A Village Voice

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by Brian Martin


  They had a little chit chat about the family and the funeral and then Noreen got right down to business.

  “Anyway, I got this letter from your Uncle Jim. He apparently left instructions for someone to post this if anything happened to him and we were still separated.”

  Separated, they weren’t separated, that sounded like a legal term, as in we are not divorced yet just separated. Brian didn’t think of them that way. They just had a fight and she had gone home to her mother in order to calm down. Focus on what she is saying, this is important, he thought.

  Noreen continued, “Jim said in his letter that you really felt bad about everything and that it was all a misunderstanding. He said that although he could not give any details he knew that you were not unfaithful to me, that you had something you needed to do for the family and that you could not talk about it, but that you definitely had not been with someone else. You had lied in order to get me away from what could have been a bad situation. He said that if I was reading the letter that meant that he had passed away and that with his passing any problems there might have been had gone away. He said there was no reason for us to be apart, that he knew you loved me and that you had done everything you could to protect me and your family and that I should be with you, that I should trust you and not insist that you explain. That we had the rest of our lives to be happy, to look forward and not look back.”

  She paused and took a breath.

  Brian told her that after Jim’s funeral, his cousin Mike had mentioned the letter and that he had planned on contacting her as soon as he got back. He told her that it was true, that he had lied to her about the cheating in order to get her away and that he had figured she would go back to Ireland.

  “Oh for God’s sake, what did you get yourself mixed up in?”

  He told her it was something involving his family and that it was serious and that they could never talk about it. He told her that he loved her more than anything in the world, loved her so much that he risked losing her to make sure she was safe. He told her that he thought everything would be alright now and that they could be together and that they should be together.

  “So hold on now. You weren’t with anyone else and you mean to tell me that you haven’t been with anyone else since we separated?”

  Ah Jesus, he thought, stop saying separated.

  “No,” he said, “No, I didn’t and no I have not been.”

  “And you think that after you lied to me and caused all this trouble and got involved in God’s knows what, I should just take you back?”

  “Well, yes, that’s what I’m hoping for. That’s why I moved over here to try and persuade you to forgive me. I am really, truly, sorry for all this,” he said.

  “And it will never ever happen again,” she said looking him straight in the eye.

  “No, never again,” he replied.

  “If you can’t tell me about it, then just don’t do it, right?”

  “Yes,” he said. If only life was that simple, he thought.

  “Well, this is bloody awkward now and it’s all your fault. You probably know I have been with Tim?”

  “Yes, I know, I understand,” he said.

  “Yes, well that’s mighty big of you. Anyway, it’s best to start with a clean slate if we’re going to try again.”

  This was going in the right direction, stay calm, let her talk, don’t say anything stupid, be quiet and supportive, look penitent but happy to be forgiven, he thought. He wanted to smile, he wanted to jump up and kiss her. Too soon, don’t smile yet and for God’s sake, don’t grin.

  “What in the name of God are you grinning at?”

  “God no, um, I’m just so happy that you’re here and that we’re here together.”

  “Are you sure that you have not been with anyone else? You need to tell me now. I could not deal with another lie.”

  “No, seriously, no one else.”

  “I find that hard to believe.”

  “I wanted us to get back together and I thought that someday we might have this conversation and I wanted to be able to say that I have not been with anyone and that I don’t want to be with anyone but you.”

  “Well, that’s good, at least. Listen, while we are setting the record straight, when I first got over here I went on a short holiday to Spain.”

  He stopped grinning.

  “I met someone, some English fellow on the last night.”

  “A bloody Brit.”

  “We didn’t discuss politics. Anyway, he had an Irish granny.”

  “Don’t they all.”

  Stay cool, it’s okay. Just nod and say you understand, he reasoned with himself.

  “Well, technically speaking, I suppose, that means you owe me two.”

  “Don’t you dare even think it. This was all your…”

  “Wait, wait, I’m kidding, I’m just kidding. It’s me, remember, bad jokes at awkward moments. Seriously though, given all that has happened I think we should go somewhere right now and have some time alone so we can put this all behind us. We could make up properly.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, really, it would be just the thing for us.”

  “I suppose you want to take me back to whatever kip (dive) you are living in?”

  “It’s not so bad.”

  God, it was a kip. He could suggest a hotel. Would that sound right?

  “I am not going back to your place, mister.”

  He didn’t like the sound of the mister.

  “I have a room at the Burlington and against my better judgment I will bring you back there on one condition.”

  “Anything,” he replied without thinking.

  “You need to promise me that, at least once, before the morning, the management will threaten to throw us out of the place for disorderly conduct. Are you with me there, Al Capone?”

  Decisions, decisions. This was the easiest one of his life.

  “Always,” he replied.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Charlotte, North Carolina/New York, 1989/1990

  They spent two glorious days and nights at the hotel. Noreen phoned her parents and explained that they were back together and that the whole thing had been a terrible misunderstanding. They decided to move back to the States but to try a different city in a different part of the country. As it turned out, Pete from his old office in New York had been transferred to Charlotte, North Carolina. He got in touch, and he was able to get Brian a position with his group down there. He had never been anywhere in the South but he had to say he really liked Charlotte when they moved there. Nice weather, friendly people, affordable housing. Noreen had no trouble finding a nursing job. His New York relatives thought he had gone crazy, but they put it down to itchy feet and a young man’s desire to see the world. For them, North Carolina may as well have been Tahiti. They settled into their new life and within a year Noreen was pregnant. The birth of his son was the most amazing experience of his life. Nothing could beat the feeling of pure joy he got when they handed his son to him to hold for the first time. His son was perfect, Noreen was fine, everything was perfect.

  His dad got a great kick out of Brian’s son being fair like his mother. He laughed about the end of the black Irish. He worried a little bit about having a grandson with a Southern accent. Brian assured him that his grandson would not call him granpaw and that Brian would not allow grits in the house. Brian told him that if his son ever came home and said ‘I’m a fixin’, he would pack him off to military school in the North (the one he had always been threatened with). He laughed and remembered that the threat of it had kept him in line for years.

  As is usually the case in life, the great circle moved around and they went from a period of great happiness to one of deep sadness. Less than a year later, Sean Flanagan was told he had liver cancer and that it had spread. They gave him three months and he got two. He was incredibly brave about it all and never complained about the situation. He reserved his complaints for the food, the nu
rses, the way the hospital was organized, his bed, etc. He drove them crazy and flirted with the young nurses right until the end. Brian never did ask him about the guns. Brian was not sure if his dad would have told him anyway and it seemed like some things were just better left to the past.

  His dad’s funeral was a lot smaller than Uncle Jim’s had been. Noreen had stayed in Charlotte with their son Liam (a solid Irish name), who had been running a slight fever and was still a bit young for a plane ride. He didn’t mind them not coming. He wanted his son’s first trip to New York to be a special, happy event for him, something they could all remember. They had the wake down in the Village and the funeral mass at St Joseph’s, just family and some old friends of his from the docks and from the neighborhood. A couple of the guys from NORAID (Northern Ireland Aid) showed up at the wake and told him that they were sorry for his trouble, which is what a lot of Irish people say at wakes. An old family friend, a friend of his grandfather’s, Pat Whelan, showed up and insisted on having a quiet drink with him. Brian knew that Pat had worked with his grandfather on the docks back in the day and that Pat had moved out to Long Island years ago. The families had kept in touch and Brian remembered going out on what seemed an endless train ride to visit the Whelans a couple of times when they were kids. Pat had a grandson his age who had gone to law school and was with a big firm in the city. In fact, Brian thought all Pat’s grandchildren had done well, not unlike the Flanagans. Pat maneuvered him to a quiet corner and with a glass of Jameson in hand he said,

  “I want to drink a toast to your father, Brian. I knew him, man and boy, and his father before him.”

  “Sláinte,” he said, and they clinked glasses.

  “Brian, as you know your grandfather and I were old friends. I helped to show him the ropes when he was a fresh faced lad just off the boat. He worked hard all his life, as did your father, to make a better life for his children. I want you to understand and appreciate their sacrifice because I think it was particularly hard for men like them to lead the lives they led. At the back of it all, both of them were dreamers, idealists, men who believed in something greater than themselves. A cause, a dream, freedom, rights for the working man. I suppose the world needs men like that, they inspire us. But the world also needs practical men, men who know how to survive, to adapt. Without the practical men the species would not survive. I hope for your grandfather’s sake, and for your father’s, that you are a practical man, Brian, not a dreamer. It is up to you now to move your family forward and make them proud.”

  Brian remembered hearing that Pat had been an old IRA man in his day and asked him if he had not been a bit of a dreamer himself when he was young.

  “Ah, that was long ago and I had no one at the time to set me straight. I had to learn all my lessons the hard way in the school of hard knocks. I suppose that is why I try to pass on what I can, so that others don’t make the same mistakes. I tried to keep your grandfather out of trouble when he got here first and I don’t regret it. He was a good friend and a great comrade and despite our different temperaments, I think he understood me. ’Tis a great thing to have someone understand you. Did you ever hear of the time we stood shoulder to shoulder up in Hell’s Kitchen?”

  Brian told him honestly that he had not.

  "Well, for some reason that I can’t recall, I took it into my head to do a tour of the Irish pubs in Manhattan and I persuaded Dan to go with me. I explained that it would be a great way for him to get to know the city. Well, at any rate, we wound up in a pub in Hell’s Kitchen and I must confess that I was much the worse for wear and your granddad was propping me up. Then I took it into my head to make advances toward one of the girls at the bar. Well, the fellow she was with and his friends did not take kindly to this at all. As we were leaving, Dan went back to the bar and bought a bottle of Irish whiskey. I was surprised and delighted that he was ready to keep the party going. When we got outside, I saw the girl’s boyfriend and few of his mates waiting for us. When I looked around, I saw a few more of them behind us.

  ‘Right,’ says Dan and he pulls the bottle out of his pocket, walks to the curb, breaks it and comes up holding the jagged end.

  ‘Now, lads,’ he said.

  ‘My friend here apologies for any offense he may have given to the young lady, and we would like to go home now. I am sure it is in your minds to send us to the hospital first, but I can assure you now, that if we are going there at least one of you is coming with us. So step up now, lads, or step aside,’ he said.

  "And didn’t they step aside for him and let us go. I believe that the sight of an Irishman smashing a full bottle of whiskey put them in shock and that they were sure that the man they were facing was not in his right mind. I did my best to thank him later and I even offered to replace the whiskey. He said to me,

  ‘Sure, Pat, aren’t you my friend, not much of a one now, mind you, but my friend all the same and sure, I’d like to think you would do the same for me, if the odds weren’t too great or handy escape was not available.’ God, he knew me well, he did, Dan. I miss him, by God I do."

  He asked Brian what he was doing for work and how his family were. He was delighted to hear that Noreen was a nurse and that they had a little boy. Pat advised him to get out of banking and go to law school before he got much older.

  “Working for any large public company long term is a bad idea. They work you to death and then lay off people by the hundreds and by the thousands as soon as they have a bad quarter.”

  “Also,” he said. “I will give you a last piece of advice. Do you remember my granddaughter, Jessica?”

  Brian remembered a little girl in pig tails who followed him around the Whelan’s back yard.

  “Well, that’s her over there,” and he nodded toward a striking red head surrounded by a circle of young men.

  “She insisted on coming this evening. She knew your dad and wanted to pay her respects, but she was quite clear that she also wanted to see how you turned out. Now, I mentioned to her that to the best of my knowledge you were married and had a child. She wasn’t at all concerned. She told me that she had a great crush on you and that she was going to see how you turned out. She said I wasn’t to worry, that she had no intention of running off with you, well, at least not for more than a night, anyway. Can you believe the brazenness of her? I would not be alone with her now if I were you. You’re tired and emotional and you’ve had a fair few drinks today, I’m sure, and she is a young lady who generally gets what she wants. Make sure now that she does not get you alone. Remember the lines… ‘and lead us not into temptation.’”

  Brian nodded and Pat seemed pleased.

  “I warned her father when he married into a Donegal family. Good looking women but hard as nails, God help us.”

  Jessica did manage to seek him out later, but Brian made sure they were not alone. Even with a crowd around them she handed him a card with her number on it and said if he was ever in the city that he should look her up and they could have lunch or something. He keep the card for about five minutes after she had left and then went to the bathroom and tore it in pieces. He thanked Pat for his wisdom, ‘and lead us not into temptation, indeed!’

  The next day he was thinking about what Pat had said as he walked away from the graveside. Especially the part about moving the family forward. His dad had often said the very same thing to him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his cousin Mike, who came over and pulled Brian aside.

  “Brian, I know this is bad timing, but you’re going back home tomorrow, right?”

  “Yeah,” Brian replied, “in the morning from Newark.” He had been staying with his brother and sister in law in their apartment in New Jersey.

  “Listen, some people need to see you for a few minutes. It’s not far from here. I can drive you over and bring you back to Paul’s place.”

  He had not seen Mike since his father’s funeral; he wasn’t looking well at all. Brian heard that Mike had continued with his father’s business and was
even deeper in than his dad had been.

  Maybe the increased responsibilities did not suit him but Mike looked like he had lost weight, and he was pale and sweaty as if he had the flu.

  As politely as he could, Brian explained to Mike that he didn’t want anything to do with anyone who wanted to see him and that he would be gone in the morning. As politely as Mike could, he explained that Brian had to go with him or they would send some other people to bring him. He assured Brian that everything was okay, but that his boss Al had insisted on seeing him before he left. Mike said he would be with Brian the whole time and that there was nothing to worry about. Needless to say, Brian was now worried sick. They probably knew where he was staying and he didn’t want to bring any trouble to his brother’s door step. He agreed to go with Mike and explained to his brother that he would be back at his place by dinner time. His brother kept insisting that he would go with Brian and Brian kept insisting that he should not. Mike absolutely assured him that he would have Brian back for dinner. In fact, Mike said that when he brought Brian back, he would take them all out to dinner, his treat.

  Mike didn’t say much in the car. He talked a little bit about Brian’s dad and he kept telling Brian not to worry. Brian thought Mike was worried that maybe he would jump from the car and make a run for it. The thought had crossed his mind, but he couldn’t see why anyone would want to hurt him. Maybe his dad had owed these people money and they wanted to collect from him.

  He didn’t have too long to think about it. Mike was right about it being close by. The family grave plot was in Queens (he supposed it was too expensive to be buried in Manhattan). He was not familiar with the neighborhood, but in less than ten minutes they were in a residential suburb and they pulled into the driveway of a nice looking ranch house with a two car garage. Mike assured him for the hundredth time that he would be with him and that it was just a few minutes of his time. He noticed as they got out of the car that Mike had a gun in his waist band. Jesus Christ, what now?

 

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