When it comes to being a father, I could give actual courses on the subject
RONAN CALLS AROUND to see me in Sorcha’s gaff. Lets himself in using a technique he learned from Nudger, his much older friend who’s done time for housebreaking. I’m watching Xposé on TV3 when he suddenly sticks his head around the kitchen door and goes, “Alreet, Rosser?” I laugh. He’d put you in immediately good form – he’s just that kind of kid.
I’m there, “Hey, Ro – how the hell are you?” ever the cool dad.
He’s there, “Ine grand. Here, someone’s arthur writing all over your Bim again.” He’s talking about Seanie Fitz’s old Five Serious, which the old man bought at auction and which I’m still driving around in.
“What does it say this time?” I go. It’s not the first, second or even fifth time I’ve had to get it, like, resprayed.
He’s like, “Wanker Bankers.” I shake my head. “There’s a lot of angry people out there, Ro.” I stand up. I’m like, “Do you want something to drink? Sorcha’s still buying the Tropicana, you know – you’d never know there was a recession out there from looking in our fridge.” He goes, “Er, I’ll have a beer if you’ve got one, Rosser.” I actually laugh. He’s only chancing his orm, of course. He’s only, like, 15. But then when I get out to the kitchen, I think, actually, fock it. Because they say that about the French, don’t they? They give their kids wine with their dinner from the time they’re, like, four or five years old, which is why they grow up to, like, appreciate alcohol? So I grab us both a can of the old Dutch master. I throw him his.
“Have you athin udder than this piss?” he has the actual cheek to go, staring at the famous logo.
He’s a comedian, in fairness to him.
I’m there, “Hey, if it was good enough for me at your age, it should be good enough for you. And if Sorcha walks in, by the way, you better hide it. She wouldn’t be a big fan of kids drinking. This is a girl who used to go to Wez sober, remember.” He says he doesn’t think he’ll bother arthur all.
Glenda Gilson suddenly comes on the screen and we both make the same approving noises and accompanying hand gestures. We’re both major fans.
“By the way,” I go, because it’s ages since we’ve had, like, a catch up, “how are things going with you and Shadden,” as in Shadden Tuite, his girlfriend.
He’s like, “Ah, mustood. Me ma dudn’t approve, but.” “Really? Is it because her family are riff-raff?” “No, it’s nothing like that, Rosser. She just thinks Ine spenthing too much toyum wirrer – at the expense of me school woork and that.” Of course, I know exactly where this is coming from. Tina is back seeing, dating, going out with – whatever you want to call it – Tom McGahy, Ronan’s school principal, a man who’s on the record as saying that improving the school’s general academic performance is his priority as an educator. He hates rugby – I don’t know if it’s even necessary to add that.
I’m there, “This is him, isn’t it?” “It’s the boat of thum. Thee said thee’d prefer if I just concentrated on me studies.” “Studies? You’re, like, 15.” “Ine doing me Judinior Ceert this year, Rosser.” “This year?” “Yeah.” Some father I am.
I’m like, “The Junior Cert. I mean, it’s hordly a big deal, is it? You know I didn’t pass a single exam during my entire time at school. And look at me today.” “I think that’s what me ma’s woodied about.” That actually hurts, although I try not to show it. “Well,” I go, “there’s no danger of you turning out like me, is there? You’ve got brains to basically burn.” Which is true. I might have mentioned before – of course, I did, the proud dad! – that Ronan is, like, freakishly intelligent for his age. In fact, he’s only, like, one or two IQ points away from being classed as officially gifted. He didn’t inherit it from me – I think we can all accept that.
I’m like, “You’re aceing your way through school, aren’t you?” He’s there, “Er, yeah.” “Then what’s biggie with you having a girlfriend? Don’t listen to your mother or him, Ro.” “Really?” “Really. You’re young. Look, go ahead and study if that’s the road you want to go down. Each to his own. But don’t let the fact that you’re intelligent deprive you of an actual childhood.” He nods, then his attention is suddenly snagged by Lisa Cannon. He’s my son alright.
“You’re still young,” I go. “Birds seem to love you, like they loved me – and still do, believe me. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a 100 per cent gone on the idea of you having a steady girlfriend either. I’d rather see you playing the field, using and abusing, blah blah blah. But the important thing is that you have a social life. No one has ever looked back on their school life and gone, ‘I should have studied more.’ But millions of people every day look back and go, ‘I should have portied more.’” You should see the way he looks at me. I feel like the Robin Williams character out of Dead Poets Society. I was focking useless at just about everything I ever turned my hand to in life. But when it comes to being a father, I could give actual courses on the subject.
My phone all of a sudden rings. I pick it up off the coffee table. Speak of the devil, it ends up being, like, Tina? “I, er, bethor head,” Ro goes, as soon as he finds out it’s his mother.
I’m like, “You don’t have to head off.” “Ine apposed to be in the library, doing arthur-school study.” I shake my head, all disappointed. “Do you want to take that can for the bus?” He’s like, “No, Ine grand,” and he’s out the door without saying another word.
I answer the phone. Straight away, roysh, Tina’s like, “Is Ronan dayer?” She doesn’t even try to pronounce words properly?
I end up losing it with her a bit. I’m like, “No, he’s not. And you know something, you and that boyfriend of yours could do with maybe getting off his case.” She’s like, “What?” “Just because he’s a pretty much genius, Tina, doesn’t mean he’s not entitled to a life. He’s flying through school – just cut him some slack.” Tina goes, “He failed his mocks, Ross.” For, like, 10 seconds, I think I’ve basically misheard her. “Say that again,” I end up having to go.
She’s like, “He failed his exams. Every bleaten one.”