shadowlands

last night was rufus at the waterfront. it was a beautiful, stunning experience. my two colleagues i had in tow are now committed fans. we had wonderful seats and when rufus sat at the piano we had an uninterrupeted view almost straight on at the same level. we got to look into his face as he sang. amazing. last night of the tour. a two hour set. 2 encores. 3 standing ovations.

but. . .

the evening was tinged with a surreal state of shock. but for that we have to rewind a few hours.

when one of the aforementioned colleagues was made redundant an hour before we left the office to go on our girls night out one knew the night would be bittersweet. i assumed that this was the bad news of the day and we shared a drunken dinner in solidarity and had the kind of conversation that women know how to have best.

five minutes before rufus came on stage i headed back a few rows to greet my chum ricky. and here came shock number two. but to understand that we need to go back several days.

on sunday evening an american backpacker died in suspicious circumstances. possibly fell from a window at her hostel. a post mortem on monday. then a murder investigation. the only witness became chief suspect and was then released without charge. i had heard brief reference on local radio but had not been following the case. i had passed the scene on monday entirely unawares and had merely looked with curioisity at the police cordon.

what had passed me by entirely for two days was that this backpacker was known to me. for that we need to rewind back to the last friday in april.

ricky and i went to qft. we joined phil and a couple of girls he had met the night before at an art exhibition. the five us watched a wonderful argentinian film, el nina santa, together and spent the rest of the night in Duke's drinking guinness and having the kind of conversation you can have with strangers but rarely have with friends - spiked with confession and honesty. we laughed a lot. we engaged. mike joined us later in the evening. these two girls: ashly, 29, american, and hayley, 21, australian both remarked what an amazing community ricky, phil and i seemed to be a part of. they liked belfast. or more accurately, they liked the openess and warmth of the people. since then the boys have hung out with them. phil and ashly had clearly hit it off. connected.

ashly is now dead.

ricky just assumed i had heard on the grapevine or seen her name in the papers. i hadn't.
we intertwined our fingers as i sat . . .well . . . stunned. . .speechless. all i could do was hug his sad frame fiercely and say, i can't believe i didn't know. as if somehow i was guilty in my lack of awareness and thus had not been able to be present to these dear friends.

this morning i walked down the street where ashly died listening to ryan adams' shadowlands.

it's hard to grieve for someone you met just once even though you know intimate details of their lifestory that you don't even know about your closest friends. i grieve for her family and friends, for hayley who is so far from home, for ricky and for phil. he's in a bad way ricky says.


this is a small city. and our lives are inextricably intertwined.

you see, if michael were telling this tale he would take you back a week or two to a courthouse where he encountered a woman who on sunday was to be the only witness to ashly's death.

if my soon to be redundant colleague told you the tale she would take you back to sunday night, when she cried for her friends, who own a backpacker's hostel, which had been shattered by the unexpected death of a young guest.

when rufus sang cohen's hallelujah, i believed again. and last night through tears i prayed for the first time in a very long time,

for her. for them. for me.

x.