What struck him about the sky over here was how angry it seemed. The sky back home was never angry, in Ireland the sky could be sad, or it could be sullen, often it was miserable, or depressed, he’d even seen it sulk, moody at best, but it was never angry.
He looked down at the street some thirty stories below and contemplated for the hundredth time on how his life had been so casually ripped apart. They were there because of something to do with Dad’s work, an amazing opportunity! It will be so good for us!
His world before this place had been predictable, simple and satisfying, amongst the boys he was aware of his place in the pecking order, little Tommy Moynihan was the tough one, there were rumours his dad was in the ‘Ra. Then there was Johnny Keane, he was the best at football and the second best fighter after Tommy. Next, there was him, Kevin Sweeney, a good all-rounder, good at fighting and football, and due to his class clownery, popular with the girls to boot. In that world everyone had their place and Kevin relished in his.
Here though he was an outcast, the foreigner, the gaijin, it was bad enough that none of them seemed to have even heard of Ireland, let alone Rathkine, the kids simply called him English at school and he’d given up trying to explain the difference between Ireland and England.
Perhaps if he could speak a little of the language, and their English was of a higher standard he’d have a chance, however they probably had about ten common words between them that they could understand, the rest of their ‘conversations’ where usually made up of grunts, gestures and contorted facial expressions, oh and laughter, he was still the class clown but now they were laughing at him.
Dad thought he was being helpful by pointing out the difference between someone speaking Malay or another speaking Chinese, he wasn’t though, he was simply helping to mire Kevin deeper into the pit of depression in which he had sunk. To Kevin, someone speaking either language sounded like they were just making up noises using sounds that he just couldn’t come to think of as words.
The angry sky bubbled overhead, black clouds belched out of steel grey folds as they whipped along at terrific speeds, the whole scene looked like the sky was in an argument with the ground, as if to underline this thought a crack of thunder shook the foundations of the building he stood in. Whatever the ground said to the sky it can’t have been good, because now it cried floods of thick, angry rain, though Kevin wasn’t even sure this could be classed as rain.
In Ireland rain was a constant that you found irritating yet tolerated, rather like Uncle Seamus at Christmas. Rain in Ireland made you wet, rain in Kuala Lumpur soaked you through to your very soul. Kevin had truly known what it was to be drenched, his mother liked to use the term, she’d say she was drenched after being caught in the rain on the way back from Pam’s.
Twin streams of tears made their way slowly down his cheeks, his mother should be there with them, comforting him, smoothing his hair over and telling him everything would be fine. She would know exactly what to say and do to make him feel better.
Out in the gloom Kevin could just about make out the imposing twin peaks of the Petronas tower, Dad had been so enthusiastic about showing him the tower. He’d mistakenly thought that Kevin would be impressed. Back home Kevin had shown great interest in the tallest structures in the world, from the Empire State Building to the Burj Khalifa, Kevin had built up an impressive body of knowledge on all of them. Him and Dad had often talked about visiting them all one day, they talked about what they would do when they got to the top, what the view would be like, what they’d feel like.
Now though he couldn’t muster any enthusiasm over Petronas, the excitement had lain in the anticipation of going to those buildings, and then returning home to talk about them and telling all his friends about how he’d been on the roof of the world. When he looked at pictures of Khalifa or the Empire State he didn’t imagine what it would be like to live in Dubai, or New York, plus they spoke English there, so why Dad thought he’d be excited about moving to Malaysia was beyond him.
The sky blackened further, and even through the thick hotel glass Kevin could hear the heavy spatter of tropical rain drops hitting everything in its path, washing away the sins of the city, that was one thing he liked at least, the smell of damp earth and fresh air after a tropical storm. There was a certain innocence to that smell, a purity that made him feel as if he was six again, sitting on his mother’s lap, being swaddled by her arms and ample bosom.
How long could he stay in this hotel room before they came? Perhaps next week when he was due to start international school, or maybe before that, he supposed the firm that had hired Dad might start to wonder where he was, but perhaps they’ll just think him rude and won’t bother to look into it, after all, he hadn’t actually started working there yet.
Whatever the case, as much as he’d like to, he couldn’t just stand there looking out of this window forever. He tore himself from the external view, turning around to look into the room. Much as he willed it to be different, Dad still lay there, the stream of blood coming from his temple had ceased to flow and the rusty stain had pooled to a standstill.
He hadn’t meant to hurt him, an argument, shouting, screaming, crying, declarations of love, ones of hate, and then a push, a simple innocent push, no, more of a shove,
“Get away from me, I hate you!”
But he didn’t hate Dad, he was just angry, he wanted to be back in Rathkine, he just wanted to feel the Irish rain, he wanted Dad and Mum to be back together, he wanted to be six again, he wanted to hear Dad shout I’m home! He wanted to be lying in his bed with his hands clamped over his ears so he couldn’t hear his parents making love in the bedroom next door, he wanted Mary from across the street to call him a fecking eedjit, he wanted to hear Mum telling them she was drenched . . . He wanted Da alive, he just simply wanted, to be home.