I’m not usually one of those, what I like to call Flat White Wankers, but that’s what I’m drinking this morning, sitting outside the Happy Out Café on the seafront in Dún Laoghaire, while going over my reading for, I don’t know, Sunday service tomorrow. Alice – the reverend, vicar, whatever we’re agreeing to call her – WhatsApped me the full script last night. And, as usual, I’m struggling to read it without speaking the words out loud.
I’m sitting there giving it, “In Him we have redemption through His blood, the forgiveness and complete pordon of our sins, in accordance with the riches of His grace, which He lavished on us,” and it’s all good stuff.
That’s when Christian arrives on the scene with Ross jnr – my godson – and Oliver, his youngest. The first thing I notice is that they’re wearing matching Dryrobes, but I somehow manage not to mention how focking ridiculous they all look. The dude is my best friend after all.
I’m there, “Have you been swimming?”
Sorcha is standing at the island with a boning knife in one hand and an espresso in the other, grinning at us like a serial killer
The old dear goes, ‘I don’t want my vital work on the campaign Move Funderland to the Northside to die with me’
‘I remember Past Ross thinking, you need to stort being nicer to Future Ross. He’s a genuinely good bloke’
‘Sorcha, I’m wondering is climate justice maybe a bit above Santa’s pay grade?’
“Sea swimming,” Christian goes, actually correcting me.
And I’m like, “Yeah, same deal, Dude.”
He’s there, “What about you? Are you writing down your thoughts on the second South Africa Test?” because – yeah, no – I have my Rugby Tactics Book on the table in front of me – as per always.
I’m there, “One or two ideas. But I’m also practising this,” and I show him my phone. “I’m reading the Epistle tomorrow. It’s from St Paul to – randomly – the Ephesians? I googled them and it all checks out.”
You can probably imagine how this goes down. His jaw is on the basically floor.
He goes, “Are you doing this to get the boys into St Adomnán’s?”
And I’m there, “I said I’d do whatever it takes and I will. I’ll tell you something else, Dude – I’m a big, big hit with these people.”
He’s like, “What people? Protestant people?”
“They’re not that much different from us,” I go. “I mean – yeah, no – they’re definitely less craic, but they get shit done.”
He shakes his head and he’s like, “You’re unbelievable,” and for once I can tell that it’s not intended as a compliment.
I go, “What’s with the matching Dryrobes?” because I decide that I should say something after all. “You look focking ridiculous, the three of you.”
It sounds horsh, I know, but I’ve heard about cases like this, where a divorce doesn’t work out – my old pair being a prime example
He looks at Ross jnr and Oliver and he goes, “Goys, do you want to go and order something?” and he gives them his plastic.
It’s obvious that he wants to talk to me about something in private.
When they’ve gone, he goes, “I was hoping to have a word with you about something.”
I’m like, “Oh, yeah? What’s up?”
He’s there, “Lauren asked me a little while back how I’d feel about, you know, getting back together.”
I go, “Lauren? As in, like, your ex-wife Lauren?”
“Yes, Ross, that Lauren.”
“I hope you told her to fock off.”
“Excuse me?”
It sounds horsh, I know, but I’ve heard about cases like this, where a divorce doesn’t work out – my old pair being a prime example.
I’m there, “The thing about divorce is, you have to really work hord at it.”
He goes, “Look, I understand your concerns.”
I’m there, “Have you forgotten what she did to you?”
He’s like, “Yes, Ross, I have forgotten what she did to me, because that all happened years ago. Did St Paul have anything to say to the Ephesians about forgiveness?”
I’m there, “It possibly gets a mench later on. I haven’t got to the end yet.”
“Look, I’m accepting that our break-up wasn’t great.”
“Dude, your marriage wasn’t great either, can I just remind you? She made you get rid of all your Stor Wars toys.”
“We had a second child on the way. We needed the spare room.”
“That’s easy to say now, but I remember the tears in your eyes when we drove them to the charity shop.”
“I got over it.”
“You also stopped going to Kielys of Donnybrook every Friday night.”
“I was married with children.”
“I was married with children, but it didn’t stop me.”
“No, it didn’t, Ross.”
I’m there, “Your problem was that you let her boss you around,” because I’m dropping truth bombs now.
He goes, “Yes, she has very firm ideas about how things should be done.”
I’m there, “Plus, she has zero interest in rugby.”
“And, what, that makes her a bad person?” he tries to go.
“I’m just saying it’s port of a pattern of behaviour. Zero interest in rugby and no time for the Rossmeister.”
“Well, she blames you for the failure of our marriage.”
“Me? The fock did I do?”
“Ringing me every Friday night from Kielys of Donnybrook to tell me that I was wasting my life.”
“She was never a fan of mine even before that. Do you remember the time I gave Ross jnr two grand in cash for his fifth birthday and she had a total shit-fit?”
“She didn’t want him to grow up with no appreciation for the value of money.”
“Yeah, good luck with that, living in Ranelagh.”
I notice that Lauren is wearing the exact same Dryrobe as the other three. And I know in that moment that this ship has well and truly sailed
We’re actually, like, shouting at this point?
I’m like, “Dude, she cheated on you.”
He goes, “We both made mistakes in our marriage.”
I’m there, “Only one of you was on Tinder.”
I actually swiped right without looking at the name. She did the same. That was one seriously awkward date.
He goes, “I was drinking in those days. I don’t blame her for seeking happiness outside our marriage. But I’m sober, what, four years now?”
I’m there, “Dude, trust me, if you get back with Lauren, it will be the biggest mistake you ever make.”
I’m suddenly aware of someone standing just outside my line of vision, staring hord at me. I don’t have to look to know who it is – but I do anyway?
She goes, “Talking about me, Ross?” and she’s standing there with Ross jnr and Oliver.
Christian’s there, “I wasn’t telling you because I wanted your opinion, Ross.”
I notice that Lauren is wearing the exact same Dryrobe as the other three. And I know in that moment that this ship has well and truly sailed.
“On the other hand,” I go, toasting them with my flat white, “I’m delighted for you.”
