed while he lies down again and relights his joint.

  I look at the walls. This room takes me back to the very first time I met my son a thousand unsupervised access days ago. His posters of Eminem, Henrik Larsson and the Ireland World Cup squad from 2002. Then photoshopped pictures of the Mona Lisa smoking a joint, Jesus at the Last Supper smoking a joint, Bob Morley smoking a joint. Actually, that last one might not be photoshopped – from what I’ve heard, the dude was pretty fond of the stuff.

  I’m there, ‘Your mother’s right, Ro. What she said. About you calling off the wedding? It was the bravest thing you’ve ever done – although you could have saved me a fortune by cancelling the reception as well.’

  He goes, ‘Ine misson me thaughter teddible bad, Rosser,’ and there’s real sadness in his little yellow eyes.

  I’m like, ‘Rihanna-Brogan? Are you saying you haven’t seen her?’

  ‘Habn’t seen her since I walked out of the choorch in the middle of the reheersoddle.’

  ‘But you’re entitled to se
e her, Ro. You’re her old man.’

  ‘Shadden’s arthur thaken her away.’

  ‘Away? Away where?’

  ‘On the huddymoowunt.’

  ‘The what?’

  ‘The huddymoowunt.’

  ‘Again?’

  ‘The huddymoowunt.’

  ‘Okay, I think you’re trying to say honeymoon. Blink your eyes if you’re trying to say honeymoon.’

  He blinks his eyes.

  Yeah, no, they were supposed to be going to Florida for two weeks – Ronan, Shadden and Rihanna-Brogan. We’re talking Disney World, the whole works.

  I’m there, ‘Are you saying that she still went? Even though the wedding was called off?’

  ‘She brought her mutter instead of me,’ Ronan goes. ‘I saw it on her Facebuke. She said she myras well – the thing was altreddy paid foe-er.’

  I’m suddenly laughing, picturing Dordeen tripping over one of Goofy’s big feet, then throwing in a claim. And that’s when it suddenly hits me – like a focking snow shovel to the face.

  ‘Hang on!’ I go. ‘I paid for that as well! Full-focking-board. Jesus Christ, Ro, why didn’t you cancel all of these things?’

  He’s like, ‘I’d a lot on me moyunt, Rosser.’

  ‘These people are fock-all to do with us now and I’ve just sent them on a two-week holiday to Florida!’

  ‘And the Cadda Beeyunt.’

  The Caribbean! That’s right! I paid for a focking cruise as well!

  I’m like, ‘Fock’s sake,’ feeling like a definite mug.

  He goes quiet for a long time, then he goes, ‘I hoort Shadden, Rosser.’

  I’m there, ‘People get hurt all the time, Ro. It’s an unfortunate fact of life. But dumping her was a lot kinder than marrying her, then spending the rest of your life cheating on her. I should know.’

  He hands me the joint. I take a blast from it. Fock, it’s strong shit. I end up having an actual coughing fit.

  ‘So how’s that all going?’ he goes, meaning my own domestic situation? He knows by now that Fionn is the father of Sorcha’s baby and that me and Sorcha are back together.

  I’m there, ‘Hey, I’m just making the best of a shit state of affairs. He’s moved in, by the way.’

  ‘What? The funny-lookin’ fedda with the glasses?’

  I laugh.

  I’m there, ‘That’s exactly him. I’m going to remember that quote. Focking sums him up.’

  ‘So you’re back sleeping in Sudeka’s bed, the fadder of the babby is, what, across the lanthon? And where’s the little babby sleeping?’

  ‘In with us.’

  He goes, ‘Moy Jaysus!’ and he just shakes his head.

  I forget sometimes that Southsiders must seem as strange to Northsiders as Northsiders do to everyone else.

  Tina knocks on the door, then sticks her head around it.

  ‘Ro,’ she goes, ‘Shadden’s da is dowunstayors.’

  I’m up off the bed quickest. I’m like, ‘Kennet?’ my fists instantly tightening.

  Ronan goes, ‘Keep the head, Rosser.’

  I’m there, ‘What does he want?’

  ‘I ast him to calt arowunt,’ Ro goes.

  I’m like, ‘What? Why?’

  ‘I caddent affowurt to fall out wirrum. Wetter I see me thaughter or not is dowun to him, Rosser. Utterwise, it’s munts and munts going troo the cowurts, looking for access.’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘Ine godda throy and smoowit things oaber with the madden.’

  Fock. I probably should mention the mouthful of abuse I gave him on New Year’s Eve – except I don’t?

  We tip downstairs, Ro first, then me following closely behind. Ro opens the door and I think it’s fair to say that neither of us is prepared for the shock that awaits us.

  All of Ronan’s worldly possessions have been dumped in the gorden. I notice his Celtic jerseys. His collection of bongs. A framed poster of an alien – obviously smoking a joint. The kids from the neighbourhood are helping themselves to his shit and Kennet is standing there, just letting them. I end up chasing them off like crows in Ballyogan.

  Ronan goes, ‘What are you doing?’

  Kennet’s like, ‘Joost returden yisser s … s … s … s … s … s … stuff.’

  ‘Could you not hab let me collect it meself?’

  ‘I doatunt want you addywhere nee-or that house. You hoort moy little p … p … p … p … p … p …’

  I presume the word he’s attempting to say is ‘princess’, but Ronan can’t be orsed waiting for him to say it.

  ‘Kennet,’ he goes, ‘I doatunt lub Shadden.’

  He’s there, ‘So you said in the choorch. Well, now she’s off on the croowuz wit her mutter. Hab you seen her p … p … p … pitchers on the Facebuke?’

  Ro’s like, ‘I hab, yeah.’

  ‘There’s one of her wirra waiter, looking veddy cosy togetter. A big, b … b … b … b … b … b … big, muscly fedda. I says to Dadden, “I hope he’s rooting her. She deserbs it arthur what that little bastard p … p … p … p … p … p … p … p … purrer troo.”’

  I’m like, ‘Jesus Christ, Kennet, that’s your focking daughter you’re talking about.’

  ‘Ah, the Rosser fedda,’ he goes. ‘I was w … w … w … w … w … wontherdin when you’d throw your p … p … p … p … peddy’s woort in.’

  Ronan goes, ‘Look, Kennet, Ine soddy it ditn’t woork out between Shadden and me. Alls Ine inthordested in now is being a good fadder to Rihatta-Barrogan.’

  Kennet’s like, ‘Yeah, that w … w … w … w … woatunt be happoden, Ronan, Ine afrayut.’

  ‘I’ve rights, Kennet.’

  ‘You’ve no bleaten rights. You geb up your bleaten rights the m … m … m … m … midute you walked out on her m … m … m … mutter.’

  Ro storts literally pleading with the dude. ‘Kennet,’ he goes, ‘you caddent stop me seeing me owunt thaughter!’

  Kennet looks at me and he smiles. ‘See, I was morten happy for you to hab a r … r … r … r … r … relashiddenship wirrer,’ he goes. ‘That was until your fadder hee-or opened he’s m … m … m … m … mowt last week.’

  Ro looks at me. He’s like, ‘What’s he thalken about, Rosser?’

  Kennet goes, ‘He geb me a m … m … m … m … owt fuddle of abuse on the phowunt. I oatenly rag him up to say, no heerd f … f … f … f … f … feelons – important we all gerron for the sake of the young wooden.’

  I’m there, ‘That’s not exactly how the conversation went, Kennet. You asked me for seventy focking Ks.’

  ‘N … N … N … N … Next thing I know,’ he goes, ‘he’s c … c … c … c … cawding us all s … s … s … scuddem bags. The wholet famidy – me, Dordeen, Shadden, Dadden, Kadden. Saying the best thing you ebber did was p … p … p … put distiddence between you and us.’

  Ronan looks at me. He’s like, ‘Did you say that, Rosser?’

  I can’t deny it. I give it a shot, though. I’m there, ‘He’s making it up.’

  Kennet goes, ‘Ine making you’re a probiss hee-or today, Ronan. You’re nebber godda see your th … th … th … th … th … th … th … th … th … th … th … th … thaughter again. And you’ve your f … f … f … f … fadder theer to thank for that.’

  Kennet walks away then – focking ridiculous pigeon-walk on him. Ronan just looks at me with tears in his eyes. He goes, ‘You bleaten flute, Rosser.’

  I’m there, ‘Ro, I’ll fix it. Don’t worry.’

  But he turns his back on me, then he disappears into the gaff, before shouting, ‘You’re arthur boddicksing evoddy thing up!’ then slamming the door behind him.

  Sorcha’s already in bed when I walk into the room wearing my Leinster rugby base layer, which does me a lot of favours in terms of showcasing the abdominals in a flattering light. She doesn’t take the hint, though.

  She goes, ‘What do you think of either Braddock or Legion?’

  I’m like, ‘Are
they paint colours for the walls of the nursery?’

  She goes, ‘They’re boys’ names, Ross. Those are the latest ones we’re thinking in terms of?’

  ‘Oh,’ I go, trying to sound like I actually care, but falling someway short. ‘Hmmm.’

  She’s there, ‘So how was Ronan?’

  I’m like, ‘Yeah, no, he’s struggling, to be honest. Kennet says he’s going to stop him seeing Rihanna-Brogan.’

  ‘He can’t do that, can he?’

  ‘It’s Finglas, Sorcha. Who knows what’s legal out there?’

  ‘Could you maybe have a word with Kennet for him?’

  ‘I, er, kind of did that already. I don’t want to be too critical of myself, but I think I may have actually made things worse.’

  ‘Oh, well, at least you tried. Are you flexing there, Ross?’

  ‘Flexing?’

  ‘Er, your stomach muscles?’

  ‘Not really.’

  ‘You look like you’re flexing your stomach muscles.’

  ‘I’m not. But, in fairness to me, I have been doing a lot of sit-ups recently.’

  She yawns twice – one straight after the other – then she goes, ‘Oh my God, all the yawns!’

  I’m there, ‘I hope that’s not your way of saying you’re tired,’ and I give her one of my famous smiles.

  She instantly goes, ‘Forget it, Ross. We’re not doing that.’

  I nod in a hopefully understanding way.

  I’m there, ‘How long did the midwife say it would be before you were, you know – I hate to use the phrase – but back in the saddle?’

  She goes, ‘Ross, in case you haven’t noticed, there’s a baby in the room?’

  I’m there, ‘He’s asleep, though.’

  I look into the crib and I click my fingers three times.

  ‘Yeah, no, look,’ I go, ‘he’s totally out of it.’

  She’s there, ‘It doesn’t matter. Ross, I’m not having sex with you when the baby is in the room.’

  ‘How long is he going to be focking sleeping in here, then?’

  ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘I’m asking the question, Sorcha. When you said you wanted us to get back together, I took it for granted that sex was going to be included in the deal.’

  ‘So what do you want me to do, Ross? Do you want me to put the baby outside on the landing, then bring him back in when you’ve had your five minutes of fun?’