Page 37 of Beautiful Losers

‘What’s that?’

Leonard is holding out his palm. ‘The candle,’ he says in a stage whisper.

‘Oh right. Sorry.’ I hand Leonard the white tapered candle I was instructed to bring along. Leonard lights it and says,‘God saw that the light was good.’ (I guess we’ve reached the Christian part of this multi-faith ceremony.)

‘Sorry I’m late.’ Jack is walking briskly towards us, tucking his shirt into his trousers, his hair endearingly messy. ‘Work call I couldn’t get out of.’ He smiles at Ari with a warmth that makes my heart somersault.

I wasn’t expecting Jack to join us. He doesn’t seem like the sort to stand in a circle and sing ‘Kumbaya’ over the loss of a toy mass-produced in a Taiwanese factory. (Although, are any of us really – Leonard excluded – the sort?)

‘Just in time, my man,’ says Leonard, joining his hands in prayer and giving Jack a little bow. ‘We’re about to let it all out.’

‘Let what out?’ says Jack cautiously.

‘The pain we’ve been holding onto.’

‘The pain at … losing Margaret?’ Jack looks slightly terrified.

‘Margaret, a lover, a job, anyone or anything that ever meant something to you. We’re going to unleash it all. The hurt, the rage. We’re going to scream from the bowels of our being.’

‘I have dyspepsia. You do not want me screaming from my bowels,’ says Sabrina, who, it would appear, has been a fluent English speaker this whole time.

‘Come on, you’ll feel amazing afterwards. Watch me,’ instructs Leonard.

He stretches his arms towards the sky and lets out a guttural roar, his whole body vibrating with energy.

‘Man, that felt good. Who else wants to give it a try? Ari?’

‘Waaaaaaaaah,’ squeals Ari, bursting into peals of laughter.

‘Now that’s what I’m talking about. Put it there, little guy,’ Leonard says, extending his fist. ‘Who’s next?’

‘Et puis merde,’ shouts Myriam, cupping her hands over her mouth and howling into the wind. ‘You are right,’ she says, with an air of satisfaction. ‘I do feel better.’

‘Alright!’ cries Leonard, beaming. ‘Jack? Fiadh? Care to unleash that pain?’

‘I’m not holding onto any pain,’ says Jack, looking like he’d like to crawl into the hole in the ground that Leonard has dug for the spirit of Margaret.

I snort reflexively.

‘What?’ says Jack.

‘Nothing.’

‘No, please go on. You obviously have something to say.’

‘It’s just, I mean, clearly you have some pain.’

‘Why do you say that?’

‘Ummm, you could end up losing your job. And you’re always getting death threats on social media. And your wife has left you and might be moving to America with your son.’

I hadn’t intended on giving Jack a running tally of his recent misfortunes and immediately regret opening my mouth.

‘Alright, Murphy. What about you?’

‘Me?’

‘Any pain you’d care to unleash?’

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