Terminal (50 page)

“It’ll only take a second,” he said with exasperation. “Brian and I spent most of last evening bargaining with the State’s Attorney. We got his word that all charges against you will be dropped. As far as I’m concerned, in return for testifying, all I have to do is plead guilty to disturbing the peace and malicious mischief. What do you think?”

“I think that’s great,” Janet said. “Now if you’ll excuse
me.” She tried to get her arm free, but Sean wouldn’t let go.

“There’s something else,” Sean said. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking now that this Forbes thing is out of the way.” Sean averted his gaze and shifted his weight uneasily. “I don’t know how to say this, but remember when you said you wanted to talk about our relationship when you came down to Florida, how you wanted to talk about commitment and all that? Well, I think I want to do that. That is, if you’re still thinking about what I think you were.”

Stunned, Janet looked Sean directly in his deep blue eyes. He tried to look away. Janet reached out and, grasping his chin, turned his head back to face her. “Is all this double-talk an attempt to talk about marriage?”

“Well, yeah, sorta,” Sean equivocated. He pulled away from Janet’s hold on his chin to gaze down the hall. It was difficult for him to look at her. He made some gestures with his hands as if he were about to say more, but no words came.

“I don’t understand you,” Janet said, color spreading across her cheeks. “To think of all the times I wanted to talk and you wouldn’t, and now you bring this up here and now! Well, let me tell you something, Sean Murphy. I’m not sure I can deal with a relationship with you unless you’re willing to make some big changes, and frankly I don’t think you’re capable. After that experience down in Florida, I’m not sure you are what I want. It doesn’t mean I don’t love you, because I do. It just means I don’t think I could live with the kind of relationship you’re capable of.”

Sean was shocked. For a moment he was incapable of speech. Janet’s response had been totally unexpected. “What do you mean by change?” he asked finally. “Change what?”

“If you don’t know and if I have to tell you, then it’s futile. Of course, we could talk about it more tonight, but you have to go out with the boys.”

“Don’t get on my case,” Sean said. “I haven’t seen the guys for weeks with all this legal malarkey going on.”

“That’s undeniably true,” Janet said. “And you have fun.” Again she started down the hall. After a few steps she turned to face him. “Something else unexpected came out of my
Florida trip,” she said. “I’m seriously thinking of going to medical school. Not that I don’t love nursing, and God only knows what a challenge it is, but all that material you introduced me to concerning molecular biology and the medical revolution it’s spawning has turned me on in a way no other academic subject has been able to do. I think I want to be a part of it.

“Well, don’t be a stranger, Sean,” Janet added as she continued down the hall. “And close your mouth.”

Sean was too stunned to speak.

I
T WAS
a little after eight when Sean pushed into Old Scully’s Bar. Not having been able to go for many weeks, he was filled with pleasant anticipation. The bar was jammed with friends and acquaintances and was brimming with good cheer. A number of people had been there since five and were feeling no pain. A Red Sox game was on the tube and at the moment Sean looked at it, Roger Clemens was giving the camera the evil eye while waiting for the sign from the catcher. There were a few cheers of encouragement from a knot of diehard fans grouped directly under the TV. The bases were loaded.

Standing just inside the door, Sean paused to take in the scene. He saw Jimmy O’Connor and Brady Flanagan at the dart board laughing to the point of tears. Someone’s dart had missed the board. In fact, it had missed the wall and was embedded in one of the muntin bars of the window. Obviously, the two were smashed.

At the bar, Sean could see Molly and Pete tirelessly going about their business filling mugs of ale and stout, occasionally holding four or five of the frosted, brimming glasses in a single hand. Shots of Irish whiskey dotted the bar. The day’s problems melted into oblivion much faster with these nips between the drafts of beer.

Sean eyed the guys at the bar. He recognized Patrick FitzGerald, or Fitzie, as they called him. He’d been the most popular guy in high school. Sean could remember as if it were yesterday how Fitzie had stolen his girl when they were in
ninth grade. Sean had fallen head over heels for Mary O’Higgins only to have her disappear at a party he’d brought her to in order to make out with Fitzie in the back of Frank Kildare’s pickup.

But since his high school triumph, Fitzie had put on considerable weight around his middle and his face had assumed a puffy, pasty look. He worked on the maintenance crew down at the old Navy Yard when he worked, and he was married to Anne Shaughnessy, who’d blown up to two hundred pounds after giving birth to twins.

Sean took a step toward the bar. He wanted to be drawn into his old world. He wanted people to slap him on the back, tease him about his brother becoming a priest. He wanted to remember those days when he thought his future was a limitless road to be traveled along with the whole gang. Fun and meaning were to be had in shared experiences that could be enjoyed over and over through reminiscences. In fact, the experiences became more enjoyable with the inevitable embellishment that accompanied each retelling.

But something held Sean back. With a disturbing, almost tragic sense, he felt apart. The feeling that his life had taken a different track from his old friends came back to him with crushing clarity. He felt more like an observer of his old life; he was no longer a participant. The events at the Forbes clinic were forcing him to look at broader issues beyond the confines of his old friends in Charlestown. He no longer had the insulation that innocence of the world provided. Seeing his former friends all half drunk or worse made him appreciate their limited opportunities. For a confusing combination of social and economic reasons, they were caught in a web of repeated mistakes. They were condemned to repeat the past.

Without having spoken a single word to anyone, Sean abruptly turned and stumbled out of Old Scully’s Bar. He quickened his step when he felt a powerful voice coaxing him back to the warm familiarity of this haven of his youth. But Sean had made up his mind. He would not be like his father. He would look to the future, not to the past.

R
ESPONDING TO
a knock on her apartment door, Janet heaved her feet off the ottoman and struggled out of her deep club chair. She’d been perusing a ponderous book she’d picked up in the medical school bookstore called
Molecular Biology of the Cell.
At the door she peered through the security port. She was shocked to see Sean making a stupid face at her.

Fumbling with the locks, Janet finally swung the door open wide.

“I hope I’m not disturbing you,” Sean said.

“What happened?” Janet asked. “Did that favorite haunt of yours burn down?”

“Maybe figuratively,” Sean said.

“None of your old friends show up?” Janet asked.

“They were all there,” Sean said. “May I come in?”

“I’m sorry,” Janet said. “Please.” She stepped aside, then closed the door behind him. “I’ve forgotten my manners. I’m just so surprised to see you. Can I get you something? A beer? A glass of wine?”

Sean thanked her but said no. He sat awkwardly on the edge of the couch. “I went as usual to Old Scully’s…” he began.

“Oh, now I know what happened,” Janet interrupted. “They ran out of beer.”

“I’m trying to tell you something,” Sean said with exasperation.

“Okay, I’m sorry,” Janet said. “I’m being sarcastic. What happened?”

“Everybody was there,” Sean said. “Jimmy O’Connor, Brady Flanagan, even Patrick FitzGerald. But I didn’t talk to anyone. I didn’t get much past the door.”

“Why not?”

“I realized by going there I was condemning myself to the past,” Sean said. “All of a sudden I had an idea about what you and even Brian were talking about concerning change. And you know something? I want to change. I’m sure I’ll have occasional relapses, but I certainly don’t want to be a ‘townie’
all my life. And what I’d like to know is whether or not you’d be willing to help me a little.”

Janet had to blink away a sudden rush of tears. She looked into Sean’s blue eyes and said, “I’d love to help you.”