he asked. She sat down at the other end of the table, smiling faintly. Yes, she said. Do
you object? After swallowing he answered: Not at all. And you get paid from the taxpayer as well, do you? She said yes. Although not a lot, she added. He was licking the back of the spoon. What’s not a lot to you? he asked. She took a tangerine from the fruit bowl and started to unpeel it. About twenty thousand a year, she said. His eyebrows shot up, and he put the yoghurt down. You’re not serious, he said. After tax?
She said no, before. He was shaking his head. I make more than that, he said. She left a long spiralling piece of orange peel down on the table. And why shouldn’t you? she asked. He was staring at her. How do you even live? he said. She broke the tangerine in half with her fingers. I often wonder, she replied. He went back to his yoghurt, murmuring in a friendly tone of voice: Fuck’s sake. After swallowing another mouthful, he added: And you went to college for that? She was chewing. No, I went to college to learn, she said. He laughed. Fair enough, he answered. Anyway, you probably like your job, do you? She moved her head from side to side uncertainly, and then said: I don’t hate it. He was nodding, looking down into the yoghurt pot. That’s where we’re different, so, he said. She asked him how long he had been at the warehouse and he told her eight or ten months. The coffee pot started sputtering and she got up to look inside.
Pulling her sleeve down over her hand, she poured two cups and carried them to the table. He watched her, and then said: Here, can I ask you something? Sitting back down at the table, she replied: Sure. He was frowning to himself. How come you’re only visiting her now? he said. I mean, you live in Dublin, it’s not that far away. And she’s been here for ages. Eileen’s posture stiffened while he spoke, but she said nothing, made no particular expression with her face. She added a spoonful of sugar to her coffee without speaking. The way she talks about you, he added, she makes it sound like you’re best friends. Quickly and coolly Eileen answered: We are best friends. Behind
her a little rain speckled the kitchen window. Right, so how come it took you all this time to come and see her? he asked. I’m just curious. If she’s your best friend I would have thought you’d want to visit her before. Eileen’s face was white, her nostrils were white when she took in a deep breath and released it. You know I have a job, she said.
He was screwing one eye closed then, frowning. Yeah, so do I, he said. But you hardly work weekends, do you? Eileen’s arms were folded now, her hands gripping her upper arms through the sleeves of her dressing gown. And why didn’t she come and visit me?
she asked. If she’s so keen on seeing me. She doesn’t work weekends, does she? Felix seemed to find this remark peculiar, and he turned it over a moment before answering. I didn’t say she was so keen on seeing you, he asked. Maybe neither of you were that keen on seeing each other, I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking. Gripping her arms very tightly now Eileen said: Well, maybe we weren’t. He was nodding his head then.
Did you have a falling-out or something? he asked. Irritably she moved a strand of hair out of her face. You don’t actually know anything about me, she said. He took this in, and after a moment answered: You don’t know anything about me either. She folded her arms again. That’s why I’m not interrogating you, she said. He smiled at that. Fair enough, he replied. He swallowed the last of his coffee and got to his feet, taking his jacket from the back of a chair where he’d left it the night before. My theory would be, people like them two are different from you and me, he said. You’ll only drive yourself crazy trying to make them act the way you want. Eileen watched him for a few seconds and then replied: I’m not trying to make either of them do anything. Felix had unzipped his backpack and was stuffing his jacket down inside. You have to ask yourself, he said, if they wreck your head so much, why bother? He put his bag over his shoulder then.
There must be some reason on your side, he went on. Why you care. Staring down into
her coffee cup then, she said very quietly: Fuck off. He gave a surprised little laugh.
Eileen, he said, I’m not attacking you. I like you, alright? She was silent. Maybe you should go back to bed, he added. You look tired. I’m off anyway, see you later on.
Outside the front door, a mist of morning rain. He got into the car, turned the CD player on and pulled out of the driveway. Watching the road, he whistled along with the music, adding little riffs and variations to the melody now and then, as he drove past the turn-off for the village, along the coast road to the industrial estate.