Small Histories

Being a continuation of Bridget's Story.

Give us a young'un there Bridie.

A young'un a half'un with a Guinness head a pint of the black goat's milk - they'd have killed me, Oh Thomais, if I wasn't doing it myself. My son you live it your way this life but beware the cost of living in bars.

A young'un, they'd dog you, for begod the winter's nip is on me. And I'd put on the kettle place a brandy in a glass fill with hot water and two sugars on top. She's a good one this Bridie they'd enthuse no better at all at all as you'd await the price of the drink picking up glasses smiling at their banter playing that role they anoint you and still no payment offered. Forever trying to get the money it'd make you appreciate the gentleman - I think now it was this that endeared me to Dylan.

We were mutually acquainted - you were now four years old - and he could not be more different from these rattling half-witted shams. Although I've blamed him for much I'd forgive him more but son you'll learn love is oft' not the thing that you sought.

I knew that he liked me when he came in the bar - why else would he young and not at ease sit and order a drink in a place of raucous pretenders and self-aggrandizing men. But he sat and had a drink he waited and did not barge and when he paid I took his money and right back I returned it to him. It was in that bar - the Shebeen - that a possibility of something else protruded through the cracks of a life I'd long despaired as already squandered.

You may think me errant my son but you should know back then it was hard for me to keep myself but you, Thomais, the thought of you I blitzed with Hennessey and Powers Jameson and Smirnoff stolen bottles and pocketed nagans allowing your grandmother who I barely acknowledged the irretrievable years I hid in falsehood the gift of having you near and aiding you grow. I was young, my love, just twenty and you already a fouryearold boy. And though some would entreat me I grew up too fast truly it was not so: a girl with a history like a kid with a death may preclude herself voluntarily or be let known her place.

Yet the truth of this he made me wonder before ultimately proving it so.