Hi! It’s been a while since we’ve spoke, even longer since I've emailed someone, haha. I got a phone recently, or rather a friend gave me a phone. A lot’s happened over the past couple of years, I’m trying to keep with your workout routine, I actually increased the weight a bit. Anyway, I’m going to be in Belfast for a couple days, so I thought I'd ask if you wanted to
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Hey, I know we didn’t leave things on good terms, and I know I'm responsible for what happened, but I’ve done a lot to change myself. I started working out again, bet I can finally beat you in an arm wrestle, haha.
I guess I feel a guilty. I don’t want you to forgive me, I just want the chance to say I'm sorry. Maybe we weren’t good enough friends for me to type this crap out, but you were my friend, and if at all possible, I want to see you again.
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I’m sorry. I know it’s three years too late, but I want to make things up to you. I just want to try, and I want to see your doing good. I’m in Belfast for a while. Email me if you get this, a time and place, or even a fuck off. I’d prefer to say sorry face to face.
I’m sure you’d like to punch me in the face.
I wouldn’t advise it though.
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I crashed down onto the pillows lying on the sofa, my brain short circuiting. I had just spent eight hours doing nothing but typing when I should have been sleeping, or eating, not that going without either would kill me anymore.
Thinking about it, I don’t even know if I need to sleep anymore. My body should be fine, but I still get tired. It must be because my power is reliant on body, so it can’t do anything for my mind. Unless you count what, I've been told about the whole analysis feature I apparently have.
The one that’s complicated this whole situation. Things could have played out a lot simpler if Schism had never sent me that letter, the fact that I was being backed by the guy with the largest kill-count didn’t do much for my conscience.
Then there was the fact that the same man was concerned about my enemy's ability. It was ‘illegal’ by his decree, so I'm guessing that’s got something to do with his weakness.
I’m not a total idiot. I’m totally terrified of having my head split apart, it’s just, he has to have more limitations than his own morals or else he wouldn’t have any enemies.
I really couldn’t help but theorise, that was the part of me he had wanted to make use of, so he can’t exactly fault me for having thoughts concerning all that.
There was the weakness that he’d told me, that his ‘omniscience’ was limited to the thought of other creatures. I say creatures, because he was supposedly able to annihilate alien organisms, disregarding the fact that their brain chemistry should be, well, completely alien to his own. Unless there was a universal bases, like the creatures he splits need to be sentient, that they need to clear some sort of hurdle to possess the mind archetype.
There was also the fact that Axle had been allowed to become successful. If Schism couldn’t read the minds of Axle’s AIs then he wouldn’t allow for them to be produced, they’d be too large a threat. Or maybe Axel’s under the same restrictions as me, that if he ever seriously considers going after Schism, proves himself to be an enemy, then Schism will take care of him before he can get to work programming a mindless drone to find him.
Either way, the robots he makes can’t be programmed to kill Schism. But if there were some sort of grey area between sentience and free will, between an automaton and a person, then that could very well kill Schism.
Of course, it’d have to get to China, find Schism, get past the military or whatever else Schism has as a precautionary measure, then find a way to sneak up on the man who can destroy anything he’s aware of.
If Schism’s been at this awhile, then I'm sure he’s come across that possibility.
The weakness that I had thought of was jelly.
Seriously, think about it, how could he destroy a mindless slime by tearing it apart. He’d have to tear that thing apart by the atom.
At least, that’s what my limited understanding of his ability suggests.
A more serious threat to him could be ghosts, I guess. They human soul is imperceptible to people without spiritual senses, at least that’s what Ae had said. To be fair, the only ghost I've seen seemed to be pretty mindless, and it was at least partially perceptible to someone like me who can’t see souls. Whether or not Schism can kill something like that I don’t know.
Of course, none of this would help me if I were to, hypothetically, pick a fight with him.
He’s overseen every thought I've had on the matter. And a lot of other stuff I'd prefer nobody but me know.
The fact that he’s so creepy is just a little overshadowed by the cosmic dread he instilled.
Regardless, the fact that I'm still alive implies that he doesn’t have a problem with me thinking these thoughts. If he does, well then, he should have included something about that in the letter, shouldn’t he?
As I was trying to get just a couple minutes sleep, the late-night thought crossed my mind.
What if he double crosses me? By that I mean, as soon as I find out what Belfast’s ability is, what’s honestly stopping him from killing me and Belfast to keep whatever he’s so afraid of secret?
I forgot about trying to get to sleep and started agonising over a possible reason he might have for not doing that.
There was a chance he’d see it was pointless, that I wasn’t going to tell anybody else, and unless I had any intention of acting on the info, (an intention that if I held in any capacity, would lead to him murdering me anyway,) there was nothing I could actually do with it.
I had spent time thinking of that reasoning to reassure myself, but what really reassured me was the fact that I had thought of it, meaning that he would ‘hear’.
Stop me if I'm getting confusing, because at nine in the morning, I was starting to lose interest in omni-whatever and mind reading, and he-knows-I-know-he-knows-I-know.
I just wanted to see Saoirse.
So I went to find her. Mullet was asleep so I made the minimum effort to not wake him by keeping the lights off.
I spent a couple minutes trying to remember which room was the girls.
It had already been a full day, and I'd only spent a little more than a few minutes with her. I was dead set on riding with her too Belfast, even if I’d be sleeping most of the way. I really wanted to spend time doing something with her.
I guess I was still dressed in the same clothes I had been wearing yesterday. Not that she’d know.
I knocked on the door. While I was waiting, I half realised that the chance of them being awake was quite slim.
Then the door opened, Feoli standing in the door way.
“Sam, right?”
I nodded, “octopus lady.”
She stood there for a bit too long, “Can I come in?”
She shrugged, “I don’t see why not.”
Awkward as always, their room was much like ours, except the spare room was on the opposite side. I looked around, the place was a mess. Something spilled on the carpet, clothes pulled all over the place, and more booze than even I could stomach.
“Guess I missed the party, huh?”
She walked back to her chair seating herself in it robotically, “Yes. You the game we played where one player would say ‘never have I ever’ before saying something they’ve never done. If one of the other players had done it, they’d drink.”
“Weird. Thought that sort of thing only happened in movies.”
She flicked through channels on the tv, “That woman said the same thing. You know, that your attached to.”
Oblivious as always, too.
“She’s not my woman. That's a pretty sexist phrase,” I crossed my arms, looking away from her and out the balcony.
Izzy was out there smoking, TGFMAC was just talking to her.
“I don’t think she likes me. I don’t think I like her either. She reminds me of someone I used to know.”
I wasn’t really thinking about Feoli at the moment, “I’m sure it’s nothing,” I said, fully aware that their personalities clashed horribly, “she’s just a little peeved that somebody got invited last minute.”
Feoli found a channel she liked, “She was adamant about it last night.”
I went to curl my hair around my finger, finding nothing but my buzz cut. I rubbed around instead, “I’m sorry, she gets out of hand when she drinks, one time she claimed she was biggest meth dealer in the world.”
Feoli hung on the first thing, “If she isn’t your women, then why are you apologising for her?”
“Heh,” was about all I could manage, “ok, well, where is Saoirse anyway?”
She pointed back to the spare room.
I almost opened the door without thinking, if Saoirse was in there, then that probably meant she was still sleeping, or getting dressed.
I pulled myself away from the door, I looked back at Feoli for some sort of indication. She was watching some ancient cop show. Did I really expect the fish out of water to give me the okay to go in?
I sheepishly knocked on the door before calling out, “Sorsh, it’s me! It’s like half nine. If you're not up, you should think about getting up.”
There was no response. “Sorsh?”
Still nothing.
Idiot that I am, that made me anxious. All the stuff going on with Belfast, there was always a chance that she’d had a kind of misfire with her luck, that she’d left some kind of monkey paw loop hole, like, ‘with any luck Belfast won’t catch me on this trip.’
I was thinking that, in that scenario, as long as she was stationary, they could catch on.
I opened the door like a gust of wind.
The curtains billowed as I did so. The bedroom was about half the size of the one I was just in, white being the dominant colour, though it was broken by some art on the wall, the brown furniture, and Saoirse’s clothes strung over the place. I had a feeling she was mostly responsible for the mess in the living room.
My paranoia actually died away before I even saw laying half covered.
She had her clothes on still, it was just that the blanket was kicked about.
Well, I guessed she’d kicked her dress up a bit, but that’s not important, she was safe, I could turn around, get the hell out of there.
Then I remembered what I had in my pocket. That pen and paper. I guess I should leave this at her bedside, a note from Shamrock.
It would be very weird if I had been noticed entering the hotel last night and actually done anything.
I’d make it brief; I'd say there were no problems, that Sea-threw Gurl never showed up, and that I’d be there if things went wrong.
Not that last bit, actually, that sounds weird.
I scrawled that down quickly, covertly walking over to her table. They could be watching through that small window, or she might actually wake up. I doubted either, but better safe than sorry.
I kept my body facing her and the window, the note behind my back, quickly slipping it to the side before backing away.
I breathed a sigh of relief, glad that was all over.
Then I realised that this was very, very, creepy.
I wanted to scream, but obviously couldn’t.
What the hell was I doing hovering around her while she was sleeping? Why did my knees have to lock up now of all times?
Why was I being so weird about this?
Clover’s my friend, even if I wasn’t checking on the life-or-death mission we were currently running, what’s actually wrong with me being in here?
I guess it’s a mix of time and self-perception.
The longer I spend standing around in here the weirder it gets, obviously.
There was no reason for me to be such a mess though.
Was it just all the stuff that Mullet had said to me? The thing Feoli had just said? If I really didn’t like her that way, then I'd just laugh there comments off, because they’d have no basis.
But I got embarrassed, I got angry when those thoughts came to mind.
I’d done my best to ignore it, but there was also my perfect world in Irminsul. It was her I was with, not TGFMAC, or anyone else.
She didn’t even have the weirdly white teeth that everyone else, including myself, had.
It was her.
I still need to ask myself; how do I feel? Do I actually want to be something more than friends with her, or am I just a depraved lunatic who sneaks glances at girls while they sleep?
Holy shit, I spent a long time there with my knees knocking together, I was at least a freak in that regard.
Her phone buzzed; it was a wake-up alarm.
Her arm slapped out, carelessly setting it to snooze.
Had she been awake this whole time? At least half awake it seemed.
“S-Sorsh?” I was edging towards her now.
There was no response.
“Saoirse, do you know what time it is?” I looked at her phone, “You know it’s nine, right?”
I thought I wasn’t going to get a response as the question floated in the air.
Her arm slapped down on the phone, dragging it to her face.
“Ohf shit!”
She used all her power to set herself up right, I could see her face now. The makeup she’d put so much effort into was smeared across half her face, not to mention the pillow.
She stumbled to her feet, teetering on the balls of her feet like she was about to fall in any direction. I stumbled away from her, rather than to her. That scowl on her face would only get worse if I got in her way.
She was definitely hungover. Actually, if she was that bad, I couldn’t imagine what Mullet would be like.
“Fuck,” she emphasised, she was sort of searching the room for nothing, “Fuck!”
She left the room, bursting past me, I heard her shout from the main room, “Idiots! We’re late! Forget about breakfast, we have to go while it’s still early!”
Izzy had shouted something from the balcony, to which Saoirse replied a little louder, “Sorry for enjoying my holiday! I paid for the bed and beer, not to be lectured about when I wake up! Nine would be normal if we weren’t on holiday!”
I peeked at them from behind the door, Feoli looked at Saoirse sideways, “I got breakfast already. I thought I should go out to get it, so that the six of you could all eat from the restaurant here...”
“Oh, how thoughtful of you,” Sorsh rolled her eyes.
“No, it was only common sense. I thought you might like to-” Before Feoli could finish, Saoirse stooped down and picked up a shoe, “I will throw this at you if you don’t shut up, and get packing.”
She would throw a shoe. She was in the mood. That’s why I was behind the door.
Saoirse came back into the bedroom, picking up whatever she could, before trying to stuff it into her suitcase. It wasn’t going to fit like that, I had to step in if she was going to get anywhere.
I came up behind her, tapping her on the side, “I’ll sort this out, you get back to organising-”
“I’m fine!”
She looked up at me, and I must’ve looked at her some way, because she calmed herself down.
“Sorry. Crap, it’s just- I can sort things out here, you should get some food- Did you even have anything last night?”
I laughed, the feelings I'd had a couple seconds ago was still fresh in my mind, but it was more than self-conscious nature that had frozen me. I had to think of a new lie, one that coincided with where Sam was seen last night.
“I went sight-seeing, ended up in the park across the road,” that came naturally enough, “there was a food truck, they did fish and chips.”
“Wow, that’s adventurous. Fish from the east any different than the fish back home?” The idle conversation got her to loosen up, enough for me to take the clothes from her hands and get to work on packing.
“No. Fish is fish.”
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She laughed softly, like the person capable of clobbering the nearest person with her shoe was someone else entirely, “Fish ish fish?”
I hung my head getting to work. She came and went bringing more clothes for me to pack, occasionally raising her blood pressure to berate the others who, in words, were doing jack to get us out of the hotel in time to get wherever she was planning on going.
It gave me time. She came back in, I built up as much courage as I could, “So... I know it’s pretty early in the morning to be asking something from you, but- can I drive to Derry with you?”
She did even look at me, “Sure. I’d get sick of that gypsy girl if I was stuck in a car with her for five hours.”
I didn’t want to seem like I was running away from Adonis’ group, so I straightened out, “It’s just that I haven’t seen you this whole time, and I want to sort of... make things up to you.”
That made her look at me, “What have you done wrong? Out of everyone here, you’ve been the nicest. You carried Izzy’s bags even though she was being bitchy, you’ve put up with Mullet pretty well, and you sorted out dinner.”
I tried to deny it, “That’s nothing special, and you’re the one who paid for-”
She nodded her head, “I’m the one who’s been on edge. I’ve done nothing but fight with everybody. I slept in, I couldn’t get you a meal better than fish and chips, and I couldn’t even-”
I started to sweat, “Woah, you’ve already bought us all a holiday! You shouldn’t go looking to solve every problem.”
She looked at me like I was missing some sort of irony, “I can’t leave you to carry all the bags. That’s not right, Sam.”
I smiled froggishly, “Yeah, you can. It’s alright with me.”
That seemed to make her sad.
Then, like she always does, she swung the mood around, “You stupid country boy.”
I laughed because I'd never been described as a country boy, mostly because I've never met anyone who wasn’t from the country.
She grabbed me by the arm, in the same way I'd done last night, “We’ve got a couple more places before we get to London-Derry. Not just Belfast, but I've got another surprise for you-”
I don’t know if I can say I was calm in that moment, I just couldn’t feel my heart beat. I felt complete comfort, like I could fall without fear of injury. I guess that’s what people’d call a safety net. It’s not exactly something I’ve had, either metaphorically or literally, but now I felt like I'd been provided with one I needed.
Saoirse’s eyes drifted off to my left, towards the door.
I turned around to see Feoli standing in the door way with a doggy bag, “Izzy told me to tell you that she thinks that you are also a bitch.”
Saoirse walked up to the girl, “I’d say that makes the three of us, but you're just unsettling. How long have you been standing there Feoli?”
She shrugged, “Who knows. I didn’t want to interrupt you two...”
Saoirse pulled the doggy bag open taking whatever was in it out and eating it rather slobbishly. Feoli looked pretty sad, as Saoirse ordered, “Go get the guys, we’re going to the park,” she spoke with her mouth full.
Feoli left, and we were alone again.
Saoirse turned back to me, “See what I mean? These people make you look normal, right?”
I understood where Clover had come from. A part of her had probably been searching for people who made her feel normal.
“Maybe we’re all normal. Maybe shouting and shooting ugly looks is as normal as laughing along with everyone.”
She showed me a look that reminded me of home, “God you love to bull shit, don’t you?”
I started to zip one of the compartments of the suit case, “Yeah. It’s a gift of mine.”
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Finally, we were on the road again, by this point we had been for nearly an hour, and I still had no clue where we were going. All I knew was that Izzy had almost let it slip a couple times- in a way that a person with some geography knowledge could figure out what she was talking about. Of course, that’s not me.
I’d been in Mullet’s car before; it had been a rundown little thing with just enough space for five people, mold had been growing in a corner, parts of it were browning, and there was no ventilation.
All of that had only worsened from then till now. His own rubbish had been scattered about the back and front, with a suspicious cleanliness to Izzy’s space in the front passenger’s seat. The fabric was peeling from the seats, and the air was rich with a hot dead smell. Like something had curled up and died in the floor. The summer heat didn’t help any of us.
I didn’t want to be annoying so I only asked the question sparingly: “Are we there yet?”
Even though I was keeping it to a minimum, Izzy still didn’t like it, “Saoirse, are you going to get him to stop any time soon?”
Saoirse didn’t reply, she fluttered her eyes and asked our moody driver, “Mullet, can you get your girlfriend to be a little less of a downer? We’re back on the road! Though now that I think about it, Sam, you need to enjoy the journey. It doesn’t matter when we get there, just that were going!”
I squinted at her.
“Oh yeah, miss heiress, let me just get all cheery and happy without even a sip of coffee to wake me up. You realise it’s still morning right? Like this couldn’t have waited two hours?”
Mullet hadn’t taken it well, neither had Adonis though he could at least put on a happy face.
Izzy lectured him, “No Bon, we couldn’t have waited. The line’d get too long, and we wouldn’t be able to get-”
Saoirse Said the word “Ahem,” with a fist in front of her face.
Izzy just rolled her eyes, “aye, yeah, a surprise, whatever, what’s it matter if he knows five seconds from now, or right now?”
They argued for couple more seconds while me and Mullet sat in silence.
“Oh look,” he said dumbly, “We’re at Tayto Park.”
Everybody but me turned to look at the idiot.
“Five seconds Mull,” said Izzy, switching sides.
Mullet replied, “What difference does it make whether he sees it himself?” As he said that, Europe's largest wooden roller coaster came into view, reaching around 100 feet into the sky at its peak. The thing was made entirely of wood, and to compensate for the weight and force of the roller coaster, there were hundreds and thousands of supports built beneath the tracks.
It was a plain light brown all over, the only colour I could see to it was the flags mounted on top of it, those of the European nations in the EU. I guess the park relied on the whole largest on the continent to draw in customers.
It was called the cu chulainn coaster. And I was one of the suckers that had bought into that most (something) in the world crap.
I leaned over Saoirse so I could see out the window, “We’re going here? Seriously? Won’t the lines be super long?”
I was in some disbelief. Going to Tayto Park had always been a faraway dream for me, right up there with having a lot of friends and for superheroes to be real, and yet here I was. At Ireland’s real natural wonder.
The corner stone of the potato industry.
We got parked before meeting up with the others at the entrance, and before we could pay for the tickets, Saoirse asked me, “Can you cover your eyes? The last thing we need is ofr you to throw up on an empty stomach.”
Begrudgingly, I turned my head away as they bought the tickets. Out of respect, I didn’t just look up the prices later on, who knows how much it actually cost for seven people? It’s too bad we couldn’t even get some sort of family discount, I’m sure some of us were seventeen still, you think they’d count that as a child?
Well, there was no point arguing with either the workers or Saoirse, I decided to take her words to heart, to just try and have fun. I hoped that we could just do that.
“Hell, that cost a lot of money, thank God we’ve got two piggy banks with us, huh? Still, guess we can’t pay our way to the front of the lines... Sort of a waste, right? Like wasn’t there a rollercoaster in Ballybunion. We should’ve gone there.”
Mullet was really killing the mood.
Everybody fell silent, stopping suddenly without him noticing.
“This is going to sound pretty cruel, but...” Saoirse was approaching the subject with a little tact-
“Fuck’em, let’s just shove him in line for the roller coaster, yeah?” Izzy was brutal.
“Really,” TGFMAC turned her head, “you're going to ditch him? Thought you might want to keep him on a tighter leash.”
Adonis nodded, “Somebody’s going to have to sit in line, or else we’ll be here all day. There’s also the fact that none of us have eaten, so we should get something from the café.”
Izzy was happy enough, “Right, and I'll bring ‘em a packet of crisps later.”
I was shocked at how easily they decided on that, “Couldn’t we take turns waiting? That would mean everybody could get around the park.”
Mullet finally noticed that we weren’t following him, so he turned around, shouting “Hey, come on, one of us will have to get into line, right? Sam, play rock paper scissors with Adonis, loser has to stand there for the next couple of hours...” He turned to look at a red headed woman who was walking past with her boyfriend.
All concern for him fell away.
“Mullet,” I started, but I realised he wasn’t going to take it seriously if it was coming from me.
Everyone stared at him. Nobody wanted to be the one to tell him, because then he’d go off on them.
“You are going to wait in line for us,” Feoli finally said.
Mullet’s face lit up, suddenly becoming animated to placate how he must’ve felt about the idea, “Sorry? Wasn’t this Saoirse’s idea? Wasn’t Sam the one who gave her the idea?”
Saoirse made the defence, “I paid, Sam missed out on dinner last night so you could get in.”
Mullet made his attack, “Right, then, Feoli or Izzy, one of you should stay, you're on the same boat as me.”
I could see that no matter what, Mullet wasn’t going to give in. I realised we’d have to let him down a little softer.
“Listen, just stand in line for twenty minutes, then one of us will switch with you. Feoli should have opened with that.”
The others sort of looked at me like I was moving backwards, so I had to quickly clarify, “I’ll switch with you first.”
Saoirse tried to stop me, so I took a risk by shooting her a dumb look.
I turned back to Mullet. There was a good chance that he’d seen through my plan, that he’d realise I was lying and had no intention of checking up on him.
He narrowed his eyes, searching for my lie. He knew the type of person I was, he just had to realise I was doing it now, he just had to look past my calm smile.
“Fine,” he straightened his back, “I’ll wait for you to show up. Don’t lose track of time.” With that he waltzed into the crowd and disappeared.
Adonis said to me, “That’s pretty big of you, but you shouldn’t bend the knee so easily.”
I looked up to him, I'd sort of expected everybody on my side to see through my façade.
I turned to him innocently, “Like I'm going to stand in line for the next hour to satisfy him.”
A sour feeling started to creep up, like I'd crossed some invisible line.
Ignoring it, I went to inspect the map for the park. Saoirse was the only one who followed after me.
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“Look look look! Monkeys! Holy shit! Holy fucking shit! Look at that thing!”
It was my first time being at a zoo, despite the fact I'd seen exotic animals before.
Ancient foxes, and giant porcupines aren’t really the same as a little human covered in fur with a round red ass though.
I’m guessing it had something to do with the rush of adrenaline and unnatural appearance of those monsters, that’s why a part of me was so much more excited to see some animal doing literally nothing but sit in its cage.
“Jesus Christ, quiet down Sam, there are kids here,” Saoirse hissed.
“What?” I hadn’t even realised I was using profanity, “Oh, yeah, sorry.” I scratched at my head, stepping away from the green fence that blocked the monkeys away from us. “Sorry...”
Saoirse had her hands on her hips, “Really, what is up with you, we got on the that upside down ferrus wheel thing, and you didn’t even flinch! Was it really the monkeys you wanted to see? We could’ve gone to Dublin Zoo, if that was the case.”
I shook my head, “No, I wanted to go on the rides here, it’s just-”
The real reason was that I didn’t get anything from these rides. Not when I'd been launched at ten times their speed, without any safety precautions.
Obviously, I couldn’t tell her that.
“-I’m just feeling a little down. About leaving Mullet in that line. What’s it been, two hours?”
She looked at me with pitying eyes, “Aw, Sam... You shouldn’t feel bad about it,” I didn’t really, but whatever, “We should get something else to eat. There was a kiosk, round the corner.”
I didn’t really want to go, the potato dauphinoise from the café was filling enough, and I hadn’t even seen whatever the ‘bush dog’ is.
“Ok, sure.” I bent the knee.
We waited in line for what felt like ages, it gave me time to look around. I noticed the mascot for Tayto, Mr. Tayto.
If you didn’t know, and you probably don’t, Tayto is a large business that’s even seen success in the UK. It’s mainly potato crisps, but they also do popcorn and that’s all I actually know about them. I of course knew about Tayto Park, which is built beside their second biggest crisp factory. There was a tour, but we didn’t care about that.
I’ve always been confused about how a crisp company can get into the amusement park industry, but when you think about it, how does an animation company like disney?
Anyway, the mascot, Mr Tayto, I was staring at him in my perifery, trying not to make eye contact with him.
I asked Saoirse, “what even is he?”
She hadn’t the faintest clue what I was talking about, “Mullet?”
I shook my head, making a slight motion to the man wearing a red suit and a large yellow oval over half his torso and head.
“Oh,” she understood, looking directly at him, “Mr Tayto. He’s a potato. Duh.”
I shook my head, agonising over the fact he was staring right at us now, “Potatoes aren’t yellow. They’re brown. Or red. Or beige. But never, ever yellow Sorsh.”
She joked, “We’ll they can’t exactly make him brown, can they?”
I didn’t understand what she was getting at, “Why not?”
Her look said it was obvious, as she took two potato spirals from the kiosk, the line had cleared quickly as he were making idle conversation.
She handed me the weird potato-on-a-stick, before asking, “You want to get your picture taken with him?”
“No,” I said.
“Why not?”
I just shook my head and tried to laugh the idea off.
She took that the wrong way. She walked to him. Asked him the worst possible question.
I was rooted to the ground. Mr Tayto, no, whoever was under that bulky suit, began his approach.
I wanted to scream. I wanted to jump out of there, to throw myself away.
My arm raised stiffly, as I waved to Saoirse who was taking a picture on her phone, “Smile Sam! She was laughing along, but I sure wasn’t.
I made that awkward face, the one I'd made a hundred million times before. Except this time, there was a giant yellow hand on my shoulder.
When his gras on me finally left, I marched by Saoirse, wanting to go back to the zoo, “Wait up,” she called.
Once I got out of view from those beady little eyes, my body convulsed and shivered.
“I freakin’ hate costumes-” I see the irony, but it was true, full body suits like that had always freaked me out. As I designer, I know there’s a man sweating like he’s in the lowest levels of hell, and he’s coming around, rubbing up against me. If all the noise from the machinery was gone, I swear his laboured breath would have been audible.
Saoirse had a straight face, “I thought you made clothes. You afraid of everything that isn’t a plain t shirt, or just suits?”
It was a pun, Mr Tayto was wearing a suit, and he was a suit. I didn’t laugh.
“I like comfort. Clothes that are easy to wear, stuff like that seems... painful.”
I gave it some thought, “You wear dresses pretty often, there’s no way stuff like that’s comfortable, right? Like I’ve heard heels are killer.”
Right now, she was just wearing a hoody with a zip. It’d keep her warm on the rides, but not hot while we were walking around, clearly, she’d chosen comfort.
“Yeah, it’s not like I can run about in a dress or heels, but I don’t wear clothes to be comfortable. I wear clothes, do my makeup, dye my hair, because it’s a part of who I am. You’d think an artist like you’d understand the idea of expressionism.”
I guess I didn’t really understand it. Not as Sam any way.
“I don’t really believe you by the way,” she’d passed me while we were walking, “it’s not like I've ever seen any clothes you’ve made.”
Honestly, I spent a lot of my time making Shamrock suits, most of the work I handed in for class was just designs, nothing really substantial.
“Yeah, sorry I don’t carry school work around with me to show off.”
Again, she had that straight face, it was one she wore a lot while I was walking around with her, usually before she bursts out laughing at something dumb I'd say.
I tried to follow the formula, “You know, I need to do something for my at the end of the year final piece, how about I make you a dress, huh?”
She looked back to check my expression. Maybe I played it a little to dead pan.
“Wouldn’t I have to be there when you start making it?”
I leaned into the joke not giving it much thought, talking about anything would be better than the Tayto man.
“Sure, I’d have to get your measurements, hips, waist- hell, it’s crazy Mullet isn’t doing that professionally.”
She seemed to finally understand that I was trying to joke, “Oh, sure. He’d probably do that.”
I’d expected a better response. She thought the fact that I was into textiles was hilarious, but she actually seemed dejected.
I didn’t think about it anymore at the time. But now I’m wondering, what was it she was checking for when she looked back at me?
There’s no way she thought that off handed comment was serious, right? Why would she want a dress I made when she can buy one worth infinitely more?
‘Mother fucker’, are the words I read on Mullet’s face as we were approaching his spot in the line. IT felt weird skipping the hundred or so people in line to go straight to the front, and there were definitely people who had a problem with six people going in front of them...
But did they seriously expect us to wait for three hours?
Mullet stopped lip sinking himself when he got close enough.
I tried to apologise, barely getting out “Mu-” when he cut me off, “you lying manipulative piece of shit!”
I understood what Saoirse had meant when she said to cut back on the profanity, there were families here.
“You set me up! I thought we had a moment last night, or at least, I have a really vague feeling that we did-”
Adonis, who had gotten there sooner than Saoirse and me, tried to cool the situation down, “Mullet, mate, I know this was a pretty shit thing to do to you, but you didn’t actually want to go here. Sam did.”
Mullet shook his head, moving closer to me, “You're taking his side! Of course, Adonis, just screw me over the second he gets here. You’ve all been incredibly shitty to me, you know that?” He gave it some thought, finding resolve, “but there’s one thing nobody can ruin for me. If things go wrong, I'll only have myself to blame.”
Adonis, and the girls had no clue what he was talking about, I didn’t either, not until Saoirse said, “No. No you fucking will not.”
She seemed to catch onto something that couldn’t be spoken about out loud, Izzy asked, what are ye talking ‘bout?”
Saoirse screwed her lips shut, but her eyes still said, ‘don’t’.
The roller coaster came back around, and the people in front of us filed on, from back to front, Adonis, TGFMAC, Feoli, and Izzy all got on. Saoirse lingered for a second, before climbing on as well. I followed after her.
The only seats left were at the front, “Perfect,” Mullet smiled, turning to Izzy who had already been buckled in, “Get in the front, I've got something important to tell you.”
His smarmy smile was what made me finally realise, or rather, remember what that was.
I said the same thing that Saoirse had, and got ignored.
Izzy turned him down, stating the obvious, “It’s not a blood seat belt. I can’t just press a button and get out. There’re still a couple seconds, Mull, just get in the cart and ask me before it starts up.”
He winced, “No, you’d hate that, I’ll just ask you when we get to the top of the drop.”
Was that seriously his idea of romantic? Or... logical.
Saoirse’s jaw had dropped at the specimen before her. I wasn’t shocked anymore.
I got in the seat, sitting beside Mullet who seemed like he was never going to let go of his grudge against me.
He was seething with rage, trying to not acknowledge my presence beside him. He tried focusing on making Izzy his fiancé.
When the roller coaster started up, the tracks clacked beneath, as he tried to speak, “Izzy, we’ve been dating for what, six years? I know I look at other girls, and that I'm not doing well in school, and that I've got no money- but you know all of that, and your still here, which is why I-”
“Come warriors! Come with me, Cu Chulainn, on an amazing adventure across the lands!” there were a couple seconds of audio being played from speakers in the dash, it was like whoever built the thing had made it that way just to step on Mullet’s toes.
He turned back around in his seat as we went flying up a steep rise, Mullet was pushed back into his seat, mouth open wide. I must have been pretty plain faced, maybe a slight worried frown. This really wasn’t doing anything for me so far, and I couldn’t even focus on it that much, not with this idiot trying to turn his head around to look at his girlfriend.
He had his hand in his pocket, probably on that damn box.
We were twisting and turning around corners, and his resolve still held. He was literally fighting the force of the rollercoaster.
Curiosity got the best of me. I loosened my face, letting it flap in the wind like my harder-than-stone face couldn’t resist it. I turned to see what the others were doing, if Saoirse was trying to stop Mullet from doing something stupid.
I don’t know if that’s when the ride had actually slowed down or not, but I felt it lose momentum.
They were having a blast. All of them.
Izzy’s eyes were still screwed shut, Saoirse’s were clouded by tears of joy.
Adonis had his hand on TGFMAC’s.
Feoli... her reaction was the one that affected me the most. She was strong. Not as powerful as me, but we had been pretty close in resistance a month ago.
She was screaming in a high pitch, it was one long laugh that never seemed to end. I thought about asking myself some questions about whether or not she even needed to breath, but I guess my analytically mind just couldn’t be bothered taking that away from her behaviour.
I gave it some thought. Unlike me, she wasn’t strong enough to kick herself over miles at high speeds, but she was tough enough to be completely fine if a mechanism in the rollercoaster broke, killing us. Those might seem like two completely unrelated things, but it meant everything.
This was her first time feeling such a rush of air, and it was without any fear for her life.
Honestly, it’s how I'd imagined super powers being when I was a kid.
I turned back around. Dropping the fake expression.
I should have been happy- I was happy, that they were enjoying themselves...
But it was completely and utterly over shadowed by the numbness I felt in response to the source of their happiness.
That numbness, finally acknowledging what I'd lost- suddenly my frown wasn’t so slight.
I wiped at my face with both hands as it slowed. We were at the base of the peak; we’d slowed to a crawl.
“Shit,” came a frustrated scream.
I pulled my hands away from my face, only to see he was making the same expression; a little less depressed and a little more frustrated. His hands were balled into fists that looked like they might break into his head.
“Shit!”
He repeated it a couple more times, before Izzy shouted back, still giddy, “What love! What’s your fecken problem, ahaha!
“I dropped it!”
With those words, I tilted my head to the side lazily, trying to turn away from him. I looked up to the flags of the world that decorated the roller coaster, trying to recognise them.
I couldn’t really.
Izzy kept asking what it was Mullet had dropped as the cart almost froze to a stop on the hill.
She’d asked if it was his phone, or wallet, or car keys- all of which were the wrong answer.
I let out a sigh as he said, “The ring-”
He sounded pretty miserable.
Then he shouted, “fuck it!”
I heard the seat creak as he turned around, “Izzy we should just fucking get married! Sometime this month.”
She wasn’t taking him seriously, thought me and Sorsh knew he was serious.
He might have failed at purposing, but he’d served to break me out of my melancholy.
I noticed just in time that we were about to drop, which would’ve been fine if Mullet wasn’t half leaning out of his seat.
It was a split-second reaction, I stabbed out with my arm, right before we started to fall down.
He was held barely between my arm and the safety bar. If I wasn’t sitting beside him, he’d have died.
I took a single look back at the rest of the passengers, nobody seemed to notice the significance of what I'd done, not even Mullet.
I checked on him.
I slowed into a laugh, mostly because I wasn’t postive on his condition.
His face was smushed awkwardly in my bicep, not far from my arm pit.
So I laughed at his expense, internally.
I didn't know it at the time, only know while I'm typing this up at ten PM have I realised that was the last time I can remember thinking anyhting was funny, even if it was at Mullet's expense.
I guess after that is when reality caved in on my dumb little expenseless trip.
I've hardly got the resolve to face it. The truth that's been in front of me all along. Maybe that's why i started to feel so nostalgic.
Or vice versa.