Johnny and Clare V

"I can't believe I'm doing this"

We are standing outside the terminal and as a plane rises over our heads he stares worriedly after it.

"That's probably my plane."

He sighs. Exhaling slowly. As if trying to calm himself. His hands rise to his head and he begins to massage his temples.  He looks pale under the light of the shy Irish sun.

Taxis and buses stream by, and people, so many people with other people, all looking shocking happy, and I'm just here with this stranger, this sad stranger, with his big black beard and tired eyes.

"What's a girl meant to do with that Johnny. Nothing worse than regrets. Leave it. You can get on a plane any day."

He looks back up.

"Oh right. Sorry, I just don't have any money. That plane ticket was it and...

His voice ends abruptly as he stares silently after the shrinking plane, and then he blurts out.

"I have to make it to a funeral."

"When's the funeral?"

"It's on Monday."

"Kind of strange day to have a funeral isn't it?"

"It was the only day we all could be there..."

His voice is distant as the tiny speck on the horizon above that was once a plane.

"It's only Thursday Johnny.  You'll be grand."

"The funeral is in Goa."

"A little out of the way, but believe me you'll make it."

"Thanks for the reassurance."

His face is clouded and empty.  The same forlorn look has again captured this canvas.

"Hey Johnny's a bit of a kid name isn't it?  Why don't you have any money Johnny?"

"It's a long story Clare.

"Oh I love stories."

"I'm not sure this is one you want to hear."

"Nonsense, I want to get to the bottom of this, this sadness."

A crowd of Asian tourists passes by with cameras ablaze.

"Will we rent a car Johnny?"

"Clare I would like to take you around Dublin, but I have no money left."

"Oh, don't worry about it. This is on me."

I can see him react to this. He is strait-laced, too much so, and it's hard for him to accept it without paying himself.

"Was this your final destination?"

"You could say it's a homecoming of sorts really."

As I say it I almost shudder, staring daringly at the sun.

"Look Johnny you've brought the sun out."

He smiles, but not easily.  I can see how he has to work, his lips fighting, his eyes still cold, his brows firm. His teeth are white against the black of his beard.  Rain sparkles all around bathing in the light.  We just stand smiling for a moment.  Caught here as if in a strange dream.