Brian O’Dowd was born in Dublin. He lives in Toronto. O’Dowd is a Professor at the University of Toronto. His novel ‘A Wicklow Girl’, was published in 2017. Available on Amazon etc. Publisher: Tellwell, Canada. In 2019 he won the prestigious Prix Galien 2019 Canadian Science Award, as reported in the Irish Times. https://www.irishtimes.com/news/health/dubliner-wins-prix-galien-2019-award-for-pharmaceutical-research-1.4093350
‘After All’ Ⓒ
Brian O’Dowd
Start
Read that 150,000 people die every day, that’s a long line at Heaven’s gate. Then get stuck behind busy mass murderer or Tyrant with long rap sheets, just my luck with all ancestors hoping to greet me. Two Grandfathers and Grandmother never knew me at all. Grand excitements, look even if I’ve to do time in Purgatory for boxing neighbour’s apples. All the kids doing that, Dublin’s culture. Monkey see, monkey do. Presently not much else they can get me for, too young for big mischief with still being a virgin and all.
Pin that on me?
Next
Mornings getting the old kitchen range going. Beans on toast, pot of strong tae. Carry the electric heater for top of the house. Quiet as a mouse there, with having no gas memories growing up. Got a lap-top computer from thrift store, a bargain. Old with upside down logo. For internet it’s the library, with that cheap printer. Living the life! Got an old modem so able to hitch a ride on biddie’s Wifi next door. She don’t care, wasted with her anyway. For ever wandering about, spend five minutes talking and you’d realise. Seeing with living on an island hope to study marine biology, specializing in sharks. How to not get bit is a problem with ~80 attacks yearly. Taking studies casual, a frequent sabbatical year where I zone out. Lackadaisical procrastination attitude got from dear old Da. Meanwhile we are killing 80 million (!) of them at the same time. Not always being busy-busy is a good trait. Never got going with the car, when I have my flashy racing bike. Thinking about a motor scooter if get a girlfriend. Been up to the Pine-forest more times than to count, keeping fit for the ladies. No need to be galivanting on the ferry to England, sure when I have it all right here. Auctioning bits and gobs of my folk’s stash, with buyers lining up at the door. No frugal miser, prefer parsimonious! Keeping wolf from the door Ma and Pa right hoarders, left a note book where their bounties located. Loads of it in Wicklow farmer sheds, fair few bob from them Queen Ann tables bit of French polish and handy fixing. Never taken to excessive drink or smokes. Not that I’m a recluse just mostly on my tod. Obviously in my quest I go to the dances.
Gangster asked,
“Why rob banks?”
He says.
“That’s where the money is.”
Sound man.
Dad with eyes for paintings, I’ll give that.
“One of them lot sold you’d be in quid’s worth.
Collector’s item.”
Sort of guff he’d get away with, on the ball few times, keeping old yokes good investment.
‘Quare few bob in antiques,
things return grand style.
Carpentry and spit cost nuthin.’
Que sera.
Now dear old Ma just departed. Sorry never did make her proud to boast with friends. Hope she spying on me from up there. After funeral Mass all skedaddled seeing I’d not arranged doings, no girlfriend so not skilled in that art. Not an orphan with old hippie Da in a New Jersey commune. Took off without so much as a by your leave, on the airplane 10 year ago. Hardly a hide nor hair since. He’d fallen into the tentacle smoking MaryJane weed, who knows what else. I avoid that genetic trait, keeping hale with the ale. Old man partially forgiven at least by me as he left his ‘Carry On’ movies stash. Right on!
Only me in the family abode left to wander up three flights of stairs devoid of life. Not much memories, in our time most never really occupied by nobody, truth be told hardly knew neighbours. Closeted for sure. Well except summer irritated trapped bumble bees encountering window panes. Never swat with newspaper, given bad karma fears, open windows more come in, dreaded adventurous blue bottle varmints. At least now gifted full reign over the controller, territorial Ma glued to favourites like ‘Coronation street’. Woe betide anyone interrupting calling from foreign parts, as me from caravan in Wexford.
‘later, oh later.’
Finally located Da said he was having shingles, unable to travel. If you could even believe that palaver.
‘show photos old man!’
Anyway so here’s me in magnificent Palmerston road Red brick, near the park. Even AC/DC full volume, not hear a whisper on the road. Summer days past kids pick me for goal, between the anoraks, expecting nada with my saves effort.
So I’m Henry, dating profile pegged as odd ball bachelor, attracting little traffic. Most girls brief look, avoid second dates. Judgemental! Anyway as I would know there is fish in sea, lakes and rivers. Not panicking, steady as they goes! Me and Ma were still watching only from the aerial yoke on the roof Dad had from the sixties. 17 inch TV, black and white, probably not missing much. Suspicion sometimes it was sending us old TV signals. That’s from re-watching all the Twilight Zone stuff! All told not too shabby!
Ma with sayin I’d to settle down ‘don’t live forever’, she was right. Never need to be that ambitious seeing parents had left a pile. I lazed about a lot, not galivanting away. Should be trying better.
Head off Saturday nights, trepidations but optimistic. Even if I’m no fair maidans ‘catch’. Always round peg in square hole. Especially with rugby lads.
Double Dublin date
Me an Joey sat eager waiting. Two pints to the good prior for nerves still bit anxious. Dublin birds right challenge, need to be on top form. Then all got out in Dad’s neglected Sunday best garments from Henry street. Take me for a big shot any day!
“Look not tonight dial it back.”
“Joey all I’m saying is that erectile dysfunction pills saved the rhino.”
“Listen man no offence but best sit opposite tables. You like to rap crap with esoteric subjects, I’ll be sat like a dummy in disbelief, in despair. No way again Jose, shove over.”
Mate Joey from school now no wing man, only contamination for his evening. Tolerated me for comparison, made him look good. Late and latest glamour girls Barb and Marge arrived, waiting for the drinks as company abhors the silence, natural I got stuck in.
“Look with me see I study Wobbegong sharks my passion, probably write Master thesis next year. Territorial in Oz like Irish! With our 32 cultures!”
“Studying weird stuff for Dubliner’s? For what?” Barb’s query. “Who can exist on that?”
“Not that you’d see them in the Liffey. Whatever?” Next table Marge ear-wigging and interrupting.
“Marine science involves Earth, gobs of opportunities. Ambition swim with them impress Profs! Need to sell stuff raise cash, medals for 100 yards dash third place for two years in a row, up for grabs. Stamp album, loads of new issues and my surefire movie script. Autograph book from Showband times, with the legends! Got in swap deal.”
Dominating interactions!
“Islands feed sharks on the other side from golden tourist’s beaches. Beast of the sea with belly full. Now they hate us for genocide and attack with sea-rage.”
“Not things most Dubliners normally worry these days. Listen Henry I’ll be at the ladies.”
Ages sat nursing the pint with crisps, that glass of white wine unused.
“Hey dude where’s your one?” Joey whispering.
“Powdering her nose, dolling herself up! For me!”
Feeling still an eligible receiver.
“Is she Pinocchio? Regaling her about big salty fish, give her a chance to speak!”
“I’m doing good, no worries. Fascinated if I dare say. Winner!”
“Henry hang on.”
Laughing from his bird’s phone.
“She’s bailed, Barb’s split!”
Prognosis, brush off. Who could not like the Wobbegong? Did not give a chance. Her loss I’ll say.
“I’d other stuff. Why salmon prefer returning to Irish rivers, we’ve no bears at the waterfalls! Well except anglers.”
“Marge freaked out wants to skedaddle, meet back with Barb at Yokels.”
So invested, now this calamity?
“I’ll send her a ‘Sorry’ text. Meet youse later? You know second chance! No more fishy stories if that’s the way they want. Insist.”
“Word to the wise do nothing to limit damage. No invite for Yokels. Barb suggests best tonight wish you’d go sleep with fishes. Marge thinks you are a ‘weird fish of kettles’, heading for two sheets to the wind.”
Nothing I’d not heard before for sure. Gulped that vino, handled canal walk home, woke up bit depressed. Joey was higher up the totem pole than me. One of them lads.
How my life feels like a lonely crab walking sideways on sand at Sandymount.
Next day request from Joey
“Listen man going to ask if you’d do 30 minute shark talk for kids in the class? Let them admire the passion, also few rough necks in detention so cannot leave early. Good for your resume and stuff for Chaplin at the eulogy. If you become belly up with those woopie fish.”
“Sharks are on the ropes. Just reading about nightmare fish, ‘Black demon’. Scary species.”
“That’s the ticket!”
“Okay when I’m back, now heading down to do the religious Retreat in Waterford, booked with Brothers for the two weeks. Silence and early rising get mentals on track, under the circumstances.”
Aftermath
Two bench railway carriage a girl was sleeping by the window, with her all so glitzy deluxe shades. Sat down quiet reading my book, with time to kill. As the train was lurching forward your one emerged from dozing. Blond creature in jeans open toe sandals, no socks needed for that summer.
“Hi” she says across the carriage.
Submitted my version of a smile, strained given my mug. Then she’s all at the window waving folks by the canal. This bird was so far out of my league.
“What you reading there?”
Quizzical eyes now revealed, magnified by whatever witchery practice they make up. No chance to prevail against gifted beauty and painted nails.
“Oh some science stuff.”
I shoved the killer whales tome in my brief case, out of sight.
“B.Sc at Technology College, Henry the science guy!”
“I like chemistry.” She says no qualification mentioned, only puckered lips as to kiss the air.
Insanity goddess armored like a spider to engulf the male.
With watching her had me thinking I prefer biology. Her stare pinned me back, pushed my shoulders into the upholstery.
“I work the airport in the green uniform.”
Hearing that Cork accent.
“I’m Molly, Molly Piper.”
Such a happer-snapper name.
“You do look like a Molly Piper!”
“I know right? I got that from me Dad.”
“So he’s a Molly as well?”
Laugh she did at my lameness. Blinding white teeth. She so rocked, more so with having the train bumping.
“Yes, Henry. He is definitely a Molly! Such a jokester.”
Only setting my mind in turmoil, she that catalyst.
“Dad would say to us kids if you get caught speeding always have a good lullaby. Dad got stopped out on the Bray road I sang ‘the cradle will rock’ to Garda Edward, he laughed and says douze points! Imagine such a thing! Of course Dad said alibi. I’m so starving, what time do you think they’ll serve something?”
“An hour or so.”
Really not a clue, just needed her to stay where she was sat. Not be wandering elsewhere, anywhere.
“I’ve chocolate and orange, tangerine ones. Thermo flask of green tea, so won’t need milk.”
“Henry you are the God-send.”
Divine thrill hearing her say … Henry. Gave her the grub, cup from the flask.
All of what they have like that video with Marilyn singing for JFK birthday.
“Finish them,” I says. “I’d fry up for breakfast.”
In truth not even a crust of toast had passed my lips.
“This was for the emergences.”
I was that gasping famished, by now I’d have given her a kidney on request.
“I’m going down to see me Mam for few days.” She says.
Wee orange getting sucked by ruby red lips, they’d taste paradiso.
God worked His full extra day to make only her.
Instead of taking His rest, because she was worth that.
Now separating us crushed fruit peels, piled there on the table.
“When we get past Kilkenny we can have some wine. I’ve a bottle, I’ll wash out the tea cup.”
Oh no! Let me drink where lips were. Like a kiss. Did not declare, thinking too premature for that thinking.
“How far are you going?” I asks.
“Oh Cork.” With such a pregnant pause. “You know all the way.”
Then back to staring at back garden banged up sheds and hanging laundry. Now really smiling within her mysterious doings.
“So where are you off to?” She asks.
“To the Brothers.”
All the way too.
“Does he live in Cork?”
“Eh no … pause button fully pushed, then spontaneous. “He’s away in Kerry but he’ll be over. Only the few nights.”
Not asking why am I on the Cork train if he flippin lives over in the Kingdom.
Just one of them things that happen.
“What’s with Kilkenny?”
“My boyfriend was from there.”
She stared away out over the horizon. Now my very heart got all that disturbed.
“He left me.”
Holy Molly!
“Mam will pick me up under the clock in Cork station. I need Mammy now these few days.”
Sported my sympathetic look, best I could imagine to muster. Consumed and invested I was now in this young one’s situation.
“He was such a rat. To me! I even met his parents in their house. Maybe I think they did not like me? I’ve not been sleeping a wink ever since.”
“I can’t imagine … any fella … not … like … loving you.” Says I bold as brass knuckles.
“Do you have a girlfriend in Dublin?”
“Oh no currently unattached”. Says I. “No ball and chain. Playing the field!”
Still speaking English, but observing and understanding cues from another language. Lucky as likely she heard nowt.
“I’ll be sad going through Kilkenny, you’ll likely notice. I’ll have my coat over my head, from Kilkenny down to Tipp in case I see him in the fields, he loves the hurley. I’ll be buried all that time. He’s played at Croke park, even scored twice. That night we were at the Hotel to celebrate! Then after the team with all those groupie girls. After sure we’ll have the wine.”
Near Kilkenny border the train stopped in it’s tracks. From far away in the distance.
“Listen the rooster is crowing! So late.” She says.
“So in Cork you’ll be off with your brother? Only if you had some spare moments I’d show you the night’s life. Some grand spots. Also now so unattached in Cork. My own town! Not dating any more hurley players, think they are so special.”
So now heading to a non-existent brother with no bother to change at Limerick Junction.
‘Cheers!’
As we took sups of Italian wine, her cup borrowed from the buffet car.
“You’ve big suitcase for few overnights.” Rightly she observed.
“I’m bringing a couch for brother’s Kerry house.”
Like the Tardis.
With that nonsense she full flung her hat at me.
The brain has a life of it’s own.
Comes up with stuff.
“Henry you’re the real mad cap. My Dad would absolutely love you! You two are exact! Can I see it?”
“Molly you are that crazy! If I take it out sure that old couch could never fit in this small carriage. Block up the whole place.”
Only skimming and slinging me ad libs.
Do you already take Miss Molly Piper to be you law full wedded wife.
You are correct sir.
Are you sure with certain. 100 times.
Sure I was only busting.
After the wine she propped herself on the seat and dosed off. Do not stare close at the sun they warn. Or this Celtic daughter. Although I’d not look away. Watching her ten painted toes. This for that and then some for me.
We’d marry by the four faced liar,
church in her city.
Honey moon by Kenmare.
Fair old pickle putting outstanding Waterford Brothers out of sorts. Run in to Cork was gloomy. Ah sure then I saw it all clear. Sequestered bag and bindle, snuck out. Bolted down the train determined to be off rapid by the caboose. So brave with her wine and conniving ways only designed keeping me from dedications. Brain and heart racing faster than flying Scots man. Then with slowing down knew I was on the right rail. Threw the kit through the door, then a mighty jump onto the grassy bank.
On that flat meadow I spies a church steeple off beyond the trees.
—————————————-
Thinking loud
Look sober up, abandon plans? Or spend days in Retreat. When ‘ex’ boyfriend’ thinks proper and wants back in the picture. I’ve been down this rail track before. Right now she’s all casting about, like it’s a relay, pass on sad baton quick. Have me in love with this one then a month more and he’s back. Hurley stick to clobber me. Physical and mental. Sliotar stuck in me gob. I’ve seen them lads on the field all broad shoulders and steely eyes. Girl’s adoration for heroes.
I’d be a pale shadow at best.
Then not even a good bye Henry.
For once I talked sense.
He’d clobber me any day. Any case I’d slipped my name and number under her bag.
I’m not with burning bridges,
happy pay ferry man’s toll.
Palmerston Park swings,
opposite ends of seesaw.
Even monkey bars.
Three Patrons,
on Sunday.
Wishes.
————————————
Church
Alone sitting in empty pews, panting from exertions. Finishing a lemon citrus, train tooting in the distance. Parish Father sees me, sits in the seat behind.
“Are ye alright?”
I blustered it all.
“Bit distressed Father, sure I was only with tempted by devil himself this very morning. First thinking she was an angel on the Cork train. Deceived I was, pretty Molly leading me astray.”
“Is this your girlfriend now?”
“Father I only wanted to marry her soon as I laid eyes, not two hour ago. On way to the Retreat in Waterford. She wanted us dancing by Cork’s night life, seeing she was that unattached. No wheel barrow for hills in Cork streets.”
“Are ye on drugs or what? Sure you’ve been drinking.”
“Devil at work sending me to that carriage with temptress, me not wanting to deviate. She only laughing on the way, does not like Kilkenny county, loves her parents and wanted to see my luggage. Leaped off the train soon as she sleeping.”
“I’d say you’re bit off the beaten track with thinking lad. Are ye sleeping alright yourself?”
“She had me in that trance, overwhelmed! Not even had breakfast, then with the drink.”
“Molly is not Devil’s work, seems you are at a crossroads, young Molly now is mystified. Perhaps still give that road a chance. I’m off to Cork right now, can give you the lift, they’ll be delayed at the Junction anyway.”
Father gave me the blessing, put his hand on my forehead.
“Did you hit your head, significant bump you have under long hair.”
“Hit my head on Frankfort Avenue biking to Solidarity by Three Patrons at night. Bike hit a brick, hooligan put in the road. Groggy but managed the service fine fettle. Swelling better now. I’d been having headaches.”
“Maybe your heart stayed in right spot. Dancing in Cork with a young one better place for you now.”
Aid of fast driving priest got to Cork railway station in perfect time. From a distance there she was under the clock with her mother. Big hugs for them two. Next open arms kissing handsome lad wearing a yellow and black scarf. Kilkenny colours we know. Some granny drops her suitcase, so that shattered I was.
That’s how it was and no less.
Sure feck it anyway.
The Galway Review 