Page 43 of Calling Frank O'Hare

‘Sure you are. I think the fog’s lifted now. Let’s make a move. Renegade and Rebel arrived after you left. It was like an oddball convention before we went out to look for you.’

He helped Frank stand and they limped along the pathway, stopping only to pick up some markers that he’d set down at different points, like a modern day equivalent of Hansel and Gretel’s trail.

They managed to struggle back to the van. Rebel was the only one there. The others were still out searching. Frank was annoyed with himself for causing such a fuss, and also because he was now being eased down into a chair like some ancient ould fecker who was on his last legs, whereas Martin appeared to have turned into a latter-day Davy Crockett. He set off to retrieve the other two, leaving Rebel to tend to Frank’s wounded ego.

‘You look like a man who enjoys a good coffee, Frank. I have a very rich Colombian roast, if you’re interested.’

Frank pushed his ego aside. ‘You’re correct in your assumption and right now, that Colombian roast sounds like heaven. Thank you.’ He watched Rebel expertly make the coffee on his stove top. ‘You’ve got everything you need in there.’

‘I want for nothing, except the occasional bit of company.’

‘How long have you been doing this?’

‘About eight years, except for the dreaded Covid period. I spend the winter either at home or in sunnier climes. It’s a good life.’

‘Sounds it.’

‘Not for you though?’

‘I’m not sure I’m cut out for it. I’m comfortable where I am.’ He’d said that word comfortable again. It was true, he was comfortable with his lot, but right now it didn’t sound quite so palatable. ‘I’m in a relationship, and I have my work.’

‘I see. What do you do?’

‘I’m an artist. I also teach English to college students, part time.’ He surprised himself with his answer. Normally, he told people he was a teacher who did art as a sideline.

‘Wonderful. I appreciate art immensely, but I’m a terrible artist. And teaching? Such a worthy profession.’

‘I don’t know about worthy. It’s something I fell into. I met a woman recently who told me I’d taught her over fifteen years ago. Fifteen years. It makes you think.’ The fact that the woman no longer thought he was “quite hot” was also making him think, but his preference was not to share those thoughts.

‘It does. How’s the coffee?’

Frank took a sip. ‘Pretty damn good. You don’t miss your old life?’

‘Not one bit. Like you, the law was something I fell into. I quite enjoyed it for a long time, but then I got to a point when I realised I’d grown to detest it. It took a while for me to get there, mind you. It sort of creeps up on you. Ah, the wanderers have returned.’

Finn had Frank’s back righted in no time.

‘Where the hell did you learn to do that?’ asked Frank.

Finn tapped his nose. ‘That would be telling.’

‘Our Yoda’s a man of much knowledge and many talents,’ said Renegade.

Finn’s neck went a shade darker. ‘Ah come on now guys, stop bigging me up. These two know I’m just a waster at heart. Frank’s the intellectual around here, and Martin’s got more talent in his little finger than I could ever have.’

‘That’s rubbish. I got lucky and made a few quid in property, and just because Frank’s been to university doesn’t make him any better than you. And you’re no waster. Isn’t that right, Frank?’ Martin’s eyebrows twitched upwards as he turned to Frank.

‘Sure. Who wasn’t a bit wild when we were younger? But look at you now, Finn. You’ve done so much, despite a terrible loss, and your life has so much meaning.’ Frank was going to add against all indications to the contrary, but that would have spoiled the moment. Besides, Finn was welling up and it was triggering a rare flash of insight. Could it be that Finn had always thought himself inferior? Frank couldn’t help thinking the answer was probably yes. With that came the possibility that the reason for Finn’s excessive lifestyle might have been down to his need to impress their little gang. And whether he wanted to or not, Frank was forced to face the fact that he had indeed thought Finn was inferior. And because of that, he had to bear some of the responsibility for Finn’s years of debauchery.

Renegade broke his train of thought. ‘Here’s a proposal for you. It’s too late to set off for another camp now, so why don’t we pool our resources and have ourselves a party?’

‘Top idea. What d’you say, FB?’ said Finn.

Frank smiled. ‘I can’t think of anything else I’d rather do.’

28

A little lie and a lot of guilt

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