Sunrise with Sea Monster by Neil Jordan Read Free Book Online Page A

bric-a-brac. Though I later learnt there was no piano, she had learnt on the upright in the priest's
     house, then graduated to playing organ at Mass on Sundays, won a scholarship to Dublin and stayed at a hostel run by nuns
     in Leeson Street. But what matter, we should be able to choose the pasts of those around us: I would have had her in bare
     feet, an only child, walking that beach and golf course endlessly, a lover of twilights, aware of a grander destiny than was
     implied by her simple surroundings. We would reach the station then and she'd lean on the green pillar as the five-thirty
     came in from Greystones, she'd pat me on the cheek, tell me to practise and be gone in an expanse of railway carriages.
    The sun has become proper daylight now and the winds have died a bit. The priest turns and raises his fingers and rivers of
     sweat are running down his forehead. It is possible almost to feel sympathy for him in that board-like purple outfit, in front
     of this stolid congregation. He is reaching up to his moment I imagine when the pale hands take the small white disc and the
     mundane miracle happens. The Welshman to my left looks at me sideways, imagining my response. He knows everything, I imagine
     for a moment, with his small miner's eyes, his rocklike common sense. So what's a Mick doing here? he asks me with monotonous
     regularity. Passing the time, I tell him. I fancy the heat to disguise the fact that I know he knows I'm not one of them.
     Something in my face shows it, I suppose, some comfort emanates to me from the altar beyond us on the packing cases, the wine
     the priest pours from the leather gourd into the cruets and I wonder when he lifts the tiny disc between both thumbs and forefingers
     will I be able to resist the urge to kneel. My apostasy is almost over.
    She became a friend, I suppose that's the word for it, the gap between our ages wasn't that great; she would have been nineteen,
     pushing twenty, when I reached fourteen. I was a quick pupil, had a strong mimetic ability, came to copy every movement of
     her hands and came to see in the end that her facility was limited. The pieces we played became like duets. She tried to disguise
     the fact that I was gaining on her and I tried to hold myself back. But one day working on the Schumann I must have forgotten
     myself and played the whole thing, from start to finish, her turning the pages, saying nothing for a full twenty minutes.
     Then the piece was over and I remembered. I looked at her, a deep blush spreading over her cheeks, and cursed myself silently.
    You know what it is, she said.
    What? I asked her.
    You don't need me any longer, she said.
    Why not? I asked her.
    Because I can't get through that.
    Can you keep it a secret? I asked her.
    Now why would I do that? she asked.
    Because I want you to stay, I was thinking, because he wants you to stay.
    Because you need the money, I said, shooting in the dark.
    She smiled, embarrassed, and I realised that I was right.
    Because I need you to listen, I said. If you didn't teach me, I wouldn't play.
    She said nothing and the smile slowly faded.
    That was a fluke, I said, growing desperate. Then she stood up.
    Please, I said, and I grabbed her hand to stop her. My arm was across her stomach. She placed her other hand over mine and
     held it, warmly, kneading the fingers. I felt a deep blush flooding my cheeks, but she didn't seem to notice.
    I could hear Maisie moving around upstairs. Rose's fingers kept that ripple over mine and I realised we were talking about
     the lessons no longer. And slowly the blush on my face receded. She turned, took my head in her hands and kissed me on the
     cheek.
    Don't worry Donal, she said. I'm going nowhere. Anyways, I can't afford to. I stayed still, feeling her lips close, her breath
     on my cheek and wondering what I would have done if she had been Mouse.
    You can teach me, she said, hardly moving a muscle. I could hear Maisie's feet coming down the stairs