Feelings don’t last. That’s what a therapist once told me. They disappear he said. I agreed with him until yesterday when old feelings resurfaced for the first time in ten years. I was in the Cat and Cage drinking with Mark Dunne. We were catching up on old school days. Alison, his wife, came in about two hours after we arrived and she was excited. She had photographs of a friend’s hen night and was passing them to Mark and me.

I didn’t take much notice of the photographs until I took a second glance at one of them. There stood the girl who was to get married, whose name escapes me and Greta O‘Rourke. I finished my pint and asked Mark and Alison what they wanted to drink.

At the bar Tony Sullivan was nurturing his pint. He spent most of his time in the Cat and he looked like it. His face was red from the drink and his neck was full of puss and sores. I didn’t really know much about him. I usually drank in Kennedy’s and was only in the Cat to see Mark. He moved into the area after he got married. I knew he had a family once. We were around the same age but were very different people.

As the bar man pulled Mark’s pint I looked in the mirror behind the bar and I could see Alison. She was still going through the photographs and laughing. It must have been a good night. The bar man put Mark’s pint on the counter along with a glass of white wine and a Southern Comfort. I poured the dash myself.

Taking the drinks back to the table. I took one more look at Tony Sullivan. He really was looking desperate. As Alison packed the photographs away I put the drinks on the table. She started to talk about the girl’s wedding. She was getting married in Corpus Christi. She must have been local. Mark asked who the fiancé was and Alison said he was from Glasnevin and worked in the civil service. None of this meant anything to me. All I knew was Greta was a friend of the girl and looked like she was enjoying life.

I was happy for her but was also a little shook up. Of course I wished Greta the best but I suppose I missed her somewhat. I thought I had dealt with the break up, not that there was much to deal with. There seemed to be a part of me that longed for her. I don’t know if it was because she looked so happy or because she looked great.

We had a few more drinks and then, at eight, Mark told me he had to go. He was on a promise. Lucky man. I moved to the bar and ordered my last drink. I felt the urge to drink it fast as I didn’t want to become drinking buddies with Tony Sullivan. He had just let some of his pint spill on his shirt and was beginning to look even worse than he usually did.  

Walking down Drumcondra Road I dropped into Tesco to get some milk for the morning. Pippa had told me to get milk before I came home and being the dutiful boyfriend I did as I was told. I was steady on my feet. Which was good in case a neighbour saw me. Some of them like talking and I didn’t want to fuel the fire.

Pippa was already getting ready for bed when I arrived home. I put the milk in the fridge. While she was filling her fluffy, red hot water bottle. She said she was expecting me home later. I said Mark was on a promise and Pippa told me I wasn’t so I could stay up on my own. I tried to kiss her goodnight but she declined me and told me I could sleep in one of the spare rooms. It didn’t really bother me. I wasn’t finished drinking.

I went into the living room; switched on the television, took my coat off, and slowly poured myself a large glass from the extra shopping I had bought. Pippa didn’t know I had the bottle. I sat down and closed my eyes

I started dating Greta when I was twenty-one. She lived on the same footpath as me. Not the same street but the same footpath, with no breaks. It began at Na Fianna and ended at my house. I knew Greta for years. Myself and Michael Jones had robbed her bicycle when we were thirteen. She left it outside the library. I remember her mother coming down Walsh Road and giving out when Greta told her what we had done. To this day I still find it funny. She never gave out to Michael, just to me. I would say Greta fancied me from the age of twelve. It took us eight years after I robbed her bicycle before we got together.

My relationship with Greta was short, three years, but she was my first real girlfriend. She wanted to be with someone who was focused on getting married and having children. I felt I was too young. I still think that. She got her wish and married a guy and moved to Swords and has at least two children. She sent my mother a Christmas card every year until she died two years ago.

I thought a little further about Greta before I realised I was going around in circles. I was thinking about someone who I still had feelings for, that’s for sure. I put the bottle away and made my way up the stairs to the box room. As I was getting ready for bed I began thinking about Tony Sullivan. I knew he was a loser who was going nowhere. It was clear to anyone who cared to see. He was a pathetic man but you have got to have some pity for him.

I didn’t mind spending the night in the box room as much as people might think. Though this morning my first thought was of Greta. I’m not sure if I am as glad she was happy. Pippa’s not talking to me either for some reason. I must have drank more than I thought. I just hope I didn’t tell her about the photograph. I really don’t need the trouble. My head aches.

– Dermot Stripe