I was out for a run with granny and granddad's fox coloured dog. It was a blazing summer day. We ran down the side of the school and could see some lads playing football on the patch of grass across the street. They were always there when it was sunny. As we ran past the ball skidded in front of us and bounced off the wall. I later found out they did this whenever a pretty girl went past. It got her attention and adolescent boys don't really know any other way to engage women.
I scooped the ball up and tossed it towards the dog. He leapt up excitedly and bounced it on his nose a couple of times. The lads whooped. I felt hot with self consciousness knowing they were looking my way. I loved and hated this kind of scrutiny.
The ball rolled back towards me and I tapped it in the direction of the nearest player, a sweaty looking read head in Adidas everything. As I looked up my eyes landed on a dark haired pale skinned boy. He was looking languidly towards me. Our eyes met for the briefest moment and I felt a jolt. Something important was happening. I felt scared but at home.
I staggered into a run again, looking back over my shoulder at the dark haired boy. He was standing near the goalposts, eyes fixed on the ball. It sounds like such a cliche but my heart was beating double time and my blood was hot in my veins. Who was that boy?
The internet was pretty new at this point. I was only seventeen. I had left Edinburgh for the summer to stay with my grandparent's until I started an English Lit course at university in Manchester in the autumn. It was my last summer of freedom, but I still had to get a job and earn some money. My Baba was a paediatrician so we weren't exactly poor but he taught me to work for everything I have and I had to contribute too and earn my spending money.
Cork is a lovely place. Smaller than Edinburgh but with bags of attitude and personality. My grandparents are folk musicians who made a living playing pubs and weddings and the like. My granddad was also a very successful hurler in his youth. Hurling is a sport somewhere between hockey and war. Granddad had a big red beard back in the day and was a raging barbarian on the pitch. He's always been loving and kind to me but I love seeing flashes of that barbarian spirit now that he's old and grey.
My mum isn't around any more. It has just been me and Baba at home for a long time, since I was eleven. Mum was catholic and Baba was raised muslim. Baba was never really observant, it was mostly a cultural thing. Mum was pretty religious when they met and her faith only increased over the years. She lived for the church and was never away from the fucking place. Her family definitely came second to Jesus. It was still utterly devastating to me the day I came home from school and she had left. She didn't say goodbye. I got in the door and something was different. I could feel a change in the atmosphere.
My mum had abandoned me for the church.
I don't know where she is now. I don't want to know.
Baba worked so many hours at the hospital I was alone a lot after that. I was never the most popular kid at school and was very focused on my gymnastics and ballet training. Baba was insistent that if I wanted to keep up my hobbies I had to keep getting straight A's in all my subjects as school work would always be most important. I would go to school, go to training, do my homework, eat, and fall into bed. I never had time for anything else, certainly not a social life.
That night I casually asked my cousin Brendan if he knew the lads who played football in the park by the school. Brendan and I were the same age, only a few months apart. He was a rugby player. His mum was my auntie Saoirse. His dad was a Maltese ships captain from the many boats that dock in Cork. He had his dad's olive skin and dark eyes.
Brendan teased me a bit, seeing through my attempt to be casual. He said they might play for one of the local lads clubs. I tried to describe the boy I meant but dark hair and fair skin, slim build could be just about anyone. Brendan shrugged and went back to watching the tv.
Next day was sunny again so me and the dog hit the road. My heart was in my mouth as we ran across the car park in front of the school. We turned down the side and I could vaguely make out some figures. My heart started hammering so hard I wanted to turn back. I was determined to look cool so I kept going in measured, even strides. A bunch of lads in their late teens were racing enthusiastically after a well battered football on the sun bleached grass.
I was halfway down the pitch when again the ball skidded in front of me and I heard a few cat calls.
I went to fetch the ball, physically shaking. I bent to pick it up fearing I would drop it. I stood up, ball in hand. I turned to the pitch and saw him standing about ten feet away from me. I did not expect him to be so close and I was not at all prepared.
I audibly gasped. He reached out his right hand, gesturing for me to throw the ball. Coming back to my senses, I threw the ball straight at him, turned on my heel and ran away.
That wasn't how I had planned it in my head.
I had to find out who he was.
Baba worked such long hours and didn't get a lot of holiday time. Every school holidays mum and I would always head straight for the ferry at Leith docks and go to Cork. We spent summers, easter and christmas there every year. Sometimes Baba was able to come but mostly it was just the two of us. Since I was eleven I hadn't always been able to go. Mum wasn't around any longer. I was almost eighteen now, I'd done everything Baba had every asked of me and more. I was going to spend three months in Cork and they were delighted to have me.
I think my grandparents felt ashamed of my mum. Of course they did. Who abandons their kid like that? I wasn't a difficult kid. I amused myself mostly. I was pretty well behaved and did well in school. Most parents would have been pretty happy to have me. They felt like they had to make it up to me on Mum's behalf, or to make up for their sense of disappointment. They tried to fill in the parenting gaps she left behind.
It was only a few weeks until my eighteenth birthday. I had led quite a sheltered upbringing. My dad was raised in India and whilst he was a lot more liberal than many Asian parents, he was still quite straight laced. I had never been in a pub or nightclub before. I grilled Brendan about the local bars and clubs. I told him I was thinking about bar work for the summer. He told me there were a lot of old mans pubs and places a young girl should avoid but there were a few places a young lad would probably end up on a Saturday night.
I've always had quite a casual style. I'm not one for lots of makeup and acrylic nails - not that those were a thing back then. I put on a pair of cut off denim short and a white vest top. A pretty classic look I thought. A few necklaces on top for a bit of character. I toyed with the idea of Chucks, but a lot of places might see those as trainers and might not let me in. I opted for some gold summery sandals I bought from a market stall. I wore my long black hair loose. A little eyeliner and lip balm and I was happy with my appearance. I grabbed my khaki cotton jacket and shouted, 'I'm off out, see you later!' to my grandparents as I was already closing the front door after me.
I hopped on a bus into town and asked myself repeatedly what I was doing. My legs were shaking a little. I had my eyes fixed on every dark haired young male I saw, hoping it was him.
It was about 9pm and people were milling around, calling to each other, Saturday night outfits being paraded through town. I got caught up in a swell of bodyspray and lads in button down shirts. I let myself be jostled into what turned out to be a busy sports bar. The decor was mostly orange and the music was loud. It was a tacky place and I didn't like it at all. It would be impossible to have a conversation here. I wove through people, trying to look like I was just heading to where my friends were sitting. I did an awkward circuit of the place and couldn't see him. I tried another and was starting to feel horribly self conscious. I could see a man with pale red hair and a blue polo shirt looking directly at me. He could sense I was alone. He started to stand up and I knew I had to get away. I made it to the door just as he was confidently heading towards me. I threw all my weight into pulling it open and slid out into the silky cool air of the summer night.