When You Wake up and Scream

"I'm away out, Mary."

Naoise was pulling her shoes on as she spoke. Mary barely looked up from her books.

"All right." she replied.

"How's your essay coming along?"

"It would be coming along a lot better if I didn't have to do it before six o'clock tonight."

"Well, you have had two weeks to do it."

"I know."

"But you chose to get drunk instead."

"I know."

Naoise laughed.

"That's it, Mary. No regrets."

Naoise went out of the dorm and down into the grounds, making her way to the street beyond. She was enjoying the fact that the tables had turned, and it was Mary buried up to her ears in books and herself who was going out with a bit of freedom. She was walking down a smaller side street full of shops when she saw that there was a bit of activity up ahead, and she wondered what was going on as she approached.

"I should have known." she muttered, as she saw that the source of the commotion was, in fact, a severely intoxicated Conán, who was pinned against the wall by two Garda officers and in the middle of protesting loudly and laughing.

"I'm fine," he was saying, as Naoise got close enough to interpret his drunken slurs.

"I don’t think you are, young man." one of the officers said tersely. "Now I'll ask you one more time. Where do you live?"

"Somewhere around here," Conán looked around himself. "I think."

"If you don’t tell us your address you're going to have to come with us for being drunk and disorderly."

"I'm not drunk!" Conán protested, but the Garda officers letting go of him promptly proved him wrong. He collapsed to the floor in a drunken heap. Naoise winced. "OK, so perhaps I'm moderately intoxicated," he added, sniggering. He tried to get up and fell again, swearing loudly.

"That's it, son, you're coming with us."

"No!" Naoise interrupted at this point. "Look, I know him," she told them.

"You do?"

"Yes, I'll bring him home, I know where he lives." Naoise was lying, as she didn’t have a clue where Conán lived or even if he had a place to live, but she didn’t want him going and getting himself arrested.

Conán had recognised her voice and turned from where he was dragging himself back to his feet, using the wall as a support.

"NAOISE!" he yelled enthusiastically. "Yeah, she knows me, you know? She luuurves me!"

Naoise rolled her eyes.

"I don’t love him." she told the Garda officers. "I just have the misfortune of knowing him."

"As long as you take him off our hands and get him out of sight you can do what you like with him." one of the officers said.

"Ooh-er!" Conán sniggered, and everyone looked at him with raised eyebrows. He just carried on sniggering, though he nearly fell over again in the process.

Naoise walked over to him and grabbed his arm, putting it around her shoulder to hold him up.

"Come on," she told him. "Before you get yourself into even more trouble."

She half-carried, half-dragged him up the street, while he gradually became quieter and quieter. He was nearly asleep by the time she pushed him down into a chair in a discreet corner of Starbucks.

'Sit here and don't cause any bother.' she told him. He didn't reply; by this point he seemed to be coming down from the alcohol and was getting tired. He was asleep when she got back with a strong coffee to sober him up. She watched him for a moment, thinking about how vulnerable he looked when he slept. He looked a lot younger when he was sleeping, and he almost had the look that made her want to hug him and look after him and protect him. She rolled her eyes. He was old enough now to look after himself!

But then she remembered everything he had told her about his childhood. He'd never had anyone to care for him – he's been alone his entire life. Thinking this, she gave him a gentle nudge and watched as his dark eyes flickered open.

"Drink that." she told him gently. "It'll sober you up."

Conán managed to drink the coffee without spilling too much down himself, and began to look more alert as the caffeine hit him.

"Whoah," he muttered, holding his head and blinking a few times, before his eyes finally focused on Naoise. "You!" he burst out. Naoise looked up from a magazine she had picked up from the table in the corner and raised her eyebrows, sipping her coffee.

"What about me?"

"You saved my ass."

"I couldn't just stand there and let you get arrested. God knows what trouble you would have gotten yourself into at the police station."

Conán thought about the money he had in his jacket and the drugs he still hadn't gotten rid of. He also thought about the inevitable search of his flat when the police found the drugs and of the body hidden in the freezer. Naoise didn't know how grateful he actually was towards her.

"Well, er … thanks." he said. "It means a lot, especially after what a git I was to you last time I saw you."

"Forgive and forget." Naoise shrugged, turning a page in her magazine.

"How's your essay coming along?" Conán asked suddenly, and Naoise looked up at him again, in surprise.

"It's – yeah, it's good, thanks."

"Why so surprised?"

"Just surprised that you remembered about it."

"I do listen, you know. It doesn't always seem like it, but I do."

Naoise smiled.

"I guess you're not all bad, then. So, what happened today?"

"Whiskey and I had a disagreement." Conán said seriously. "I was sitting there going, 'No, Whiskey! I will not drink anymore of you!' and Whiskey said, 'Yes, Conán, you will! Drink me! Drink me!' and it went from there. I tried to resist, but that guy's persuasive."

Naoise laughed.

"I'm sure that's exactly what happened."

"It is, you know. I'm in an abusive relationship."

"You could say that. You shouldn't drink so heavily. Your liver's probably a black, gunky mess after that."

"Livers are evil, Naoise, and they must be punished." Conán repeated his motto from earlier, shrugging. He still sounded a little drunk, but it was wearing off quickly.

"Why did the police stop you?"

"I don’t know. Probably because I couldn't walk in a straight line." Conán sniggered at the memory. "I bet I made a complete tard of myself."

"Basically, yes." Naoise said, laughing as well. "Oh well. Such is the wonder of drink."

"So, little missy, are you so innocent that you don't drink?"

"Me? Hell no. I've been drunk as a skunk more times than I can count."

"That's good."

"Why?"

"Because if you didn't drink, I'm afraid I would have to suggest that we didn't talk for a while."

Naoise pretended to look hurt.

"Awh, don’t say that, Conán, you're my only friend."

Conán put his hands up in front of him.

"I'm sorry, Naoise, but that's the way it would have to be."

"I'm sure I would live." Naoise grinned.

"Cheeky cow." Conán smirked, and Naoise tried to hit him around the side of the head but he dived neatly out of the way and grabbed her arms, practically pulling her over the table. She shrieked and Conán laughed, before Naoise seized her opportunity and managed to hit him around the back of the head. Grinning triumphantly, she screamed again as Conán dived for her and for a few seconds they ran around the table after one another in an immature fashion, until they were told by a tight-lipped worker that, if they were finished, they should get out and give the other customers some peace. Naoise laughed when they were out on the street in the light of the setting sun.

"That's the fist time I've ever been kicked out of a place." she giggled, and Conán looked at her in awe.

"Are you being serious?" he asked. "I've lost count of all of the times I've been kicked out of a place."

"That's because you smell like an old fart." Naoise told him cheekily, and Conán leapt at her again. She screamed and ran, Conán hot on her heels. Conán was quick and easily caught up with her, grabbing her and forcing her into a stop.

"What are you going to do now, eh?" he asked. "I've got you caught now!"

"Only because these aren't my running shoes." Naoise replied, grinning.

"Still going to say I smell like an old fart?"

"Yes."

"Well, you're asking for it now." Conán winked, and he suddenly lifted her up over his shoulder. Upside-down, Naoise was caught between screams and laughter as Conán ran down the street with her, both of them earning strange looks and muttering about kids today from passers-by.

Eventually, Conán put Naoise back down onto her feet, and, still laughing, she tried to smooth down her windswept hair as best as possible.

"So where have you taken me, Mr. Kidnapper?" she asked, looking around as she realised they weren't on the main streets anymore.

"Just a place I like to come often." Conán winked. Naoise looked behind her.

"A pub." she laughed. "I should have known."

"Come on, I'll treat you." Conán took her hand and pulled her in and over to the bar.

"Do you have the money?"

"Of course I do! I struck oil."

Naoise laughed as he got them both a whiskey and coke.

"Cheers!" she laughed.

"First person to drink it all wins!"

"You can't chug whiskey!"

"Yes you can!"

Conán started to neck it back. Naoise had never been one to turn down a bit of competition.

"You're on!"