by M. H. O'Hara
He had left there a frightened boy and now returned a strong man, his own man. It was already dark as he hit the back roads that would lead him into Donegal, just then bright blazing headlights shone directly into his car, he couldn’t see a dame thing and swerved to the side of the road spinning around as he did. He jumped out of the car furious and angry at this stupid shit of a driver, though relieved he hadn’t been killed. That thought didn’t last long as he stepped out of the car a gun was pointed at his head, two men stood before him with mask’s on and in strong Belfast accents said well Hello Father O Kane and dragged him over to their car where a third man was at the boot they hit him over the head with the butt of the gun and threw him into the boot. The third guy got into Peters car and waited till the other car passed him and followed closely behind.
They pulled into a remote part of Derry with nothing and no one in sight, checking all around them one more time they opened the car boot finding Peter had come around and began shouting at the men asking them what was going on why where they doing this to him. It was obvious to him they’d got the wrong guy made a mistake, they would,nt let him speak they dragged him away from the cars and told him to get down on his knees and pray to the God he worshipped ask him, one sneered to save you now priest. Peter tried another desperate vain attempt to speak but that was only returned with one of the guys kicking him in the stomach causing him to roll over onto his side. I’ve done no one any harm he breathed out, don’t do this please I beg you. The guy brandishing the gun got down close into Peters face, you interfered for the last time priest in our business, you helped two of our boys who we own you helped them get away from their duties to the crown. They were kids just seventeen and nineteen, and one couldn’t shoot me he was one of yours he was a child someone’s son. I helped him and the other wee lad find their own path. Another blow came this time to his face with the butt of the gun. You stay the fuck out of UDF business, when we recruit soldiers we say what they do ,they work for us not you, you feinan bastard of an unholy God. You should have let him kill you in that confession box because now you’re a dead man anyway and when we find him so is he. So priest you killed him, how does that go with your commandments ”thou shall not kill” Peter knew there was nothing more he could say to these men nothing would stop this. He cast a glance up to the sky just as the clouds parted and a view of heaven smiled through, and there I was thinking you were on my side god, everything had been going so well. But God had his own plan and Peter prayed and readied himself to meet his maker who he hoped would forgive him for his sin of abandoning his vows. He closed his eyes and kissed Eileen with every particle in his body as though he was with her in that embrace on black mountain. All he remembered was the cold metal of the end of the gun pressed against the back of his head and the sky went black.
The three men all cheered and danced around Peters body we just killed a fucking feinan priest, he was their first and last one. Right lads best be quick someone could have heard that shot. Lets get the petrol out of the car ,two of the men went over to their car and unloaded a large barrel of petrol and then began spraying Peters car with it, wait a minute you stupid prick said the guy who had actually pulled the trigger,check if the priest had something in there worth anything before you burn it. Priests never have anything,worth anything.
The guy stripped Peter’s body naked and ripped of the Saint Christopher necklace he’d wore around his neck, his fathers. Wow look at this looks like the priest rubbed the poor box, holding in his hand what was left of Peters money, there’s at least two grand here ,fuck what was he doing with that sort of money. Anything else, clothes toys and crap. Don’t take it burn it all leave no traces, lets cremate the priest to. No said the obvious leader, the fucking so called real IRA have to know we shot a priest no good if they can’t identify him is it. Standing way back they threw a petrol bomb into the back of the already petrol filled car and boom, making them jump back further away from the car. They quickly took of back down the road before the smoke and fire of the car caught attention of the police. Peters body was luminescent by the burning flames of his first car, he lay under the stars naked as the day God had introduced him to the world and he bleed and bleed, while above him all watched and waited.
Eileen’s Story
CHAPTER 15
For Eileen days turned into weeks turned into months, but still she waited for him, Father O Kane ,Peter how do you tell your soul to stop waiting to be free into the arms of the only other soul who looked right into you and saw all, loved all and accepted all. How do you stop the longing for his lips, his hands holding you,those arms saving you.I know he,s coming back I feel him,I feel if I let go of him meant I was letting go of that last piece of Eileen,that last piece that he held with him and he could just slip it back into place, my heart would beat pure again, I’d not be this hardened woman who, had on a cloak of shame of a mask so thick she couldn’t recognise herself when she had caught herself in the full length mirror in the bedroom as Joe was fucking her for the second time that hour this time from behind he,d said bring that mirror over I want to see your tits wobbling and bouncing up and down. This wasn’t the first time she’d been fucked in front of this mirror, same mirror ,but she always avoided looking, it would be like shattering a thousand masks, melt away the coat she wore of Kara, Kara was doing it Eileen was dead barely breathing, under the surface awaiting till it was over so she could come out and hold her son and feel real love and warmth, not that she deserved it or him or anything.
It was the same mirror, just a different brothel. Doreen had relocated after the landlord got an anonymous tip of that he had whores in his apartment and the house was just the same two in one week. No refund of deposit, just get the fuck out by tomorrow morning or I’m calling the police. Doreen never got deposits back, she was sure it was the two guys who had tipped the landlords of. Punters had begun to feel the pinch and we weren’t always overly busy and they were feeling it to and thought with Doreen gone more business for them. I asked why she didn’t do it back to them, she said she would only they own the place their using so pointless! I’d been working now for nearly six months regularly two to three days a week with Doreen and I still had Clarke my hotel buddy regularly and another guy, but he was more like a sugar daddy that’s what he called himself. Nothing had surprised me anymore, from the guy who cam in with boxing gloves on and wanted me to put them on and do a pretend boxing match with him getting punched by me, and he’d fall to the ground then I’d count to ten just before I got to ten up he,d get and we’d start all over again while he did a running commentary all the way through.
By now I could roll a condom onto any mans penis with my mouth a trick working girl taught me to do starting with a banana, took four days but I mastered it.She, he’d been a man had the full sex job, well not completely so made a ton of money on quiet days for her. Him easy £5000 but she swallowed! The thing I despised myself for the most was when I came, yep a few times not through the sex, but when they insisted on eating me out! A few just wanted to do this eat me out while wanking of and as much as Kara and I tried I came and hard and they loved it more because I’m a squirter.
I’d cleared all my debts and put a good bit away for James and I.I up dated my car to a nice wee sporty Mazda rx8 .Yes the Ds now paid my interest on the mortgage and I got income support which I could barely live on if I choose to. So why am I still doing it. When I’m obviously better off and don’t need to why are you abusing yourself, self-harming when you don’t need to? Good question and I ask that every day I go home and I always reach the same answer. There’s nothing out there for me now, I’m damaged good, soiled packaging. No man would ever want me now, I’m like rotten food. If I stop then it will all come flooding in, I’d have to see me, really see me. Feel all that shame that guilt and what for. Why allow all that pain to flood into my soul why look at me for me, when I’m just an empty plastic bag caught on a tree branch holding on barely. The wine takes an edge of the pain, spoiling
James helps and buying things lasts a minute and then there all in the wardrobe with their labels still on. I feel like I’m wearing designer fur that has been splattered by the blood of my sins. So I keep going until I can’t, or in my drunken haze he’s holding me carrying me away and kissing away my salty tears.
The Patient
The nurse finished checking his blood pressure, still no response today doctor she said and Doctor O Neil checked the patient for any new sign of responsiveness, but still nothing. It breaks my heart looking at him just lying there all these months and not a sinner missing him, how does that happen Doctor how can anyone in this world end up with not a sinner who cares for them. The Doctor shook his head, this man is lucky to be alive after the gunshot he took to his head, it’s a miracle he’s here at all, he may still come round Nurse Louis I’ve seen parents in comas for years and just sit up in bed as if they had been sleeping. He, young and healthy and made a full recovery from the bullet wound, he just needs to wake up and I believe he will! Patient Keenan had awoken miraculously from his coma nearly five months he’d fought for his life after they removed that bullet from his head, he’d lost so much blood they didn’t give him any real hope. But he held on, held in there and now here he was alive and improving with every minute, though sadly he’d no idea as to who he was or how he’d gotten to be in the middle of a desolate field in Derry with a bullet in his head.
Perhaps a smell, a place or a person might just spark of a bolt in his brain, but he might have to face the fact that he may never remember what had happened to him and why. Despite numerous attempts by the local police working with local media no one came forward for this lost soul. On the news they had reported that a man in his late thirties had been shot in the in C.O Londonderry and left for dead, he had no identification on him and they could make no ID from the car registration as it hadn’t been registered in any name yet. They did however manage to trace the car to the previous owner, a car dealer in Downpatrick but he knew little of the man just gave the description of him which fitted and he hadn’t kept any paper work of the sale as it turned out he didn’t exactly run a reputable business so they had no lead there and after numerous attempts it all dried up. Until during a physiotherapy session the patient had stopped to take a breather he could walk on his own now and his strength was up soon he’d be able to leave but to who and to where. He heard a voice behind him speaking, but didn’t turn around, until the voice became a figure of a priest standing before him exclaiming “Father O Kane “the priest said, the patient shook his head totally bewildered by this priest in front of him, it’s me Father, Father Thomas? We worked the youth crusade together last year, he looked up at this priest, frantically searching his face, his voice for some sort of recognition, but nothing came .At that the nurse came over and interjected, excuse me do you recognise this patient. Yes of course he’s Father O Kane “father you say yes. Hats right Father, she took Father Thomas to the side this man has been in a coma for over five months here at this hospital, what exclaimed the wee priest, yes he was shoot in the head and left for dead.
Father Thomas sat down there must be some misunderstanding, why would anyone shoot Father O Kane and surely I would have heard through the church. We had radio and newspaper appeals at the time of the shooting and a few after but they always came up dry. There was no identification on him, he’d be stripped naked, so all the broadcasts all said a man had been shot, not a priest.He looked over at Father O Kane who still looked like himself only very pale and thin and a lot older ,know could this happen to someone from our holy family,how did we lose him. Now what should we do nurse, well you’re going to have to talk to the doctor and the police, now that we finally know who he is it will not only help him with his recovery but help the police find who did this and did this to a harmless priest. Sick animals muttered the nurse. Father Thomas walked back to Father O K anemone took his hand, still nothing from Petrels eyes this man, this priest was but a shadow, to him. Father that’s what you are, your a priest, Father Peter O Kane from Donegal .Peter lingered in these words, Peter a priest his head rang like bells. He began to get dizzy and passed out. To much for him the nurse said as she ran to get the doctor and left Father Thomas moping back a tear. Over the next few days Father O Kane’s story was all around the hospital and the church buzzed with what had happened, all the priests gathered to say hello, pray for his full recovery, wee bits began to slowly come back to him, his childhood, where he lived, drips of memory though nothing stuck into one thing. The police gathered as much as Peter could remember about the night which was little more than” I was driving and a bright light shone straight into my car blinding me”. The bank manager Mr Young from the bank in Donegal also helped he came in and told Peter how he’d been to see him that day and wanted all his money moved he always wondered what had happened to him and just put the money back into the same account it had lay in for over fifteen years. The police asked him what was he going to do with all that money and they figured that the £5000 he’d gotten that day was stolen by the same men who’d shot him, though they didn’t believe that was their motive. Lying in the hospital bed Peter forced himself to try and remember what was he doing, why all the money he’d told the bank manager he was starting a new life but that just didn’t add up, he was a priest wasn’t he so what new life how? His head hurt. Don’t force it, it will all come back the doctor said. Peter thought its taking way to long!
No one bothered to mention, not one of those God fearing priest's or the Bishop happened to mention that he, left the priesthood, applied for a dispensation from the pope. No they didn’t bring that up, perhaps that might of helped him understand make sense of it any of it. It would help him find out who he was and it would help him find Eileen before there was nothing of her to find. He opened the blue box all cushioned inside and rolled its contents around in his palm,he held it up to the sunlight that was sleeping in to the room. It was beautiful truly equisite. The jeweller and his daughter had come shortly after the campaign of priest’s had left. They took with them the ring all wrapped from that day and his receipt.Engagaed, engagement ring rang around and around his mind. The jeweller was old had it not been for his daughter with him he wouldn’t have taken anything he said seriously. They seemed confused also, when we saw your picture in our local paper we knew it was you, we haven’t had any other customers who spent so much. We would have come sooner only we were confused as it said you were a priest they explained, well on the day you came into our store you said you wanted an engagement ring and you picked this out and asked us to hold it for you. We kept it for you father or sir. Kept it safe. The girl couldn’t contain herself but had to ask. So are you a priest? Why did you buy this ring? Longing for an explanation to this whole mystery. I don’t know, he said clutching it tighter in his palm, I don’t know quietly almost under his breath. But I’m going to find out, I’m going to I’m going to find my truth. My story.
Eileen’s Christmas
I arrived a little late at the Edinburgh airport clambered into a cab,Hi! could you tale me to “The Glasshouse Hotel” please I said to cabby? No problem love.It was the twenty first of December and a little sheet of a dusting of snow lay across the streets of Edinburgh. It was my first time here and I was looking forward to the night ahead. I checked my blackberry to see if he’d be meeting me at the hotel but no reply yet. I was wearing my favourite jeans, sexy black leather and a lace black and gold blouse with a deep velvet rich coloured scarf coupled with my heavy wrap cashmere coat .First time in Edinburgh the wee cabby asked, yes it is. Oh you’ll love it and there’s a great sales on,Oh! Thank you, doing last bits of shopping ?Yeah and enjoying a well-earned get away. Your accent where are you from? Ireland ,sound Australian, I know I get that a lot don’t know why, lived in Northern Ireland my whole life. The markets are great this year, thank you. He was a nice man chatty and friendly not too noisy I think some cabbies are terrible noisy or maybe I’m just too cagey! Pulled up outside “The Glasshouse Hot
el” I see why they call it the glasshouse hotel I said. It’s one of Edinburgh’s finest you’ll love it.Thank you I gave him £10.00 being Christmas and all. The hotel was stunning, all outside of it was glass the whole top half of it at least. I walked up the steps to the hotel as the cool Scottish air whirled around me I felt a chill of excitment.The lobby was open and warm as I walked confidently to the reception desk I spoke to the man behind the counter. Good afternoon madam may I help you he asked, yes hello my husband left a key for me at the front desk he’s already booked in ,I’m a little late. The name madam ”Butler Mr Crawford Butler” yes madam here it is along with this note, he handed me a small brown envelope and asked would I like help with my bags ,no thank you I explained I just had an overnight bag. Enjoy your stay Mrs Butler. Thank you. I took the lift to the top floor room number 23 I slid the key card into the door and slipped on the lights, wow it was stunning .In the middle of the room was a huge king size bed covered in satin and lace chocolate sheets and sprayed with hundreds of rose petals behind the bed was a landing with steps that lead up to massive windows looking out onto all of Edinburgh with beautiful flowers and ornate pictures it was one of the most beautiful rooms I’d been in there by the windows on the desk in an ice bucket were two bottles of champagne by two glasses and chocolate strawberries’. I ran into the bathroom to check out the freebies, you know the hotel soaps and shower gels. It was like something out of Country house and homes, enormous big elaborate victorian bathtub right in the centre of the room beautifully tiled in pretty coffee gold coloured tiles, the robes were so full and fluffy and too big to fit into my bags it was bliss.