Rosie: Why?
Alex: Because I thought you’d come over here and kill me.
Rosie: Why?
Alex: Because you think she’s a slut and that she’s no good for me
Rosie: Why?
Alex: Because you’re my overprotective best friend and you’ve always hated my girlfriends (and wife) and I’ve always hated your boyfriends (and husband).
Rosie: Why?
Alex: Well because he had an affair, for one . . .
Rosie: Why?
Alex: Because he was an absolute fool and he didn’t no how lucky he was. But let’s not talk about him anymore because he’s gone and he’s never coming back
Rosie: Why?
Alex: Because I scared him off.
Rosie: Why?
Alex: Because I’m your best friend and I care about you.
Rosie: Why?
Alex: Because I’ve nothing better to do.
Rosie: Why?
Alex: Because it’s the unfortunate way that my life turned out, whatever happened made me care about you and yours. Anyway it’s great that I don’t have to hide anymore.
Rosie: Why?
Alex: Because I’ve apologized.
Rosie: Why?
Alex: Because I’m tired of not hearing from you and I miss you.
Rosie: Why?
Alex: Because (and I’m now saying this through incredibly gritted teeth). You. Are. My. Best. Friend. But I have to warn you, I’m not going to listen to any of your bitchy remarks about her this time round.
Rosie: Why?
Alex: Because I really like her Rosie and she makes me happy. I feel like the little boy working in Dad’s office again. And just think, if it wasn’t for you getting so drunk on your sixteenth birthday that you had to get your stomach pumped, we never would have been caught, we wouldn’t have been suspended, and I wouldn’t have been punished so severely by having to file every piece of paper in the world in Dad’s office where I might add, I would never have met Bethany. So it’s all down to you my dear friend!
Rosie: OH WHYYYYYY??? Dear god, oh why?
Alex: Ha ha. I better go now because I’ve got surgery in a few hours.
Rosie: Why?
Alex: Because I happen to be a cardiac surgeon and there’s a poor man, called Mr. Jackson if you really must no, who needs aortic valve surgery.
Rosie: Why?
Alex: Because he has aortic stenosis.
Rosie: Why?
Alex: Well the reasons behind aortic incompetence in general are rheumatic.
Rosie: Why?
Alex: It’s due to annulo-aorto ectasia, endocarditis, and aortitis among others. But don’t worry (because I no that you are), Mr. Jackson will be fine.
Rosie: Why?
Alex: Because thankfully due to 75 years of studying I have learned an operation involving the ball valve prosthesis which will help him.
Rosie: Why?
Alex: Oh Rosie . . . OK but you asked . . . it will help him because after induction of circulatory support by extra corporeal circulation, cooling of the patient and heart, the aorta is x-clamped and the aorta valve exposed after the aorta is opened.
Rosie: Why?
Alex: So the aorta valve can be examined and excised for the aortic valve replacement. So then the sizing of the aortic annulus is done by a valve sizer.
Rosie: Why?
Alex: To help select the size of the aortic valve prosthesis. Then the valve sutures are placed into the aortic valve annulus and into the heart valve prosthesis.
Rosie: Why?
Alex: To tie the valve prosthesis secure into the valve annulus of course. So then the artificial heart valve is in place, the aorta is closed by a running suture, the heart is de-aired and the operation is finished. And Mr. Jackson will be a healthy man. Any more questions?
Rosie: The aorta, it’s in, like, the heart, right?
Alex: Very funny Rosie. OK I’m really going this time; I’m really glad we had this discussion and that we’ve cleared the whole Bethany thing right up. So I’m forgiven.
Rosie: No.
Alex: Great stuff, thanks. Speak to you soon.
Alex has logged off
Rosie: Thanks for asking about my job, Doctor.
FROM:Rosie
TO:Ruby
SUBJECT:Help!
Help . . . (Meek feeble little voice) Help me . . . Oh dear, my head. My poor, poor head. My even poorer brain cells, they never even had a chance, they’re gone. Dead. The pain and suffering my mind and body experience right now is pure torture. I pray that the end is nigh, let me see the light so that I may follow thee . . . It’s 4 o’clock in the afternoon and I am bedridden (not exactly half as much fun as it sounds) and bed is where I shall stay for the remainder of my years. Good-bye world, farewell all, thanks for the memories.
And of the ones remaining from last night I shall try to explain to you exactly what I got up to, although there seems to be a heavy mist working its way in from the edges of my brain toward the center. I’ll try to get it all out before I’m surrounded in fuzziness.
After you threw me out of your house in your mad rush to get to last-minute dance lessons I sat at the bus stop for AN HOUR and waited for the bloody bus to turn up. Honestly Ruby I strongly urge you to think of investing in a fireman’s pole for your home so that when Ricardo calls you for one of your emergency dance lessons you can press the panic button of your alarm, slide down the pole, and dive into your mini-mobile, remembering to blare salsa music as a warning for all traffic who dare obstruct the urgent call of hip movement. Next time you invite me out on a “girls’ night in” though I’ll be careful not to spend my meager amounts of money on booze. So me and my two off-license bags waited at the bus stop and I began to work my way through one of them (out of pure boredom of course). Anyway eventually I arrived at Brian the Whine’s house and he informed me as he opened the front door that he had given Katie permission to stay at Toby’s house for the night (which by the way really annoyed me because I’m the one who usually tells her what she can and cannot do).
So I started to explain that to him in the hall but I stopped when his face moved uncomfortably close to mine and hovered so near we were practically nose to nose. Well I can tell you now that my heart beat wildly at the thought he was going to kiss me. It beat wildly with fear and disgust by the way, due to the thought that perhaps Brian the Whine would take advantage of a slightly pissed woman, I had visions of a horrifying repeat of when we were eighteen years old at the school dance, then of me being pregnant with Brian the Whine kid number two. But when he started to sniff around my face like he was a dog deciding whether to piss on me or not, I strangely stopped worrying. (Perhaps that’s when I should have started?)
Anyway he only ended up asking me if I was drunk and of course I told him that it was absolutely none of his business whether I was or not, I was a grown woman, had raised a daughter all on my own with absolutely no help from him or his family (it always gets back to that fact every time), that it was Saturday night and I could do whatever the hell I wanted, like dance around the street naked without having to answer to him (why I chose that as an example I don’t know but I was just pissed off that I had to come back to his house and explain to him details of my own life when he shouldn’t have to know). As I shouted all this at him I was waving my arms around wildly and the two bags of bottles and cans were clinking together nicely, kind of like background music to my rant.
Of course he looked at me like I was a crazy person that had ten heads (and at this stage from my view he did have ten heads) and said he didn’t give a damn whether I was drunk or not, he just wanted to let me know that his parents were in the living room and they had come over to discuss getting to know Katie and me. He presumed I wouldn’t want to meet them for the first time drunk. That’s all.
Well.
While it was thoughtful of him to inform me of their presence (and to send Katie over to Toby’s house while we discussed it), I stood in th
e hall in shock for quite a while. I just thought of the fact that Katie would have another set of grandparents, yet even more people in her life she had never met before. And then I became angry by that fact. And even more angry by the fact that all these years I knew who they were, they knew well who I was, they had passed me in the street on numerous occasions while I was pregnant, then again when Katie had been born, had heard the rumors that she was Brian’s child yet never bothered to make any sort of contact or give help of any kind. The last I had heard of them was that they had sold up and had moved to the sun to help heal Mrs. Whine’s arthritis.
After the anger had passed I quickly became embarrassed by the fact I had just screamed the house down at their son about my right to drink all I like on a Saturday night and dance the streets naked, while they sat in the very next room in silence listening to my every word. I could imagine them Ruby, sitting there with their noses turned up with disgust at the unemployed young single mother who had their son’s baby without anybody’s consent and drank to get drunk on the weekends. (Imagine!)
All these emotions and thoughts ran through me in a matter of seconds while Brian watched me digest the information. I slowly put my bags down (making loud clinking noises) and I entered the living room. I introduced myself in my best sober voice and shook their hands politely, thanked them for coming back to meet Katie and me but apologized that I couldn’t stay because I had made plans for the evening already and pretended as though they hadn’t already overheard what exactly they were. Well I couldn’t exactly sit down and have a serious conversation with them could I? My head was spinning and every time I spoke, my voice sounded like it was coming from the other side of the room. So I made my excuses and left. Of course I had absolutely nowhere to go so I just wandered the streets for ages and pondered my life. After a while I decided I hated it and everyone in it (I know, I know—again), and seeing as Katie was away safe for the night and Brian the Whine had company I made my way to the nearest pub and drowned my sorrows.
The bar was really awful actually, in retrospect I wouldn’t go in there if I was sober, but because I was so upset I didn’t really care. All I saw was a friendly barman and two serial killers deep in discussion at the end of the bar. There were only four of us in the entire building. So the barman saw that I was really upset and this is real film stuff, but he actually did ask me what was wrong and seemed genuinely concerned. I told him that Greg had ruined my life. (By process of elimination I reached the conclusion that it was entirely his fault.) It just all came spilling out of my mouth, Ruby, all about Alex missing the debs, Brian the Whine, having Katie, missing college, Alex getting married, meeting Greg, marrying Greg, Greg cheating on me, missing my job promotion, Greg cheating on me again . . . I told him about Greg having all those affairs while he said that he was away on conferences and because he was a bank manager I believed that he genuinely had to go to all that stuff.
So then the other two guys down the end of the bar were suddenly really interested in me, saw how upset I was, and bought me loads of drinks. They were huge guys Ruby, over six feet tall, muscles so big they looked like body builders, bald heads, one guy had a tattoo of a severed head on his forearm but they were so nice! They were really concerned, asked me loads of questions, gave me tissues when I cried, and told me I could do better than Greg. I was just really surprised Ruby, they were kind enough to drive me home and make sure I got back safely because I was in absolutely no state to walk. I pointed out Greg’s house as we passed and they seemed really interested and we all gave him the finger. Such nice guys. It just shows, you can never judge a book by its cover.
Anyway I have such a headache so I have to stop typing but last night proved to me that, at least there are some caring men in the world and they’re not just all out for themselves.
Rosie
BANK MANAGER ATTACKED IN HIS HOME
A bank manager was badly beaten in a vicious attack and €20,000 was stolen in a burglary yesterday morning. The victim was forty-three-year-old Greg Collins of AIB, Wall Road, Dublin.
The savage raid took place when Collins was awaked in the early hours of the morning by intruders in his home on Abigail Road. The two masked men broke into the victim’s home and demanded the bank manager open the bank and empty the safe. Terrified Collins put up a struggle but was punched viciously in the face by the thugs. His nose, which was healing from a previous injury, was further damaged.
A shaken Collins described how he was blindfolded and forced into their van in his pajamas.
The thugs are believed to be over six feet tall and according to Collins had the appearance of body builders. Although he didn’t see their faces he did notice a tattoo of a severed head on the arm of one thief.
The men stole i20,000 and sped off quickly leaving Collins alone at the bank beaten and dressed only in his nightwear. The gardai arrived on the scene moments after the men had left, after the alarm had been triggered.
Collins is unsure of how they knew his address. “I’m always careful to look out for anyone suspicious following me home each day but I didn’t notice anyone that night. It was the worst night of my life—an absolute nightmare,” Collins said, visibly shaken. “These thugs invaded my home and attacked me—I’m terrified.”
Collins was home alone at the time due to the recent breakup of his marriage. An investigation into the burglary was underway today but the garda in charge says it is unlikely they will catch the culprits due to a lack of leads.
If anyone has any information regarding this crime, the gardai ask that you come forward now.
Photo above: 43-year-old Greg Collins stands outside the bank and shows broken nose.
You have an instant message from: RUBY
Ruby:You see the papers today?
Rosie: Nope. I’ve given up on my star signs.
Ruby: Well may I suggest you purchase the Daily Star quickly and cast your mind back to Saturday night.
Rosie: Oh no did the paparazzi snap me coming out of the pub? Ha ha.
Ruby: Not funny Rosie, I’m referring to the men. Now quick, look at the paper.
Rosie: What? What men? What are you talking about?!
Ruby:Tabloid newspaper. Now. Quick. Go.
Rosie: OK
Rosie has logged off
FROM:Rosie
TO:Alex
SUBJECT:Today’s article
It’s me, Rosie. Check your fax machine quick! I’ve sent you over an article that was in the paper today. While you’re reading it bear in mind the story of my Saturday night out that I told you about.
Read the paper and tell me what you think. Quick! I need your advice.
FROM:Alex
TO:Rosie
SUBJECT:Re: Today’s article
Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha
CHAPTER 37
You have an instant message from: ROSIE
Rosie: Oh. My. God. Alex.
Alex: Yes Rosie?
Rosie: Are you free to chat or are you busy?
Alex: I’m just doing a bit of work but go ahead.
Rosie: My goodness, life-saving surgery on the Internet? Is there no end to your talents, Doctor?
Alex: Apparently not. What’s the “oh my god Alex” all about?
Rosie: Oh yeah, you will NOT believe what came through Brian the Whine’s door this morning!
Alex: A brick.
Rosie: No!
Alex: A warrant for your arrest.
Rosie: No! Don’t say that! Why would you say that?
Alex: Oh no reason in particular, I was just wondering what the sentence is for people who hire other people to beat up and terrorize their ex-husbands. Hmm . . .
Rosie: Alex Stewart, stop that talk right now! It’s dangerous to say things like that over the computer you know and I did not to do that!
Alex: You’re right the gardai are probably on a stakeout righ
t now across the road, watching your every move through a pair of binoculars.
Rosie: Stop Alex, you’re freaking me out. I did nothing wrong, the only thing I am guilty of is a bit of naivete, that’s all.
Alex: A bit? You think those “serial-killer-looking guys” are usually as friendly to lone women in pubs as they were to you?
Rosie: Look, I was drunk, my suspicions were at an all-time low, and my guard was down. In fact, I had no guard. Stupid, I know but I’m still alive so let’s not keep telling me how foolish I was. Anyway as it turns out they were caring guys. It just so happens that when I came downstairs this morning there was a brown package on the kitchen table with my name on it. Inside was €5,000, can you believe it?! And you said they weren’t caring!
Alex: Well, what happened to the other €15,000? It was hardly split three ways, was it. I think they got a bit of a bargain there Rosie.
Rosie: Oh ha ha.
Alex: Well every crime boss must get some sort of percentage.
Rosie: I am not a crime boss! It was an accident.
Alex: Was there a note inside, or a little thank-you card maybe?
Rosie: Alex do you not take anything seriously? No there wasn’t any note so it may not even be from them.
Alex: Rosie, a brown package appeared on your kitchen table overnight with €5,000 inside. Unless the postman has a key to your front door I think we can presume it was them.
Rosie: So what will I tell the gardai?
Alex: You’re not keeping the money?
Rosie: Alex, I have a 13-year-old daughter, I do not think keeping knowledge of a bank robbery (as well as some of the money) is exactly the wisest thing to do. Plus, believe it or not I have a conscience.
Alex: Well usually I would agree with the telling the truth theory and abiding by the rules but this time around I think you should keep your mouth shut.
First those guys no you are the only person who nos anything about this, they no where you live, can enter your home in the middle of the night without disturbing the neighbors or anyone else inside.