Chapter 2

Ian Twomey sat on his sofa, staring out the front window. It wasn’t even five in the evening and it was dark outside. He’d never realized before how much he hated November. He saw the outside light go on at his grandmother’s house next door. She’d be bringing around his tea soon.

Right on cue, there was a rap on the front door, followed by the appearance of his grandmother, carrying some foil-wrapped sandwiches. She was a small woman with sharp green eyes and a crown of dyed red hair. At her heels was Scruff, her Yorkshire terrier.

“There you are, Ian,” she said with a laugh. “What are you doing sitting in the front window? In the dark no less?” She sailed past him into the kitchen, not really expecting an answer. A moment later, she popped her head out from the kitchen. “Come on, then, I’ve got some grub for you.”

His Nana was from another era. The big dinner was eaten every afternoon while she watched the one o’clock news. Later, in the evening, there was “tea,” or what some people called supper.

Ian said nothing, just picked up his crutches and hobbled into the kitchen. He avoided looking down; he didn’t want to see his ankle and be reminded of the injury that had ended his career with the Irish Rovers, Ireland’s national rugby team.

Nana set a place for him at the table. She removed the dirty plate from his dinner earlier in the day. She went over to the bin by the back door and scraped the remnants into it.

“Nana, you don’t have to do that,” he said. What did it say about him that he couldn’t clean up after himself and that his grandmother had to do it for him?

She straightened up. “I don’t mind.” For eighty-four, she was pretty spry.

She circled back to the table and removed the tin foil from a plate and set it in front of him. There were two sandwiches: one was ham and coleslaw on white bread, the other was roast chicken, stuffing, and mayo on whole wheat. Cut into quarters.

“You didn’t have to go to all this trouble, Nana,” he said like he did with every plate she brought up.

“It’s no trouble at all,” she said with a smile. “Sure, aren’t I making a sandwich for myself?”

Ian frowned; Nana was in a better mood than usual if that was even possible. With a glance in her direction, he wondered if she’d been making the Christmas cake and nipping at the sauce.

“Did I tell you that Mary’s coming over for a visit?” Nana said, pulling up a chair across the table from Ian.

He had met Mary Mueller, Nana’s best friend from childhood, the last time she’d visited. He’d been a young boy then, maybe ten, maybe eleven. When he still had his professional rugby career ahead of him, instead of behind him.

“She’ll be here for Christmas,” Nana said. “Come on, Ian, eat up. You’re wasting away to nothing.”

More to please her than to appease any sort of an appetite, Ian picked up one of the sandwiches and took a bite. Chicken and stuffing on bread was pure comfort food, but he was beyond being comforted. He slipped a bit of the sandwich beneath the table to the dog.

“Where’s she staying?” he asked. “And how long will she be here?”

“They’re staying with me, and they’ll be here for a month,” Nana said, smiling broadly. “It’s wonderful. I’ve got so much to do before they get here.”

“They?” he asked.

“Mary’s bringing her granddaughter with her,” Nana explained.

Oh terrific, Ian thought. Another pair of gawkers to witness his plight. He’d have to endure their looks of pity or worse, stupid questions. No thanks. He would remain holed up in his house, as usual.

Bridie paused what she was doing and said, “You know, maybe you could show her around. She’s about your age.”

“That’s probably not a good idea,” he said quickly. He wasn’t playing tour guide to anyone.

But Nana continued, undaunted. “She won’t want to hang around Mary and me, she’s too young for that. That’ll be perfect.”

He didn’t bother protesting. What would be the point? His grandmother was going to do what she wanted to do. When the time came, he’d make himself scarce.

And then there was Christmas. Last Christmas, when he still had his career, seemed a lifetime ago. He wondered if he should stay at a hotel until Nana’s guests left. The thought of company and the biggest holiday of the year overwhelmed him.

“I might go away for Christmas,” he said, although he was supposed to be starting physical therapy. As soon as he returned their phone calls. He didn’t know when that would be. He was feeling inert these days.

Nana’s face crumpled. “What do you mean? Go away? But you only just got home from rehab!”

He was sorry he’d said anything.

Nana got up and walked over to the sink to fill the kettle. “You can’t go away now. I’ve been looking forward to you coming home for months.” She turned her back to him to turn on the electric kettle. Ian took the opportunity to feed the dog another quarter of a sandwich.

With her back still to him, Nana said, “And stop feeding the dog from the table.”

Ian sighed, picked up another sandwich, and said to Scruff, “Sorry, buddy.”

Nana droned on about how wonderful Christmas was going to be. When he was up in rehab outside of Dublin, she used to call him every few days to encourage him. She’d send him Mass cards from the shrine at Knock or from the Redemptorists in Limerick. She’d never met a candle she didn’t light or a prayer she didn’t say.

She sat down. “And what’s the delay with the physical therapy starting at home?”

“I canceled that appointment,” he grumbled.

Nana’s mouth fell open. “Why? This is the third time you’ve canceled. You don’t want to be on crutches for the rest of your life, do you?”

Before Ian could answer, there was a knock at the front door, followed by his sister Fiona barging through. In each hand, she carried a canvas bag filled with groceries. She was all smiles.

“Hi, Nana,” Fiona said. She held up the bags and said to Ian, “I’ve brought you some groceries.”

Ian sighed. His house was filled with two more people than he wanted.

“How’s Grace?” Nana asked Fiona of her partner.

“She’s fine, said she’ll pick you up this weekend and take you Christmas shopping if you’d like.”

“I would, thank you very much,” Nana said. When Fiona first announced she had a girlfriend, they’d all worried how Nana would take it. But she’d merely shrugged and said, “Love is love.” She and Grace got on well.

Fiona nodded at her brother. “Are you keeping that beard then?”

Ian stroked his beard. He’d started growing it in rehab, and he found he liked it. It suited his new identity as a former professional rugby player. A has-been.

“I’m thinking of it.”

Nana shook her head. “I liked your clean-shaven look much better.”

“Noted.”

As Fiona put lunch meat, cheese, and lettuce into the crisper, Nana said, “Fiona, your brother canceled his therapy appointment again.”

Fiona stopped what she was doing, a liter of milk in her hand and the door to the refrigerator wide open. “Ian! Why?”

Ian shrugged, not wanting to admit that he had no interest in doing therapy. What was the point? It wasn’t like he’d be able to play rugby again. And as he had no plans to ever leave the house, the crutches were enough.

The kettle clicked off, signaling it had boiled. “Anyone want tea?” Fiona asked.

“Are you staying that long?” Ian asked.

“We’ll both have a cup,” Nana said, ignoring him.

“Ian,” Fiona said in her best older-sister voice. She was one of three older sisters, and they’d been telling Ian what to do for as long as he could remember.

Nana’s lips had pressed into a thin line, and she was shaking her head. “What’s to be done with you, Ian?”

“Nothing, Nana.”

Once Fiona had the groceries put away and the tea made, she sat down with Ian and their grandmother. He was dismayed to see Fiona had made herself a sandwich. That meant she’d be there longer. He was almost tempted to tell her to take the sandwich to go.

“Mum had a call from Donal last night,” Fiona started.

Ian rolled his eyes. His mother had texted him about it earlier that day. He’d yet to respond.

This was the purpose of Fiona’s visit. She’d been sent on a mission by their parents, who spent their winters in Spain. Donal was one of his teammates and his best friend. Ian did not say anything, because he knew Fiona would have her say with no prompting from him.

“How is he doing?” Nana asked. “We never see him around anymore.”

“That’s because Ian is not answering his phone or his door.”

“Oh, Ian,” Nana said, disappointment clear in her voice. She sipped her tea.

“I told Mum to tell Donal not to bother ringing on the phone, to just come over, knock, and walk in. He wants to see you,” Fiona said, taking a bite of her sandwich.

Ian seethed. They were trying to run his life. Why couldn’t they just leave him alone?

“Okay, little brother, you’ve got to move on with your life. Yes, what happened is awful. But you’re still young, and you can’t hide out in your house forever,” Fiona said.

Ian felt the hair stand up on the back of his neck. He bit his tongue so as not to respond and say something hurtful.

Nana told Fiona about Mary and her granddaughter coming over.

“Oh, that’s wonderful,” Fiona said. “How old is the granddaughter?”

“About Ian’s age.”

“Now, that is interesting,” Fiona said.