Pieces of My Heart (36 page)

‘Oh, Sally, it sounds perfect.’

‘Honestly, Ava, it kind of is and I can’t believe it myself. I keep waiting for something awful to happen. Simon rings when he says he’s going to – what guy ever does that? We never run out of things to talk about and I don’t feel I have to hold my stomach in when I’m walking around in my underwear. I’ve never not done that, even after three years with Jeremy. He makes me feel so good about myself – he’s constantly telling me I’m wonderful and sexy and witty.’

‘Stop! This is too much. It’s like
Love Story
or something!’

‘I know – and it’s happening to me, which is so weird. I never, ever thought it would. There is just one teeny thing that bothers me, though.’

‘Thank God for that. What is it?’

‘His hair.’

‘It does look a bit strange,’ I agreed.

‘I know it’s really shallow – I finally meet this amazing man and here I am obsessing about his hair. But I can’t help it. The more I looked at it, the more it looked like a really bad wig. It was really beginning to bug me so last night after a few glasses of wine I just blurted it out.’

‘Oh, God. What did you say? What did
he
say?’

Sally explained that she had asked him straight out …

‘What’s the deal with your hair?’

He bristled. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I’m sorry, Simon, but it looks really weird. I swore I wouldn’t ask, because it doesn’t matter – it makes no difference to the way I feel about you. But I just don’t see how you could have been born like that.’

‘I wasn’t.’

‘Is it a wig?’

‘No, it’s a transplant.’

Sally spluttered her wine back into the glass. ‘What?’

He sighed. ‘My hair started to fall out about two years ago. Maura freaked. She said I looked old and ugly and she didn’t want to be with a bald man.’

‘The shallow cow,’ Sally said, trying to deflect attention from her own criticism of his mop.

‘She kept going on about it. She said she couldn’t stand seeing me looking so old with my receding hairline. She said I shouldn’t let myself go, there were options, men didn’t have to be bald any more, there were treatments available and on and on. Eventually I gave in and went for a consultation with this hair specialist.’

‘What did he say?’ Sally asked, although judging by the barnet Simon had, he must have proposed sticking a raccoon on his head.

‘He suggested a transplant.’

‘How many did you have?’

‘Hilarious. Just one.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes, it was a big one.’

‘You don’t say.’

‘Is it that bad?’

‘No, it’s just very full and springy.’

‘I know it looks like a rug, but apparently it’ll calm down over time.’

‘When did you get it done?’

‘About eight months ago, right around the time my wife was shagging someone else.’

‘She’s a piece of work.’

‘And it was bloody painful.’

‘What do they do? Where does the hair come from? Is it real or animal hair?’

‘Jesus – does it look like animal hair?’

‘No!’ she lied. ‘It doesn’t. I just thought I read something about it somewhere …’

‘They take hair from the back of your head that is genetically resistant to going bald and transplant it to the balding area.’

‘How?’

‘They trim the hair at the back that they’re taking out and then they give you a local anaesthetic in that area and then they cut it out.’

‘That sounds excruciating.’

‘And then they sew it into the front of your head where you’re going bald. And then you have bloody scabs for a week or so.’

‘I think I’m going to be sick.’

‘And after all that pain the bitch had an affair.’

‘Are you happy with the transplant?’

‘It’s ridiculous. The clinic I went to was a joke. I’ve seen guys with good transplants and they don’t look like this.’

‘Why don’t you get it cut really short? I think it’d look great.’

‘Do you? To be honest, Maura really knocked my confidence and I don’t know what to do. I feel like a total gobshite for having gone ahead with it. I look back now and think how could I have been so stupid? But when someone keeps going on and on at you, sometimes it’s easier to give in.’

‘Just so you know, I have no problem with baldness. So, if all your hair does eventually fall out, I won’t start shagging someone else. But I would like to take you to my hairdresser to get it cut tomorrow.’

‘Be honest, what does it look like?’

‘Do you remember Davy Crockett’s raccoon-fur hat?’ Sally started giggling.

‘You cow,’ Simon said, wrestling her to the ground. ‘Take that back.’

‘WHORE, SLAPPER, PROSTITUTE.’

Sally couldn’t believe it. They had had Maura barred from coming within a hundred yards of her apartment. She looked out of the window and there she was, across the green, with a megaphone.

‘Right. That’s it.’ Sally stormed out of the door.

She strode across the green and grabbed the megaphone from Maura’s hands. Digging her finger into the woman’s chest, she hissed, ‘Now, you listen to me, you fruitcake. I’ve had enough of you shouting abuse at me. You screwed around while you were married to him and you ruined your marriage so stop blaming me. If you want to shout at someone I suggest you look in the mirror. And by the way what the hell were you thinking with the hair transplant? It looks ridiculous.’

‘It’s a lot better than it was. He looked terrible with a receding hairline.’

‘Give me bald any day.’

‘I want him back.’

‘He’s not available. Listen closely, Loopy-Lu, I’ve waited forty-three long, lonely years to meet someone like Simon and nothing – least of all you and your mad ranting – is going to persuade me to give him up. So why don’t you give your vocal cords a rest? If you think you’re scaring me off, you’re sadly mistaken. Let me put it in terms you can relate to. I’ll have myself transplanted onto him if I have to. This one is a keeper, so piss off and find someone else to torment.’

‘Way to go, Sally.’ I was impressed with my friend’s feistiness. ‘Did she leave?’

‘Damn right she did. She scurried off back to her car with her megaphone and I went back to my boyfriend with the big hair.’ We roared laughing.

41

The next evening Paul came home early from work again for dinner. When we finished eating, Charlie left to drive Nadia to work and Sarah and Bobby went upstairs to rehearse their play. We lingered over a glass of wine in the kitchen.

‘How was Ali today when you spoke to her?’ Paul asked.

‘Good – she really seems to be trying to eat more and she says she wants to get better so she can get off bed-rest and come home. She seems to have turned a corner and she’s actually talking to me for the first time in ages.’

‘That’s a bonus.’

‘Makes a nice change from the one-sided phone calls and monosyllabic answers.’

‘How’s her friend getting on?’

‘I don’t think Emily’s doing too well. Ali said she’s still on bed-rest, isn’t eating and seems very down.’

‘Poor kid – the dad must be some arsehole to have turned her into such a basket case.’

‘Apparently he was a very abusive drunk. I think Ali appreciates you more now.’

‘Alleluia. Maybe I’ll be forgiven for forcing her to do medicine.’

‘Paul, you need to let that go.’

‘I know and I will. It just threw me. I thought I was encouraging her and she says I was pressurizing her. It’s made me second-guess everything I say to her now and to Sarah too. Take tonight, for instance, when Sarah was talking about wanting to be an actress. I wanted to tell her to cop on and focus on having a real career but I stopped myself in case I damaged her or something.’

‘We both need to censor ourselves for a while, until things settle down. Only positive comments and lots of listening without opinions or judgement.’

‘That can be easier said than done. I’ve seen Sarah act and Hollywood will not be waiting for her with open arms.’

‘I know, but the play has been a great distraction for her. She’s very upset about Ali and sometimes she feels overshadowed by Ali’s academic success. This is a really big deal for her and she wants to prove to us that she has talent.’

‘Sure we’ve seen most of the play already and it’s a shambles,’ Paul said.

‘That’s a bit harsh.’

‘Ava, Shakespeare is regarded as the greatest writer of the English language and they have taken his most famous and tragic play and turned it into a French farce.’

‘It’s not a farce. It’s just different and a bit over-the-top. But I think it shows initiative and creativity to translate the text into modern teenage-speak.’

‘The “teenage-speak”, as you call it, does my head in.’

‘All teenagers go through phases of talking strangely or in code or made-up languages.’

‘I didn’t.’

‘Didn’t you? When I was in school we made up a language where you left all the vowels out. It was fun actually.’

‘It sounds like a riot.’

‘There’s no need to be sarcastic. What did you do when you were a teenager?’

‘Played sport, chased girls, smoked behind the bicycle shed – normal things.’

‘To each their own.’

‘I just hope the play isn’t a total car crash.’

‘Whatever the reaction of the other parents, you and I will be in the front row cheering her on proudly.’

The kitchen door swung open. Sarah and Bobby barged into the kitchen arguing.

‘It’s just ridiculous, Bobby. Romeo would never do anything so lame.’

‘The whole play is lame. I just want to do something to keep my street cred intact.’

‘You are so not saying it. Why do you want to change the words now? Like, hello! The play is tomorrow. It’s too bloody late.’

‘Time out,’ Paul said. ‘What’s going on?’

‘Bobby is supposed to say, “Juliet, you’re an awesome dancer. I’m not worthy to touch your hand.” But instead he’s decided to change it to “Juliet, you’re an awesome dancer. Let me show you some cool moves,” and he starts to dance. It’s not about Romeo being a good dancer, it’s about me – I mean Juliet – being a cool dancer.’

‘Why don’t you show us the scene and we’ll tell you if we think it works?’ I said, trying to calm things down. Sarah was up to ninety about the play. She had some deluded notion that a Hollywood talent spotter might turn up to a school play in the Dublin suburbs.

‘OK. We need more space so we’ll have to do it in the lounge,’ Sarah said.

And so, once again, Paul and I found ourselves sitting in our front room, trying not to laugh as our daughter and her boyfriend modernized Shakespeare.

‘This is the scene where Romeo and Juliet are totally flirting at the ball,’ Sarah explained.

Juliet, in a luminous pink tracksuit and Ugg boots, danced around while Romeo, in his white Abercrombie hoody and saggy tracksuit bottoms, shuffled beside her.

‘You’re a really awesome dancer. Do you want to see some of my moves?’ Romeo said, and with that he flung himself onto the floor and started twirling around on his shoulders and head with surprising agility.

‘So that’s where break-dancing originated,’ Paul whispered, ‘in Verona.’ I willed myself to keep a straight face.

As Romeo twirled, Juliet looked decidedly fed up. ‘OK, I get the picture – you like to dance.’

Romeo hopped up. ‘Can I snog you?’

‘You’re a bit keen, aren’t you?’

‘Yeah, actually, I am, totally.’

‘Well, I’m not going to snog you.’

‘Fair enough. I’ll make the first move.’ He kissed her.

‘Bobby! I said no tongues. It’s a play,’ Sarah screeched, pushing him away.

‘Quite right. None of that, thank you,’ Paul chimed in.

‘Sorry, I was carried away with the role,’ Bobby admitted.

‘Come on, focus,’ Sarah snapped.

‘Fair enough. I’ll make the first move,’ Romeo said, kissing Juliet, more appropriately this time. ‘I feel as if all my sins have been washed away now.’

‘Dude, are you telling me you’ve passed them all on to me? What am I going to do now? I’m totally infected.’

‘I’ll just take them back,’ he said, kissing her again.

‘You’re a really good kisser,’ Juliet said. ‘And that’s it, because then the Nurse comes in and ruins the moment,’ Sarah explained. ‘So what do you think? Do you not see how Romeo break-dancing in the middle of the play is totally stupid?’

‘Well,’ I said, trying to choose my words carefully so as not to offend either party, ‘Bobby, you certainly have a great talent for spinning on your head, but I do agree that it might not be the best place to demonstrate it.’

‘The thing is, Mrs M, Romeo is kind of a loser. He spends the whole play chasing Juliet around and then, like, does himself in because he loves her so much. I’m just not that comfortable playing someone who’s such a geek.’

‘But Juliet did just say that you were an excellent kisser,’ I reminded him. ‘So that’s good for your reputation.’

‘Hello! Can you stop being such a child?’ Sarah raged at her boyfriend. ‘It’s a play. You are performing a role, not playing yourself. It’s called acting. Do you think Leonardo DiCaprio thought Romeo was lame when he played him? I don’t think so. And f.y.i., Bobby, every girl in school fancies Leo DiCaprio. So why don’t you get over yourself and just play the part like we practised? If you can’t do that, then I’ll call Adrian the understudy and get him to take your place. He’d love to play Romeo so he can kiss me.’

‘I never said I had to dance. I just said I thought it might work. It’s called improvisation – really good actors try it all the time. I thought you’d know that. So we tried it and we don’t think it works. I’m cool with that.’

‘There you go, all sorted out. Well done, you two, good team work. Is there anything else you want us to give our opinion on?’ I asked.

‘No, thanks, Mum, we’re OK now. Come on, Bobby, we need to do our spray tan. We should probably do three coats. We want to look really hot.’

‘Totally. The Italians have really dark skin and we want to look like the real thing,’ Bobby agreed.

‘What do you mean, Italians?’ Sarah asked, puzzled.

‘Babe, Verona is in Italy. Romeo and Juliet are Italian.’

‘Seriously?’ Sarah asked, looking to her father for confirmation.