Page 34 of Love Unlocked

12

Melody

It’s been a day and a half, and Melody is wiped out emotionally. After meeting Al Collins she intends on crawling into bed and napping for a short while, but ends up sleeping for four hours. Not what she should have done when she’s facing a night alone with no Plan A or B. She should have tried to stay awake until bedtime so that she could be so exhausted she would sleep through the crippling anxiety, or the fear of abduction, rape, arson, burglary, natural disaster or invasion.

Her mum declines the invitation to stay overnight with her and when Melody asks, again, if she can stay with her, she’s gently told that it would be in her own best interests to work it out. Melody can’t call Sam and Louise. There are no gigs for her tonight. Nobody is available to socialise. Sandy has a new boyfriend, Jessica has a new baby. Katie has a new boyfriend who has a new baby with someone else but that’s a whole other story. Gemma is still devastated from her break-up with her husband and isn’t taking calls, she’s licking her wounds with her two teenage daughters as they all grieve the loss. Becca is working at four a.m. at the airport so is no use to her and Jenny, who she’s not that close with, but who she asked out of desperation, declined without a reason which was embarrassing but absolutely understandable. Melody is strongly considering getting drunk all by herself so that she can call by Andrew’s place. Andrew is not a boyfriend but someone whose arms and bed she keeps falling into like a bad habit. He likes a late-night call; a sober hook-up when she needs him would signal a request for an emotional connection. Neither of them want that. The Andrew idea aside, she considers setting up a new date on an app, just for the company and then she wonders what the hell is wrong with her if she thinks staying out drinking with a stranger she’s just met on an app is safer than sleeping in her own home.

She considers Filip Wozniak who has texted her a few times since they swapped numbers after her Sunday brunch gig but she’s not in the mood to sit through hours of him sniping about his ex. Well, she could. It’s not below her, but she has a better idea.

What she does is return to Al’s office.

Her persistence with the love locks story is for three reasons: she does not want to be alone tonight, that has been covered. After her epic fail with Sam and Louise on the podcast, there’s now a better pod story. There’s large public traction on a story she discovered. With Prunella pecking at her heels she needs to move swiftly. The third reason is her mother. It seems that the disappearance of her mother’s love lock from the bridge has not just caused the love to be lost between her and Derek, but has possibly depleted all of her love supply, even for Melody. Those are enough good reasons to pursue this story. And the highest on her list right now is actually a fourth reason. She wants to see Al Collins again.

Yes, she could ring Al like a normal person and make an appointment, but she quite likes the idea of not being alone immediately, and she quite likes the idea of not being alone with him. He makes her laugh. She replays the feeling of walking down the stairs and seeing him there at the end, a broad-shouldered prince looking up at her with delight and awe, as if he’d checked with every person in the kingdom if the scooter and helmet belonged to them and here she is, the last person in town to try it. She gets butterflies in her tummy just reliving it in her head, and likes the feeling. Crushes, she likes, crushes are safe. Crushes are harmless and fun. A crush could get her through a night alone.

At five thirty, Al comes out of the building at speed, spinning out of the revolving door like a race horse out of the gate.

‘Al!’

He doesn’t reply or look her way. He turns in the opposite direction. He walks fast, his legs are long, his strides are twice the length of hers. She feels like she’s jogging to keep up with a T-rex on a dinosaur highway – she left the scooter at home this time.

‘Al!’ She jogs behind him, unable to get beside him because of the people coming from the other direction. His headphones are on. She can hear the sound of the snare from here. He’s going to deafen himself. She plans on jumping out in front of his path and stopping him in his tracks, but he suddenly changes course and crosses the road. A car beeps its horn at him as he narrowly avoids being hit. He is none the wiser, completely in his own zone.

The steady flow of traffic prevents Melody from crossing the road, so she continues walking on the other side, keeping pace with him while she figures out how to approach him now that they’ve moved away from his office building. Should she feign a surprise meeting? Is she capable of feigning anything that he wouldn’t see right through? He enters a pet shop and she stops suddenly, the person behind her crashing into her and swearing lightly.

The traffic continues to flow leaving her no opportunity to cross the road so she walks to the nearest pedestrian lights. Could she naturally bump into him in the pet shop? Outside the pet shop? She doesn’t even have a pet. As she waits for the green man, Al emerges from the pet shop, nothing in his hands, backpack looking more stuffed on his back. He walks so fast she gives up trying to cross over and follows him again from across the road. She tells herself that this way it won’t be as weird.

He crosses MacMahon Bridge from Grand Canal Quay to Ringsend. They’re moving away from the city to a residential area, she should probably back off now, she’s lost her moment. But of course she keeps going. She has nothing else to do. She’s wrapped up in a woollen hat and scarf and yet she’s still recognised by some passersby; some stare, a few smile, but Al Collins is still oblivious. Finally he turns into a road of terraced houses and she hangs back. She can’t possibly approach him at his house. That would definitely be weird. But she does want to stay long enough to watch where he lives because now she’s intrigued. She hangs around a cute garden area with a bench and watches him stop in front of a black door. His headphones are still on. He hasn’t yet stepped up on the path, he looks at the house from the road. He doesn’t ring the doorbell or look around, it’s like he’s in a trance. She’s too intrigued to leave now, what the hell is he doing? A man smelling of stale smoke and carrying a plastic bag of clinking bottles passes her by.

‘Evening,’ he says.

‘Good evening.’

He makes his way down the road, and crosses over, stopping at the house beside Al. Al removes his headphones, then takes a key from his pocket and goes inside. She waits for a moment, trying to consider what to do. It would definitely be weird for her to knock at his door. She can’t admit to following him. But she really does not want to go home to begin the long night alone.

It’s January. Nothing happens in January. It’s already dark, it will be dark until eight a.m. It has not been a permanently grey January like previous years and Melody appreciates that, even as they move into the sixth week of January. The past few days they have had lovely bright days and sunshine. Because of her working hours she could sometimes go for days never seeing sunshine at all so she makes a point of going out and catching the morning sun. It’s good for her soul. It’s a calm night. It’s a lovely bench. She sits down in a pretty little manicured corner. The road is safe. If she lived here alone, she would sit on the bench at night and not feel unsafe. Why can’t she do this on her balcony?

A few minutes later, a woman rounds the corner, her phone to her ear. She seems hassled.

‘Look, I don’t think there’s any point in us discussing this again.’ She pauses, and rubs her eyes, stressed. ‘I don’t want to get into it, there’s nothing to be gained.’

The woman enters the same house Al went inside. Melody is immediately deflated. Probably his girlfriend, or his wife. This disappoints her. She did think he’d liked her. He’d told her he’d call her, he’d had a specific tone that she felt suggested something else, not a business call. There was good chemistry. It could of course be his sister but Al living with his sister would equally disappoint her.

She sits some more. She definitely can’t knock on the door now. But where can she go until five a.m.? She thinks of Andrew, and groans. She ponders another grovelling apology to Sam and Louise. Then Filip is back on the cards, maybe she could put up with hearing about his ex if it means she won’t be alone. She hates feeling this needy when she’s generally so independent and free.

A guy cycles past her. He stops outside number 11. Before he even gets there, the door opens and the woman who was on the phone covers him in kisses. Melody’s relief confirms her crush on Al. Still, it could be his sister. Feeling bold, and desperate, Melody approaches Al’s house.

She rings the doorbell.

The woman answers. She has strawberry-blonde hair, tied back in a severe high pony, and sharp features. She’s pale, pretty and pointy.

‘Hi, could I speak with Al, please.’ Melody offers her prize-winning smile.

Melody can tell that the woman doesn’t recognise her. She’s frowning, the door closed over acting as a shield to protect herself from attack from this stranger.

‘Al? No, he’s not here. He doesn’t live here anymore.’

Melody frowns. But she just saw him go inside. He’s avoiding her? That’s understandable, it is weird that she’s at his home. She starts to slowly back away when suddenly the door opens next door, from number 12, and Al peeps out. He puts a finger over his lips.