So here is Roy, Sunday lunch time, home alone, bored, irritated, riddled with restlessness, he can’t even have a wank to take the edge off because each time he tries he is haunted by images of things Saoirse might be doing with Brandon the Bumpkin. He makes himself a cheese sandwich that he abandons after only one bite because it tastes like a used condom stuck between two pieces of cardboard and tries to ring Joël, again, he’s been trying to ring him for the past 2 hours, except Joël still has his stupid phone switched off. Roy doesn’t know why Joël even has a phone, he never bothers to answer it. Roy is tempted to ring him on the landline except Joël’s mother might answer it; Roy is a tiny bit afraid of Joël’s mother, not that he’d ever admit it to Joël or anybody else, but there are times he’s almost been convinced she doesn’t like him, as ridiculous as that sounds. He doesn’t really need to talk to Joël all that much, anyway, he’ll see him at school tomorrow. He might go for a swim. That should clear his head and cool him down a bit. It’s probably this humid weather making him feel unsettled and out of sorts.
He swims half a dozen cleansing laps, the effort required to churn through the cool azure water rinsing his mind of all other thought. Then he hears his name being called. He lifts his head and shakes the water out of his eyes to see Saoirse standing at the edge of the pool, wearing a long floral dress, completely still. He wonders how long she’s been watching him. He waves and smiles. She doesn’t move. He hauls himself out of the water and walks over to her. Then he stops, falters. She still hasn’t smiled.
Saoirse: Roy, we need to talk.