“Cara, just pop into Maeve and say hi. It doesn’t need to be a big deal, love.”
Without looking, Bridget, Cara’s mum, handed her a washed pair of metal tongs she’d used on the barbecue that evening. As she passed it over, water and clementine-smelling suds dripped on the marble draining board. Cara started drying it with the tea towel Bridget had given her and eyed up the rest of the stuff that still needed to be washed. The radio was down so low you couldn’t hear what was playing. Wet cloth marks were slowing fading on the kitchen table from the antibacterial spray.
“I just wish you didn’t organise this, I dunno, meet up. You’re asking me to interrupt her workday. Just to catch up,” Cara said. She picked at remnants of charred meat on the silicone grip that hadn’t been washed off.
“Oh, come on,” Bridget said, smirking. “It’s a café, it’s hardly an interruption.” Water splashed upwards when she added a pot to the basin. She squelched in more washing up liquid and began washing a scissors they’d used on the meat. “I know it’s been a few months since…look, she’ll be glad to see you.”
Cara felt her stomach tighten. Leaning against the countertop, she played with a blob of washing up liquid that hadn’t yet become suds. When Bridget went to the utility room to find a better sponge, Cara pressed her thumbnail firmly into the tongs and scraped the metal until she left a mark.
That evening, Cara stayed upstairs while her parents and Orla, her younger sister, re-watched the most recent season of Breaking Bad in the living room. In her bedroom, she felt around her sports bag to remind herself for what she’d already packed the day before; she was due to head back to university in Galway for her final year. Wondering where her student card was, she started shifting notebooks, a highlighter with no lid, a Carmex lip balm and a Boots loyalty card around on her desk. When she sifted through her drawers, she found the photos she’d developed from the music festival in June; that was the last time they were all with Maeve as a group. Cara always had a camera on her; it was a 35mm film one that Bridget used when Cara and Orla were growing up. Bridget’s meticulous upkeep of photo albums inspired Cara to do the same since she was twelve. When she found the June photos, they weren’t in any photo album, but still in the paper envelope you’d get from the kiosks at Harvey Norman. The ink on the receipt stapled to the outer cover had faded slightly. She glanced at the loose threads of her festival wristband, it was still damp from the wash-up. She figured she was the only one still wearing it.
The first few pictures were of all five of them on a bus up to Navan town. Buses had been going since the seven that morning and Cara, Maeve and their friends caught the last one from the city centre around noon; they were already through two cans before by the time they’d gotten on the motorway. There were pictures of them queuing to get into the campsite, more at their tents and sporadic ones at gigs and between sets. Over the course of the weekend, outfits were reused, toothbrushes were lost and makeup was slept in. The photos stopped on their last day, the Sunday afternoon. The last one was of Maeve smiling, holding up a veggie burger and three sachets of ketchup. She was wearing neon pink shorts and a plaid shirt. Her necklace with her initial was tangled up in the four other necklaces she wanted to wear. Her cheeks were big from smiling and pink from sunburn.
On Tuesday, around half twelve, Maeve saw Cara through the café window before Cara did. She waved at her, smiling and beckoned Cara inside. Cara felt awkward waving to match her enthusiasm, even though there weren’t many people on the street beside her. The cafe was just off Plassey Park Road, near the local university; most of their customers were people who worked in the industrial estate ten minutes’ walk away or fancy graduate students who could afford regular eggs benedict and sourdough. Maeve was already holding open the door when Cara pivoted around to the front entrance, passing a few people eating at the benches.
“Well stranger, how are things?” Maeve said, hugging her with both arms. It startled Cara as she was only planning to give her a side hug with one hand. Maeve had a navy apron on and she was holding a used coffee cup. She looked tanned and her hair was chopped shorter than the last time Cara had seen her. Cara noticed she was still wearing her ‘M’ necklace.
“I’m really good,” Cara said. “I hear my mother accosted you the other day. Well, not accosted you, just- yeah, she said she’d seen you.”
“In Supervalu,” Maeve said, moving out of the way for her to step inside. “Caught her in the veg section, so I did.”
“In Supervalu, yeah. Near the carrots, apparently. Obviously…like you’ve said.” Cara swallowed, unsure why she felt the need to say that.
“She’s looking well, I think the last time I saw her was the May bank holiday, for your birthday.”
“Yeah, it’s been a while,” Cara said. She peered around the café. She was disappointed to see only two tables were occupied. She figured if there were going to be awkward silences between them at least other conversations surrounding them would drown it out. They walked to the till and Cara could see three people moving around in the kitchen through the glass wall.
“So, how long has it been? Hardly since the festival, was it?” Maeve said, smiling at her; Cara was trying to figure out if she actually needed help remembering. Maeve slotted in behind the counter and took a sip of a green juice with a straw. The worktop was wooden; there were two types of dairy-free brownies and an iPad for a till.
“Maybe, yeah. Has it? Couldn’t tell you,” Cara lied. Maeve leaned against the counter and placed her hands down. Cara stood back from it her sunglasses still in her hand.
“That’s mad. You’re looking great, anyway. How’s your summer been? Bet you’re excited to get back to Galway, are you?”
“Thanks, yeah. It’s been good. Same old, you know.”
“Well, I don’t know. I haven’t seen you.” Cara thought she’d caught a nervous laugh from Maeve but couldn’t be sure. “What have you been up to? Have you seen the girls?”
The café suddenly felt like a sauna. Cara craned her neck to see if all the windows were open and was unsettled to see that they were. “Yeah, sometimes. Not a lot, actually, in the last few weeks. There was loads of plans to do things together, I guess it just never materialised.” Cara said it like she’d been forcing indifference; she’d been relieved that the plans didn’t at all materialise.
Maeve’s eyebrows were raised like she was expecting Cara to elaborate. There was a pause for a few seconds.
“How’s your summer-” Cara said.
“So, have you been-”
“Sorry, you go,” Cara said, waving Maeve to continue.
Maeve laughed a nervous laugh this time that Cara hadn’t yet witnessed in their ten-year friendship. “I was just going to ask if you’ve been away at all?”
“France, with the family,” Cara said. She glanced at the menu, feeling the need for a breather.
“Nice. I was just in Kerry with mine. Can’t beat it.”
“You’re not wrong.”
Maeve smiled again and pivoted to the side remembering there were other customers in the café. A man with a recently barbered beard lounged with a coffee on the couch beside the menu on the wall that specified five types of milk. Two women in yoga leggings were three mismatched tables over, eating American style pancakes.
“Here, grab a table, there.” Maeve pointed to the window seat while walking towards the walnut-coloured shelving; all the mugs were made of glass and stood upside-down with the handles all angled to the right. Cara headed to her seat when Maeve called out, “Tea, is it?”
“Yeah, thank you,” Cara said, glancing up; embarrassed to shout it from across the café.
“Sure,” Maeve said, picking up the cloth on the counter on the way.
When Cara pulled out the chair on the wooden floor, the man stared at her because of the noise. She hung her bag and jacket off the chair and sat down, peering in the direction of the outdoor eating area. A group of teenagers gathered around the strip of wall that separated a window and the side gate to the café; a boy had his arm on the shoulders of one of the girls and she pretended not to like it and two more were furiously smoking. There were three men in rugby shorts eating mix of salmon and eggs on soda bread and a breakfast burrito.
A Fleetwood Mac song was noticeably louder since she’d arrived; Cara wondered if Maeve had fiddled with the volume. The coffee machine made noises beside Maeve as she searched for a spoon for the saucer. The café was the same from the last time Cara had called in. She used to be there with Maeve every weekend during university to study. The summer before she’d come most days just to read her book while Maeve worked; Cara had yet to appear there that summer. Maeve saw her looking and they both smiled politely at each other. Maeve added a biscuit to the saucer and made her way back to Cara.
“Here you go,” she said, sliding the tea to Cara’s left. “You still like peppermint, right?” she asked, sitting on the bench opposite her. She rested both elbows on the table; she didn’t veer closer to Cara this time.
“I do, yeah. Still my favourite.” Cara knew it’d be too hot but took a sip anyway to do something with her hands. She winced when she burnt her tongue. She was busy controlling her facial expression that she didn’t hear what Maeve had said next. “What did you say, sorry?”
“I was just asking if you’d had a good weekend?” Maeve repeated. The energy behind it felt forced.
“Yeah, family barbecue. That was mostly it really.”
“Not with the girls this weekend?”
“I don’t really see them- sorry, get to see them, a lot anymore.” Cara smiled faintly and looked around. Neither said anything. Maeve pulled at her necklace and Cara stirred her tea again.
Maeve continued. “I can’t believe it’s been so long. It’s great to see you.”
“Absolutely, you too.”
“I was creeping on your Instagram as well, after I spoke to your Mom. What was your most recent photo? The green space at the museum?”
Cara pretended she was trying to remember, then nodded, “Yeah, beside the river.”
“Is that where we went for that outdoor cinema that time?”
“That’s the one, yeah. ‘Grease’.”
“Such a good film.”
“It is.” Cara half smiled.
When Maeve twisted around to check on the customers her neck peeked out from under her shirt. The purple bruises that had enveloped her the last time she’d seen her were gone. A dull pain spread across Cara’s chest.
Maeve turned back to Cara. “So, did you live at home for the summer? Or, were you up in Galway much?”
“I went up for a birthday, but mostly Limerick, yeah,” Cara said. “How about you?”
“With the family. It’s handy to save, really.”
Cara nodded as if to say ‘fair enough’. “So, how is-” Maeve smiled at Cara when she’d realised Cara had forgotten her sisters name. “Fiona.”
“Sorry, yeah,” Cara said, refolding a napkin to her left. “How’s she?”
Maeve filled Cara in on Fiona’s new posh south Dublin boyfriend. Maeve had rolled her eyes when she said ‘south’. When Cara laughed, her bag fell and they both reacted and reached for it. They held it awkwardly at the same time before Maeve let go.
“Sorry, there you go,” Maeve said.
“Thanks- thank you.” Cara placed it behind her and glanced across the floor. “How has work been, anyway? Nice and quiet still?”
“Fine, really. I’ve been here just over a year, you know. Isn’t that crazy? You’re always welcome to visit more, if you want. Like you used to.” Maeve had said it in a way that was less accusatory and more ‘I really wish you visited more’. Cara felt sick.
A woman hovered at the till and smiled towards Maeve. Cara, relieved for the break, gestured with her head, “A customer wants to pay, there.”
“Oh! Two seconds.” Maeve swung around when she stood up. “Are we all set? Just the Americano and pancakes…” Cara was impressed her voice didn’t jump an octave like Cara’s did when she used to be a waitress.
Cara readjusted her jacket behind her again; the zip had been sticking into her arm. Outside, the two teenagers had graduated to taking selfies together. The girl waved the guy to kiss her on the cheek while she took the photo. They both studied them before taking more. Cara looked down at the table and noticed her music was still playing through her headphones.
She watched Maeve grab a takeaway box while the woman tapped her card on the machine. She was slimmer since the last time she’d seen her. Cara turned behind around to locate the bathroom.
It was a unisex bathroom with a sign saying ‘Whatever, just wash your hands’. Cara shuddered when her skin pressed against the cool toilet seat. Afterwards, she went to the sink and saw she’d sweated part of the way through the orange crop top she was wearing. She stared at nothing for what felt like five minutes, rubbed in a scented hand cream, then slid her gold rings back on as she returned to the table. Maeve walked over with a small brownie.
“Want this? I get free dessert every shift but I’m not feeling it today.” She placed it in the middle of the table before Cara could say anything. Half of the fork was already dusted with icing sugar.
“Oh, thank you. Haven’t had a brownie in ages.”
She slid down the bench. “No? I remember we made them nearly every week after school.”
“Oh fuck, yeah. We did.” Cara laughed and tucked her hair behind her ear.
Maeve chewed the inside of her mouth. “So, have you been clubbing?”
Cara ran through the question twice in her head before replying. “Not in ages, no.”
“That’s not like you,” she joked.
Cara leaned forward to taste the brownie. “What about you? Have you been out?”
Maeve face lit up for the first time that day. “I have, kind of. I made some new friends, I went back to ballet class. Remember I always had it on a-”
“Saturday morning,” Cara added, wiping chocolate from the corner of her mouth.
Maeve laughed to herself. “It sounds so strange saying that. ‘I made some new friends.’” She said it in a mocking tone, but smirked at the same time. “It’s weird trying to make friends as an adult.”
“That’s very true,” Cara said. “What’s ballet like as an adult, anyway?”
Maeve scoffed. “Attempting to look flexible for fifty-five minutes, I would say.”
“Fair enough.”
Maeve gestured to the dessert. “Good? They’re vegan too. Are you still- no, you’re vegetarian. I remember,” she said, nodding to herself. Cara felt awkward, like they were veering towards surface-level talk again.
The man got up to take a call outside and they both watched him leave. Her eyes shifted towards the vintage clock on the wall; she’d been there nearly twenty-five minutes.
Maeve adjusted her shirt again and pretended to be busy with the top two buttons. “I stopped drinking, you know.”
As Cara’s throat swelled, she tried to keep her mouth tense. She sat back into her chair. “Oh yeah?”
Maeve hesitated. “Well, I had to, you know.” She smiled, but it didn’t meet her eyes, then turned away.
Cara loosened her grip on the fork she was still holding. It clattered as it slid towards the centre of the plate. Her eyes darted to Maeve’s neck again and Cara didn’t make eye contact when Maeve looked at her.
“You know that-” Maeve started, “I’m not mad at you, at all. For what happened.” Cara glanced up. “Look,” Maeve said, shaking her head, “I got too drunk. Well, no- that’s sounds like I’m blaming me and not the guy.” She gestured with her hand and then paused. “I wasn’t in a good headspace back then. I just- my capacity for safety in general was just non-existent. I always went off on my own, Cara. That festival was no different.” She reached out to take her hand and Cara let her. She leaned in further. “I hope you don’t think that I blamed you. I mean-” she stopped again. “Didn’t you put me to bed twice? You physically brought me back to the tent, both times. And- and, your phone died. Every phone runs out of battery at a festival.”
Cara’s eyes flickered from the table, to her, then the table again. Maeve continued staring at her.
“You’re not to blame, Cara.”
“…Okay,” Cara said, then cleared her throat.
Maeve lowered her head to meet her eyes. “Good. Here-” she said, letting go of her hand. “Let me get you another tea.”
Cara nodded. “Yeah- yeah, thanks.” She inhaled sharply.
On Thursday evening, Cara was rotating chicken drumsticks on the barbecue. Its juice sputtered against the black metal tray when she pressed it down. Cara was wearing a grey round-neck jumper and held up an umbrella. Her ankles were wet from the rain. Her parents insisted on a final summer barbecue, even though Bridget appeared behind her and she jumped.
“You’re in your own world, love. How are they getting on?” Bridget said, ducking under the umbrella. She examined the chicken. “Not long, now. Thanks for sorting.” She cut open a packet of sausages and balanced the scissors on the chopping board where there was a small bit of space.
“No hassle,” Cara said.
Cara could feel Bridget’s eyes on her and moved her weight to her other leg. Bridget took a sip of Heineken and Cara glimpsed at her. After a short pause, Bridget leaned into her and rubbed her shoulder. “Thank you for seeing Maeve.”
“Yeah, sure. It was nice to catch up.”
Bridget hesitated. “…You did what you could love, okay?”
Cara chewed on the inside of her mouth and a brief silence grew between them.
“We can’t protect all the people we love, you know?” Bridget said, then Cara nodded. She kissed the top of Cara’s head. “Okay, I’ll help Orla with the salad.”
“Yeah, sure,” Cara said, feeling her mouth twitch.
Cara exhaled and placed individual pieces of chicken onto the upper grill to smoke them a bit more. She used a sponge to wipe off the grease on the edges of the barbecue then peeked inside to see if the table needed setting. When she saw it was set, she scrolled on her phone. After a few minutes, she looked at the wristband. The red ‘June 2019’ lettering was completely faded now. While holding the umbrella, she picked up the scissors and started cutting until the wristband dropped into a puddle at her feet.
Word count: 3,269