Born & Bred (31 page)

He had been busy, too, with the Watchers. How could he keep an eye on his own house when he was busy keeping an eye on everyone else’s?
That’s what happens when you put others first
, he consoled himself as he seethed behind his paper. Deirdre and her mother had both insisted that she was not getting involved with Danny, but they were not telling him the whole story. He said nothing but they had all eaten the rest of their dinners in silence.

He said nothing because he couldn’t prove it, and Deirdre and her mother would demand proof. But why else was that little drug-fucker talking to his daughter? It had to have something to do with Danny and drugs and by-fuck was he going to put an end to it, once and for all. He just needed to find out what Anto and Danny were up to.

It didn’t take long. A few nights later he was sitting in the local when Jerry Boyle walked in and sat a few stools down from him. He had told Jerry that he held no grudge over what had happened before, but Jerry was still a bit leery around him.

“Come here beside me, Boyle, and I’ll get this round.”

Jerry joined him eagerly, and, after a few pints, boasted about how Danny was taking him to a football match in London, in a few weeks.

That was all he needed to hear. He could figure the rest of it himself. One of the lads had mentioned something about being amazed how young fellas were able to get tickets and go over—like it was for free. It was Maguire that had said that to him, a decent enough old skin but cursed with the spawn of the Devil for children. They were always getting into trouble. That’s why it stuck in his head.

“And are you going, too?”

“I am,” Jerry beamed back at him like the fecking eejit that he was.

CHAPTER 16

“Do you really think you should be telling everybody that Danny is taking you over to the game?” Jacinta asked as she placed his dinner on the table in front of him.

“And why wouldn’t I?” Jerry looked up from his paper.

Jacinta had heard it down at the shops. Everybody was commenting on it and some of the comments were a little bit snide. Not that that surprised her; they were just chewing on the gossip and spitting out any new juice they could find in it. Still, sometimes she wished he could keep things a bit more private.

“Because not everybody thinks well of our Danny.”

“Feck the begrudgers. Let them have a look at their own children—drunks and whores the lot of them. At least Danny is trying to turn over a new leaf. That’s probably what has them upset now.”

“I know. You’re probably right.” But she still wasn’t happy about it. And neither was Nora. She had made that very clear to Jacinta. In fact she was against the whole thing.

“I had a call from Martin today.”

“What time was it where he was calling from?”

“I’m not sure. It’s five hours, but I can’t remember which way.”

“What did he have to say for himself?” Jerry had gotten over the whole thing with the will and was feeling very magnanimous toward the world in general, even toward his brother-in-law.

“Well I’d been saving this so I could tell you when the time was right.”

“What have you done now?” He was joking, only he wasn’t sure if she could tell. They still, after all the years, and all that happened, hadn’t worked that one out.

“Martin is after making all the arrangements for Danny to move to Canada—at least until all this drugs stuff is over.”

“And when were you going to get around to fecking telling me, the boy’s one and only father? Or do you agree with my mother—that I’m not fit to look after my own son?”

He didn’t mean to sound like was getting a bit riled but she seemed like she didn’t notice and answered in the same calm voice.

“Nora wouldn’t say that about you anymore. She’s changed. She also said that she’s okay with Danny going to Canada. She wasn’t at first but now she has come around to the idea. She thinks it’s what’s best for him.”

He stared at her simple, open face and remembered the way she looked at him the first time they talked. He couldn’t help himself and rose and took her into his arms. He was losing her to the darkness again and soon she’d be packed back off to the hospital.

All of this business with Danny was too much for her. She’d always been simple from the beginning—from the day he first went into the tea shop where she worked. He had gone on his own, his university scarf draping down one side and his breath, beery.

**

“What can I get you?” she had asked as he hovered near the counter, letting everyone go before him.

“I’m grand, actually. It’s you I’ve come to see.”

“What for?”

“What time do you get off work?”

“Not for a few hours yet. Why?”

He looked around to make sure no one was listening. “‘Cos I wanted to ask you something.”

She looked like she already knew what he was going to say but was still anxious to hear it.

“Would you ever consider going out with me sometime?”

“I might. Where do you want to go?”

“We could go to the pictures.”

They went to see
Rebel without a Cause
and she cried at the end when poor old Plato got himself killed. He even got to put his arm around her and when her sniveling turned to shivering, gave her his scarf. She kept it and still had it somewhere.

He also remembered something else: the night at the dance and the fumbling and the stumbling in the lane out back. He had to coax her with glasses of Babycham and his educated assurance that no one ever gets pregnant the first time.

He also remembered the sinking feeling in his stomach the day she told him she was.

“What are we going to do?”

Jerry had no idea but wanted to sound like he did. He didn’t really love her but he did feel responsible.

“We’ll be fine; just let me figure out how to deal with it.”

“Deal with it? What do you mean by that Jerry? You’re not thinking of sending me off to England?”

“No, of course I wasn’t,” Jerry lied and tried to think. It didn’t matter which way he decided; he’d have to tell his parents. He had no money of his own.

His father had blustered and fumed for a while until he was sure there’d be no taint of scandal. Other than that, he wasn’t too concerned. His son was a damn fool and Jacinta was no smarter—they’d make a grand match for each other.

After all, it was, as his mother crisply remarked, not unheard of for a young woman to throw herself at a young man when the chance came to climb up a few rungs.

After the shock, they were quite pragmatic and began to make plans for a wedding, even meeting with Jacinta’s parents and suppressing any feelings they might have had that it was her fault—for trapping him.

“A wedding?” Jerry had nodded along with them as any faint hope he had of shipping Jacinta off to England, so that he could go on with his life, floated away.

“Of course, a wedding,” his mother snorted. “Having bastards might be good enough for kings and popes but it’s not good enough for this family.”

“You’ll find,” his father confided in him a few nights later, in the pub, “that one woman is very much like another. And I’m sure from their point of view the same is true about men. There’s no reasons why you and your wife cannot go on and be as happy as the next pair.”

***

“And when, exactly, was it that you were talking with my mother?” He held her away at arm’s length so he could see her eyes.

“I talk to her every day, down in the church, by the side altar.”

He could see she was cracked, again, but sending Danny to Canada was as good as anything he had come up with. He hadn’t heard back from the ruddy-faced man and it might be for the better if Danny was out of the way for a while. But he also thought about going to see Fr. Reilly to ask if he should be worried about Jacinta and her chats with his mother. There was probably nothing to worry about, but still he did.

*

Miriam had no idea how to get ready for a date but she couldn’t bring herself to ask Deirdre.

Secretly, she hoped she might have offered. She’d told her that she was thinking of going out with her American but Deirdre seemed preoccupied. Things with Danny didn’t seem to be going so well, but as Deirdre hadn’t brought it up, neither did Miriam. Deirdre would tell her when she was ready.

She tried her suit and checked with her reflection but it was still wrong. It was one of the first things she’d bought, but now it didn’t say what she thought it had said. In fact it made her look a bit “Thatchery.”

She wanted to look like she felt: an ex-nun who was getting out of her shell and meeting someone.

She was friends with most of her colleagues—or at least those who accepted her; mostly the younger women and the more sensitive men. They were the ones who identified with her rebellion. They were in the minority but they made up for it with their unflagging enthusiasm every time she did something un-nun-like. Like when she accepted their invites to parties, and social events, too. She was becoming a bit of a cause-celeb—and a bit of a freak show.

It was good, at first, being able to socialize with people who could see her just for what she was, and not for what she used to be. But it was only a matter of time before the whispers of her fall from the veil spread around the room like an odor, heady to some and distasteful to others.

She just wanted to be Miriam again—even if it was a much older version than she remembered being.

I just want to be with someone who is okay with me and what I have been through
, she confided to the picture frame on the table beside her bed.

One of her single friends had told her to do it—to get a picture of her best friend in the world and keep it beside her bed. That way she would always have someone to say goodnight to.

Her brother’s face smiled back. It was an older photo of him, taken when he was coaching a bunch of scraggly looking kids that made up an inner-city parish’s baseball team. He knew nothing about the game and swung his bat like a hurley. But in the picture he looked so . . . American.

I’m all alone, Joe, in the “Island of a Thousand Welcomes!”

And the family, those that are still in the country—the lumpier, stodgier ones—are always far too busy to be seen with the likes of me.

Joe didn’t answer and just stared out of the dugout with his bat over his shoulder and a long slender stalk of grass in his mouth. But she felt reassured.

The worst part of it all
, she continued, knowing that he would sit and listen without interruption,
is that I don’t like the person I am without the veil.

You might be shocked to learn that. I certainly was. But you see, back then I was confident. I knew where I stood and I never had to worry about how I looked and what I wore. There are so many mornings, she paused to blink back a tear and sipped wine from the large glass she usually drank her orange juice from—she really had to get organized and buy a few more things for the flat—
that I wish I could just put on the same thing, day in and day out.

Someone should have warned me, you know? Danger! Entering the convent can compromise your ability to ever become a woman again.

Still Joe didn’t answer and just looked past her with his big smile and determined chin.

But then again you’d probably say that it’s just like learning to ride a bike—with training wheels. I am a thirty-six-year-old-virgin. I have to start with someone.

She changed again and paused to consider her lipstick. It was far too evocative even though the girl who sold it to her assured her that is was mute.

It was compared to the other ones she had tried to sell her.

**

“Look,” Miriam had almost snapped when she lost patience with the girl. “I used to be a nun.”

“Well then you might like something dark, like this one.”

She held up something that you might wear if you were dating a vampire so Miriam just pointed at the dullest red she could find. “That one will be fine.”

“If you were going out with a priest,” the girl muttered as she turned to the cash register.

She smiled when she turned back and held out the change and waited. “But it will look great with your complexion, and your dark eyes.”

“Thanks, and keep the change,” Miriam answered distractedly. She had never really thought about her complexion in ages.

***

I hope I’m not shocking you?

She leaned closer to the mirror to try and get her lipstick right but glanced at the reflection of the picture, to see if he’d answer. But Joe’s flipped smile didn’t flicker.

You’re the one I blame, you know. You and all that idealism you once had. It was like a fire that spread to everyone around you.

She sat back on her bed and picked up the picture.
Joe? Does it still burn inside you?

He didn’t answer and she knew she shouldn’t have asked. It wasn’t fair of her. He had made his choice just as she had made hers. He was going to stay and try to change things from within.

They agreed to disagree even though he made a point of being seen with her through the worst of what happened. She would always love him for that and she would forgive him anything.

I forgive you Joe. I forgive you for having more strength and faith than I did. And now I’m going to use what little strength I have to try being a woman while I still can. Wish me luck
?

She placed the picture back on the nightstand where she could see it from her pillow.

She rose and straightened herself out. She wore a black skirt to her knees and a loose blouse that made her look nice, but not too nice. She wore dark tights, too, and a pair of shoes she had bought that morning. They had heels, but they weren’t too high, not compared to what other women wore.

She had makeup on, too. Not too much, just a little around her eyes and her cheeks. Her pimples were long gone but they had left a few pock marks on her face. They were tiny when she was in the convent but since she left, they seemed to be growing like craters.