Celtic Night

by Bridget O'Dwyer

  When I woke up in the morning I was so confused. I didn’t have a boyfriend or a “forbidden love” or even a crush. I opened my eyes and saw Sophie, Taylor and Hailey awake. I quickly forgot about the dream when I heard my stomach’s loud growl.

  “Anyone up for pancakes?” I asked.

  “Definitely,” the three of them responded at the same time, as they hopped out of their sleeping bags.

  Chapter 2

  “Do you have your ticket, passport, calling card, e-mailing card, money, and address book?”

  “Mom. Just breathe. I’ve got everything.”

  “What about your toothbrush?”

  “I’m pretty sure they have toothbrushes in Ireland,” I said as we approached gate 23C.

  The attendant’s voice came over the loud speaker. “This is the final call for rows fifteen through thirty-five.”

  “That’s me,” I said, looking at them. The three of us stood there, unsure of the next move. I dropped my bag and hugged them each goodbye, but my mother wouldn’t let go. My dad pried her hands away from my waist and held onto them tight to reassure her that everything would be all right. I handed the attendant my ticket and turned around for one last look at them.

  “I’ll miss you,” I said as I blew my mom one last kiss.

  I walked down the tunnel and a strange feeling came over me. As I was stepping onto the plane I heard my mother yell, “Call as soon as you get in!”

  I couldn’t believe what I was doing. I would be away from my parents for six whole months. It was scary, and I liked the feeling.

  Chapter 3

  I closed my eyes as I wheeled my luggage out through the sliding doors of the Shannon airport. When I stepped outside, I stuck my nose way up into the air and inhaled the smell of my new home. It had that refreshing aroma of air just after the rain. I opened one eye, and then the other. I was in Ireland! I smiled as my surroundings were finally revealed to me.

  “First time?”

  I turned to see a man watching me. He was about fifty-five years old. He had gray hair and green eyes, and his face was rough looking; it must have been days since he last shaved. He was wearing a wool sweater and navy blue pants with brown shoes that seemed small and were worn down.

  “Is it that obvious?” I said to him, laughing.

  “I’ve never seen anyone enjoy the view of a dull sky and an airplane the way you just did,” he said, laughing right back at me. I noticed he had a large, round gut that shook when he laughed.

  A small car pulled up about ten yards from where I was standing with my luggage. A tall, burly man stepped out of the driver’s seat. He began to approach me and said, “You must be Sarah. How are you keepin’?”

  “Hi, nice to meet you,” I said, sticking out my hand. His enormous hand swallowed it whole. “How’d you know it was me?” I asked.

  “You’ve got American written all over you,” he said smiling. “I’m Eugene, by the way.”

  “I’m assuming you’re my uncle then.”

  “Right you are, Missus.” He grabbed my two sixty-pound suitcases, one in each hand. I went to the door of the car and climbed in while he was still loading my belongings into the trunk. I turned my head forward, noticed a steering wheel directly in front of me, and began to laugh at my stupidity. He came to the window.

  “Wrong side,” he laughed.

  Embarrassed, I opened the door and went to sit on the other side.

  “I’ll have to remember that,” I said as I buckled my seatbelt. I waved goodbye to the man with the large belly as we drove away and he nodded and gave me a wink. We drove for a couple miles in silence. As the kilometers passed, it seemed like we were going farther and farther into the country. There were endless acres of land covered with the greenest grass my eyes had ever seen. The rolling hills were like quilts that covered the countryside. As we drove around bends and over hills, I was beginning to get a slight case of carsickness. Eugene turned to me and said, “Jesus! Your face is nearly the color of the grass out there. Are you sick, child?”

  I held in my laughter so as not to offend him. His accent was much stronger than my father’s and I was still getting used to it. We came to a stop after a couple of minutes and I looked ahead to see what the hold up was.

  “Just a little traffic jam, that’s all. It’s common down around here.”

  I was confused because I hadn’t recalled seeing many other cars. As we inched along we came closer to the “traffic jam,” which was moooooooooing. I counted thirteen cows walking down the road being led by a boy around my age. I stared at him in amazement as we passed by and he glanced at me and tipped his hat. I laughed hysterically inside and couldn’t wait to tell Sophie about my first Irish traffic jam. After we drove by, Eugene finally broke the silence.

  “So, how was the flight over? Did you sleep at all?”

  “No, I couldn’t sleep, I was too excited.”

  “I bet you’re going to love it here. You’ll be staying with your uncle Jack, won’t you?”

  “I talked to him on the phone a couple times, and he said he has the situation with my school already figured out.”

  “I’lltakeyoudowntomeetBiddybeforeItakeyouovertothepark, right?”

  I didn’t know what he was talking about but I agreed anyways. I could barely understand him, he was talking so fast.

  We drove through a few towns and through more of the countryside. The ride must have taken about an hour and a half, but the time passed by quickly. Eugene answered all my questions about the town and the family until I was fully acquainted with his Ireland. He listed everyone’s name through the first cousins. I learned I have seven uncles, an aunt, and thirty some cousins.

  “The Irish are the friendliest people in the world,” Eugene declared.

  He also snuck in a small history lesson on the way as we passed multiple castles.

  When we arrived in Thurles, the town where the family lives, he showed me around, which didn’t take long at all. He pointed out a few of the thirty-two pubs in Thurles, including one that the family owned years ago. Finally, we ended up at a house with an imposing gate. We strolled up the driveway, where all was quiet and still. It was a large stone house with an enormous yard. The yard was home to six stables for horses and a riding arena.

  “My daughter, Laura Ellen, rides, and yours aunt Mary gives lessons as well,” he said. “I myself love horses. I breed them; some to use and ride, some to sell.”

  I followed Eugene in through the back door, into the kitchen, to a silent almost deadly quiet house. A woman was sitting at the table looking out the window. Her figure was so peaceful as she sat sipping a cup of tea and occasionally referring back to the newspaper in front of her. She had thin gray hair, which was tied up in a small bun, and pale soft skin. She wore thick glasses, a worn out nightgown, and slippers. She turned and saw me watching her. I smiled, but she did not immediately return the gesture.

  “Hello Sarah, home from America, are we?” she said, almost ardently.

  “This is Biddy, your granny and my mother,” Eugene said.

  “Come sit down, do you want a cup of tea? How was the flight? Jesus, you must be wrecked, pet. Do you want to go to sleep?”

  I was slightly confused by all the questions being thrown at me, but I realized that I was actually kind of tired.

  “Eugene, bring her upstairs and let her sleep, will ya?” she said. “You can come down after you get some rest and have you’re dinner later, and then we can have a nice chat when you’re all rested.”

  “Okay, I guess,” I said. I followed Eugene down a corridor and upstairs to a bedroom. He left me and said he would see me in a few hours and that I should catch up on my sleep. As soon as my head hit the pillow I was asleep; I didn’t even have time to soak in the reality of being in this strange and beautiful land.

  Chapter 4

  I woke to a salty and sweet aroma that had drifted up the stairs and into the room, arousing my senses, convincing me to get out of bed and head do
wnstairs where I heard voices in the kitchen. I was nervous to get out of bed and face those noises, but decided that I had to make the best of the situation, not to mention, I was starving. As I walked down the stairs, I noticed photographs that were hanging on the wall. There were a few of beautiful horses running wild, boys playing a sport that I didn’t even recognize, and one of a couple standing in front of a house. I recognized the woman as a much younger Biddy. I continued walking downstairs and came upon a little boy and girl staring directly at me. The boy was about five years old. He had the largest blue eyes I had ever seen and his hands and face were filthy, almost stained as if he had never washed them. The girl, about two years old, also had a stained face, only not with dirt. Her “marking” appeared to be ketchup. They looked shyly upward at me from the bottom of the stairs, but said nothing. Nonetheless, I said hello.

  I continued down the hall and opened the door to the kitchen. A cloud of smoke formed a halo around my head. I turned to see four men sitting around the table. One was Eugene, and another, the boy from the picture who was now grown into a man. He was tall with light brown hair cut very short on his head. He was obviously a couple years older than me, for his face was rough with stubble that in a few days would be a full grown beard. He looked almost the same as in the picture, which must have been at least ten years ago, only his features were much more mature and bold. Biddy was sitting on a tall stool in front of the stove, and a woman who looked vaguely familiar was standing in front of the sink staring out the big window that looked into the yard. She turned, saw me and smiled.

  “Well Sarah! How are ya?” she came towards me and gave me a hug. “I’m your Aunty Mary.”

  “Hi, it’s nice to meet you,” I said, rubbing my eyes, which were irritated by the thick white smoke that filled the room.

  “Did you meet Bill and Eimear in the hall there? Those are two of my children,” she said.

  “Wait, is this John’s young one?” said one of the men at the table. He was much shorter than Eugene and was quite stocky. He was smoking a cigarette and drinking a cup of tea. The other man didn’t say much. He was average height and had very dark brown hair. He had a cap on his head that left a dark shadow across his eyes.

  “This is Sarah. Sarah, this is Pat, Kevin, Paul, and you already know Eugene,” Mary said, pointing them out one by one. “Now, Sarah, just a little warning for you, you’re related to a lot of people around here, so you’ll just have to do your best to remember them all. Pat, Kevin, and Eugene are your father’s brothers and Paul is your cousin and my son.

  “Well, how ya keepin’?” Paul and Kevin said at the same time.

  “Nice to meet you too,” I said, unsure if that was the correct answer to their question.

  I went over to the stove and stood next to Biddy and watched her carefully as she peeled the potatoes for dinner. When she noticed me watching her so intently, she reached into the drawer pulled out another peeler and handed it to me. I picked up a potato and watched her as I peeled to make sure I did it the right way. Her strokes were smooth but quick and I had to go much slower. While she sat there in silence, with me standing next to her peeling potatoes, I remembered a poem by Seamus Heaney that my father had once recited to me:

  When all the others were away at Mass

  I was all hers as we peeled potatoes.

  They broke the silence, let fall one by one

  Like solders weeping off the soldering iron:

  Cold comforts set between us, things to share

  Gleaming in a bucket of clean water.

  And again let fall. Let pleasant splashes

  From each other’s work would bring us to our senses.

  I smiled to think that my father probably liked the poem because he had spent plenty of afternoons peeling potatoes with his mother. Now I was peeling potatoes with her, too.

  Eugene looked up from the table and asked me if I was going to stay here for a few days before I went to live with my uncle Jack.

  “Of course she’ll stay,” Biddy said.

  “Right, so, I’ll bring your bags up to the room for you later,” Eugene said. As soon as dinner was ready, Biddy fed Eugene, Pat, Kevin, and Paul. The three of them ate their food at the speed of light and left to get back to work. The kitchen seemed less chaotic with just Biddy, Mary, and I, and I was able to sit down at the table and talk with them.

  “I’m really happy to be here,” I told them.

  “We’re delighted to have you,” Mary said. “I can’t believe I haven’t even seen my brother since you were only a baby. It’s like a little bit of John is here as well.”

  “You think I’m similar to him?”

  “I don’t know, I’ll have to see you mad in order to tell,” she said, laughing.

  After I devoured my dinner we had a cup of tea and apple tart. I told them all about our lives in Syracuse and about Mom and Dad. I noticed something about Mary rather quickly. She is one of those people who, when she has something to say, she compels everyone to listen. She spoke the same as Biddy, very gracefully, and full of wisdom. They both sounded as though they had so much knowledge when they spoke, and they were very convincing about it. When Mary talked about her life, I was truly interested in hearing what she had to say. They then went on to tell me about my father’s horrible temper as a child, and I guaranteed them that it had followed him into adulthood.

  “His elder brothers were always giving him their clothes when they got too small,” Mary began.

  “And boy, did he hate getting them old clothes,” Biddy said. “Anyways, Connor gave him a gorgeous jacket one winter and your father was so mad whenever he had to wear it. When he came home from school one day, I asked him where the jacket had gone and he said, very boldly and tough, ‘I threw it in the river’,” she laughed. “Your grandfather was so mad; I’d say Matt’s bum is still black and blue!”

  Mary was sitting across from the table laughing hysterically. I too was in a fit of laughter. I couldn’t imagine my dad doing that.

  After a while, Biddy went off to take her afternoon rest and Mary told me she had to go downtown to run an errand. I went into the sitting room, or living room, as we would call it, and sat down. About five minutes into my channel surfing, Paul and two other boys strode up the driveway. They came into the sitting room and grabbed the remote from me.

  “Hey look lads, it’s the yank,” said one of the boys. He was tall with blond hair and bright blue eyes. He was tossing a soccer ball up in the air.

  “Actually my name’s Sarah. I’m John’s daughter.”

  “Actually, I’m John’s daughter,” the boy said, faking an American accent and mocking me.

  “Are we related?” I asked in a somewhat snotty tone.

  “Unfortunately, yes,” said the other boy.

  Put off by their rudeness, I didn’t respond. Paul, the oldest, noticed my silence and sudden passive attitude.

  “Aw, we’re just messin’ with ya,” Paul said. “That’s James and Eoghan. They’re your cousins as well.”

  I took from this conversation that James and Eoghan were slightly less mature than Paul, I was pretty sure Paul was the oldest. Paul had the remote now and flicked to some sports game. I noticed that it was the same game Paul was playing in the pictures that I had noticed on my way downstairs. I asked him what it was. He looked shocked when I asked him, but thankfully didn’t ridicule me.

  “That’s called Rugby. Have you never heard of it?”

  “Never,” I said.

  “It’s a great game. We’ll have to teach you sometime,” Paul said. James and Eoghan both snickered. I ignored their contempt for my ignorance.

  “That would be cool,” I said.

  We sat silently for a minute as we all concentrated on the game.

  “So how old are you anyways?” Eoghan said, trying to make normal conversation.

  “I’m fifteen. How old are you?”

  “I’m fourteen, James is seventeen, and Paul is twenty.”

  �
��Now, I know we’re all related but give me a little overview.”

  “Right, James and I are Pat’s kids. Paul is Mary’s.”

  “Oh, okay gotcha,” I replied, trying to match the names with the faces of the men I had met earlier. It was going to take me a while to remember everyone. Back home I saw my mom’s side of the family a couple of times a year, but in Ireland, I was going to see my family every day. I was already beginning to love how different it was living with my Irish family, including the disarray and atmosphere of the house.

  We watched the rest of the game, and after an hour or so Mary came back. She asked Paul to do something for her that I didn’t quite understand. James and Eoghan were going as well.

  “You goin’ for the spin?” Mary asked me.

  “Um, sure, I guess.” I followed Paul, James, and Eoghan outside and we climbed into a big red work van. We drove through the town and down through country roads, sitting silently in the car as the radio played The Zephyr Song by the Red Hot Chili Peppers. We drove through a field down a little dirt road and stopped just outside a gate connected to a fenced-in field. Paul opened the trunk of the van, which was filled with hay. He ordered James, Eoghan, and I to each grab a barrel and follow him. When I got to the gate, four beautiful horses were grazing in the field straight ahead of me. As soon as they noticed we had hay, they began to approach us. I had ridden a horse once or twice but always with someone holding onto a lead. I loved their character, the way they moved, and their body language toward other horses and toward people. I found them to be fascinating creatures. Obviously, the boys didn’t think so because as soon as they had released the hay from the twine, we left. I, on the other hand, could have stayed and watched for hours. Thankfully, the car ride home was not in silence. I asked them about school and about people their age. I was curious as to what everyone did for fun, and I was curious to hear what they had to say about the school I would be attending.