Seamus Heaney — Station Island Part VII

I had come to the edge of the water, soothed by just looking, idling over it as if it were a clear barometer or a mirror, when his reflection did not appear but I sensed a presence entering into my concentration on not being concentrated as he spoke my name. And though I was reluctant I turned to meet his face and the shock is still in me at what I saw. His brow was blown open above the eye and blood had dried on his neck and cheek. 'Easy now,' he said, 'it's only me. You've seen men as raw after a football match . . . What time it was when I was wakened up I still don't know but I heard this knocking, knocking, and it scared me, like the phone in the small hours, so I had the sense not to put on the light but looked out from behind the curtain. I saw two customers on the doorstep and an old landrover with the doors open parked on the street so I let the curtain drop; but they must have been waiting for it to move for they shouted to come down into the shop. She started to cry then and roll round the bed, lamenting and lamenting to herself, not even asking who it was. "Is your head astray, or what's come over you?" I roared, more to bring myself to my senses than out of any real anger at her for the knocking shook me, the way they kept it up, and her whingeing and half-screeching made it worse. All the time they were shouting, "Shop! Shop!" so I pulled on my shoes and a sportscoat and went back to the window and called out, "What do you want? Could you quieten the racket or I'll not come down at all." "There's a child not well. Open up and see what you have got--pills or a powder or something in a bottle," one of them said. He stepped back off the footpath so I could see his face in the street lamp and when the other moved I knew them both. But bad and all as the knocking was, the quiet hit me worse. She was quiet herself now, lying dead still, whispering to watch out. At the bedroom door I switched on the light. "It's odd they didn't look for a chemist. Who are they anyway at this time of the night?" she asked me, with the eyes standing in her head. "I know them to see," I said, but something made me reach and squeeze her hand across the bed before I went downstairs into the aisle of the shop. I stood there, going weak in the legs. I remember the stale smell of cooked meat or something coming through as I went to open up. From then on you know as much about it as I do.' 'Did they say nothing?' 'Nothing. What would they say?' 'Were they in uniform? Not masked in any way?' 'They were barefaced as they would be in the day, shites thinking they were the be-all and the end-all.' 'Not that it is any consolation, but they were caught,' I told him, 'and got jail.' Big-limbed, decent, open-faced, he stood forgetful of everything now except whatever was welling up in his spoiled head, beginning to smile. 'You've put on weight since you did your courting in that big Austin you got the loan of on a Sunday night.' Through life and death he had hardly aged. There always was an athlete's cleanliness shining off him and except for the ravaged forehead and the blood, he was still that same rangy midfielder in a blue jersey and starched pants, the one stylist on the team, the perfect, clean, unthinkable victim. 'Forgive the way I have lived indifferent-- forgive my timid circumspect involvement,' I surprised myself by saying. 'Forgive my eye,' he said, 'all that's above my head.' And then a stun of pain seemed to go through him and he trembled like a heatwave and faded.


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