Page 78 of Love Unlocked

31

AL

Al drums his fingers on his desk. He’s surrounded by bridges, literally and figuratively. On his walls, behind him over the Liffey, and in his heart and mind. He has already built an emotional bridge and is over it. He’s on the other side looking back and not recognising who he was. Or who Walter and Tara were. Or how bizarre and unhealthy his relationship with Walter was, and the living arrangements. And how he played a part in their relationship by constantly bringing the three of them together. Because Tara wasn’t enough, he needed a friend in Walter, and Walter alone wasn’t enough and he needed Tara. He’s looking back at the darkness of December and January and glad he survived it. Some nights he didn’t think he would.

And though he should probably lick his wounds a little longer, be by himself and figure himself out, all he can think of is Melody. He shouldn’t embark on anything serious, he almost just married the wrong person, Walter saved him from that, but Melody has consistently cheered him up, made him laugh while also engaging in honest personal revelations. He appreciates that. And he’s concerned about her. Right now, her world is revolving around the love locks that he removed from the bridge, leaving her feeling even more vulnerable, and he might be able to do something about that.

He’s conscious of all eyes on him as he makes his way to Walter’s office. He raps on the door respectfully, Walter looks up and flinches, as if expecting a punch to be thrown from the other side of the room. He looks even worse now than he did before. The neat new haircut is messy and grown out. His curls have always been unmanageable, hair gel never had any effect. His eyes are red as though he’s been crying. He could do with a shave. Again, Al’s conscious of the eyes on them and Tony in the nearby office with full view of this. Everybody knows what happened now, there are no secrets anymore.

‘Walter, the padlock keys in the Camac River, what’s the situation on that?’

Walter seems surprised that it’s work-related. ‘We can’t do anything about them. It’s up to Dublin City Council. They’re conducting a river rehabilitation and flood alleviation scheme so it’s their portfolio, not mine.’

‘Okay,’ Al says. ‘Who do I contact there when they dredge the bed?’

Walter checks his emails and calls out an address, Al takes it down. ‘Grand, thanks,’ he says and leaves.

‘Al,’ Walter calls out.

Walter’s lip quivers, his Adam’s apple works as he attempts to say whatever it is he wants to say. Feeling sorry, saying sorry, is a physical thing, not just words. Al can see it in him. Walter is sorry but he still did what he did, and is still doing it. Al waits patiently, he’s not going to ruin this with an outburst but he’s not going to make it easier for Walter either. Al deserves this. So does Walter.

‘I’m sorry I called the guards in. I was angry. These women have been contacting me night and day, and my shoes, and my shirts, and my boxer shorts.’ His voice trembles. ‘I know it’s been hard for you, I know.’ He rubs his face and his hair. ‘But it’s been a nightmare for me.’

Al holds his stare. He’s not apologising, but his insides shake. He’s acutely aware of Melody’s insight. It’s Walter who broke his heart more than Tara did. They were like brothers, and the betrayal nearly ended him.

‘We didn’t even get to tell our friends and family first. My dad,’ Walter says, running his fingers through his curls, with trembling nail-bitten fingers. ‘You know what he’s like. Tara’s sisters aren’t talking to her. She can’t deal with it.’

Al has little sympathy. He once loved these people, maybe he still does and that’s why it hurts so much, but they made their choice.

‘What did you expect, Walter? When you do something like this, what did you expect?’

Al is baffled that Walter would ever have expected any other response. He has no doubt that in time friends and family will come round, that Tara and Walter or Walter and Tara will be welcomed as a couple and there’ll be no looking back. Al will be that ex from that time of their life that’s vague, and messy, but if Walter saw this as a moment to shine, to step out of his shadow and be back-slapped by the people in their lives, then he was wildly misguided. Al was never the bad guy. Walter looks as broken as Al felt since before Christmas.

‘You and I are not friends,’ Al says. ‘And we won’t ever be again. But we’re not enemies either.’

Walter’s lip quivers, sad at the loss, and he nods.

And a line is drawn under that.

But he’s still no closer to getting the keys to the locks which means he needs to go in the other direction. When he returns to his office Natasha is blocking his door with her arms folded.

‘What now?’

‘I called Evolution Metal recycling centre,’ she says, accusingly. ‘Just to be sure that the locks were really gone.’

He sighs. ‘Yeah?’

‘They said they never received them.’

It’s the third Thursday in January, that miserable day that Al had arranged to have the love locks removed from the Grace Plunkett Bridge.

It’s cold and grey. It’s drizzling and the rain is picking up, and getting heavier. The perk to this weather is that the bridge is quieter than usual, there aren’t as many people out walking. Mikey and the boys are helping him remove the love locks as agreed by Tony after reading his report. Loaded with bolt cutters they each take a different section of the bridge and begin cutting. As soon as the locks are released they drop them into large plastic containers. The locks make a loud bang as they thud into the containers, then clink and crash as the containers start to fill up.

‘Some of these are tricky to reach,’ Mikey says to the lads. ‘For the difficult positions use an angle grinder.’ He looks at Al. ‘It would be easier if we could just lift out the entire grid, instead of cutting the locks individually.’

‘The grids have to stay,’ Al says. ‘Tony’s orders. There’s no budget for replacement grids.’

Mikey snorts, it’s nothing new to him, then puts his head down and doesn’t speak for the duration of the job. He’s a man of few words and a solid worker.