‘The last I saw of Fionn he was getting into a taxi with a woman who – honestly – had a face like Mary Byrne’s knee’
UNGOVER? I FEEL like I’m giving birth to myself without an epidural.
What am I doing up at, like, 11 o’clock on a Sunday morning? You might well ask. Yeah, no, I’m about to get fitted for my tux for Fionn and Erika’s wedding. There’s only, like, eight weeks to go? It has to be said, she’s leaving it pretty late in the day to pull out of this thing. Fionn’s got a serious kick in the town halls coming to him and I’d rather it happened now than at the actual altar. And I’m saying that as his best man.
I mention this to JP, roysh, standing outside the suit-hire place, waiting for the others to arrive. He laughs and tells me I’m wrong. “She’s in love, Ross. Everyone’s saying it – they’ve never seen her like this about a man before.” Then it’s, like, my turn to laugh? “Dude,” I go, “I know my sister. She doesn’t care about men. She cares about her lifestyle.
“Expensive holidays. The best of restaurants. Clothes. What was that nickname they came up with for her, during the whole Iraq thing?”
“Shop and awe.”
“Shop and awe. That was it. And what kind of lifestyle is he going to provide – er, an unemployed teacher?”
“That’s harsh, Ross.”
“Well, you know me, J Town – I’ve never been afraid to call it. Look, I love them both. But they’re just not suited. She likes the good life. His idea of excitement is letting the petrol in his Prius run down until the focking fuel light comes on.”
He has no actual comeback to that. He doesn’t get a chance to say anything because we suddenly spot Fionn walking up Main Street. We’re in, like, Blackrock? He’s with this girl – a cracking little giggler, I don’t mind telling you – who I quickly recognise as Elinor, his older sister. She’s obviously here to give us, like, a woman’s perspective on shit? I always suspected that Elinor had a a bit of a thing for me. The word is she’s just broken up with her boyfriend of, like, eight years. She wanted to get married but the dude never produced the ice. We all know how that one goes. She walked.
I give her a kiss on either cheek and a big hug – just to let her know we’re not all the same. If anything, she’s better looking than she was back in the day? And her orse? It’s God’s work. Fionn immediately breaks it up. It’d kill him, of course, the idea of me doing the old mish posish with his sister.
“Oisinn and Christian are both running late,” he goes. He’s having, like, four groomsmen? “I said we’d go ahead and get sorted ourselves,” which is exactly what ends up happening.
JP gets measured first. Fionn storts going through the racks – the fact that he’s even renting a suit instead of, like, buying one would have had the old Erika’s teeth itching – while I stand around offering Elinor the benefit of my relationship experience.
“Possibly the best advice I can give you is to get back in the game,” I go. “And I’m saying that as someone whose marriage is over and is currently unattached. You need to have some fun – preferably with someone who’s in the same situation showing you the ropes.” I give her a big dirty wink, just in case what I said went over her head. I doubt if it did, though. She did international commerce with French in UCD.
“I’m just not there yet,” she gives it. “All I can think about is David and all those years that I wasted with him.” I put on my famous sincere face and I go, “Why do men hurt?” and then I punch the door of the fitting room – I don’t know why? It just seems like the right thing to do at that moment.
The dude who owns the shop isn’t a happy rabbit. “Yes, can you not do that,” he goes. “Come over here and let me measure your neck.”
“It’ll be XXXL,” Fionn goes, bulling with me. See, it’s okay for him to be with my sister but not the other way around.
Oisinn arrives in then and it’s high-fives all round. He’s hanging, though – worse than me. The last I saw of him he was getting into a taxi with a woman who – honestly – had a face like Mary Byrne’s knee. “How’d you get on?” I go.
One of the amazing things about Oisinn is that he never tries to talk up his conquests. “It’s the last time I pull a Disco Divorcee,” he goes. “Woke up with a five-year-old kid at the end of the bed saying he wanted his cereal. Suddenly felt very old. What about you?”
I laugh. “Let’s just say I had to Google Map Search myself at, like, 8 o’clock this morning – does that sound like a good night to you?”
JP has to get in on the act then. “Did you go home with Isla Coren?” I’m looking at Elinor. I’m like, “Errr.”
“Jesus, Ross – she’s like the Luas green line,” JP goes. “She’s been laid from Stephen’s Green to Loughlinstown.”
Of course they all laugh their heads off at that. Even Fionn. Which is some way to treat your supposed best man. Then he ends up having to go, “Ross, why have you taken your shirt off?” The dude who runs the shop goes, “I was about to ask him the same question.” See, I knew he didn’t like me from the second I walked through the door. “I told him, I only need to measure his neck and arm.”
I’m there, “It’s best to be sure.” The thing is, I’m, like, totally ripped at the moment. And the sight of me stripped to the waist has certainly put the sparkle back in Elinor’s eyes.
She’s got her mouth slung open like an elephant looking for buns.
The door of the shop opens again and in walks Christian. It has to be said, I know the America thing didn’t work out for him but it’s, like, good to have my best friend back in the country. “Did you get sick in Isla Coren’s fish bowl?” is his opening line.
I’m like, “What?”
“I got a text from her. She said her fish are dead.”
Jesus, I forgot they’re cousins. I just shrug. “You know me, dude – I was never one to kiss and tell.” It’s an amazing, amazing line.
I look at the appalled faces staring back at me and I think to myself, isn’t this great? It’s, like, 12 and a half years since Mary Mac put the famous tin pot in my hands and look at us – still together. Our lives are different. They’re certainly a lot shitter. Between us, we’ve seen it all. Redundancy. Divorce. Bankruptcy. Fionn there’s about to get the land of a lifetime. But we’re still all friends. I suddenly get this, like, flash of memory.
Fr Fehily standing on the sideline, going: “Endure! Endure! Endure!” And we do. And there’s no agency can put a rating on that.
rossocarroll kelly.ie, twitter.com/ rossock