Postcards to America (2 page)

Just then, the last member of the group arrived in the shape of “Corner” O’Connor. O’ Connors’ entrances were always dramatic and this entrance proved no exception. The group nicknamed Sean O’Connor, “Corner” O’Connor, because he always sat or stood in a corner of a room facing the door. Sean believed persons unknown were tracking his every move and were intent on harming him.

O’Connor entered looking furtively behind him. He approached and whispered in Liam’s ear. ‘I have been around the block three times. I’m sure I caught a suspicious looking person following me earlier’.

‘Perhaps he is here already,’ said Liam, fuelling “Corner’s” paranoia.

‘You think so! You think so!’ The blue eyes darted around.

‘Go stand in the corner, “Corner”; advised Liam, knowing that he always did so anyway.

“Corner” pushed his way through the group until he stood with his back to the wall.

Danny switched his glass of white wine from his right to his left hand and laid his free hand on “Corner’s” shoulder.

‘You are among friends now, “Corner”. We will look after you. We will protect you come high water or low tides.’

Danny — now filled with warmth towards his fellow human beings and filled with African plonk - could only take four glasses of white wine before he became confused and started losing track of the sense of his sentences. Danny now held his third glass of wine in his hand.

The group, who heard it all before, mimicked Danny as he continued. ‘We will get you home in one piece unharmed. To the very door, we will track you. God is in your hands. My friends will give their lives for you.’ Then, he added as an afterthought. ‘The Pontiff is ill.’

With those profound words, Danny the ex-priest lapsed into temporary silence.

“Corner” did not hear Danny’s offer of help because at that moment “Curly” decided to shut an open window - the subsequent bang made “Corner” jump two feet off the floor, and he spilled half of his pint.

‘The problem,’ Dr. Hogan offered, a drink in his hand, ‘is that the hospital services are grossly under-funded and understaffed. Of course they are being allocated more resources now but the population has increased dramatically as well.’

‘I saw a movie once,’ interjected “Corner” O’ Connor seriously, ‘where a cowboy received a hit in the shoulder with an arrow. After the cowboy broke the shaft of the arrow off he travelled a hundred miles across country in a covered wagon and still got up and fought when red Indians attacked and threatened to massacre the women’.

The group smiled.

They knew that “Corner” O’ Conner in his mixed up mind confused fact, fiction, past, and present. He spent much of his time watching videos of old black and white westerns. The size of Roy Rogers’ ranch, the name of The Lone Rangers’ sidekick and even the interpretation of smoke signals once seen in an old movie fascinated him. In his mind, plots depicting the hero despatching fifty varmints with a six shooter without having to reload were all a depiction of true events that happened.

‘I have the solution to the long waiting times.’ This came from Bobby Byrnes. ‘X-ray every person that comes to the casualty department.’

‘How would that help?’ asked “Punctual” Mary.

‘Simple,’ explained Bobby. ‘People arrive at casualty and wait to be seen by a doctor who then decides if they warrant an X-ray. Those who need an X-ray proceed to that department and wait their turn. After their X-ray they wait for the plate to be developed, and then they return to casualty to wait for the doctor who sent them for the X-ray in the first place, to interpret the results. Then they wait for the treatment. My solution is simple. Stop all the bullshit; go straight to the X- Ray and cut out the layers’.

‘Can’t be done Bobby,’ “Punctual” Mary insisted. ‘You cannot just X-ray people like that. It is dangerous.’

‘So is lying for hour upon hour upon hour on hospital trolleys,’ retorted Bobby.

Danny kept his thoughts to himself. Too many of his days lately were spent visiting hospitals. You went to a hospital when a machine called the human body broke down. Unfortunately, pages of his machine blueprint were missing and the missing pages added up to death.

Liam took a sideways glance at Mary. She seemed perfect. Mary was definitely more than he ever hoped or dreamed of courting. But could he give a long-term commitment? His job as night-club bouncer meant he encountered many girls with too much to drink; the result; a lot of one night stands. These one night encounters tailed off somewhat when Mary entered his life but were not entirely gone.

‘Isn’t the famine in Africa appalling?’ offered Danny moving the subject away from hospitals. ‘Millions are going to die.’

‘People are always dying in Africa.’ A truism that could apply to all continents that came from Patrick.

‘The problem as I see it is…’ Dr. Hogan took a large swallow before continuing, ‘the problem as I see it is population growth. Let me give you an example. A man is single, inherits a small farm, and lives comfortably. He then meets a girl and gets married and they still have a good standard of living. Eventually children are born and suddenly life is a struggle. Further suppose that their in–laws fall on very hard times and come to stay and you have a catastrophe in the making. Now the earth is the farm and its resources are finite.’

All nodded in agreement except Danny, the ex-priest.

‘Who knows the late John Wayne’s middle name?’ asked “Corner” O’ Connor who choose that moment to ask the same question he asked every time they met.

They ignored him.

“Corner” hurried outside to check the pub’s environs, returned, then went outside to double check. On his way back he asked, ‘Anybody got the answer yet?’

‘We are instructed by the “Good Book” to go forth and multiply.’ Danny’s face looked flushed from drinking the African plonk being sold as France’s finest.

‘Yes we are’, answered “Punctual” Mary after a moment’s reflection. ‘But are we meant to take it as meaning to go forth and convert the existing population to Christianity or go forth and multiply until the population buries the planet in a sea of humanity?’

At that moment, “Corner” O’ Connor headed for the door again. Several times or more during drinking sessions “Corner” would head outside to check if any undesirables were lurking about. Even if there were, he would not have noticed.

Bobby and Danny joined him outside for a smoke.

Since the law came into force making smoking in pubs an offence, a steady stream of punters shuffled in and out of licensed premises to satisfy their craving. At any time, a quarter of the regulars could be found outside in all weathers smoking. With some people leaving for a piss, others leaving for a smoke, and still more urgently going outside to answer mobile phones, it was getting progressively harder to conduct a conversation of any length. People would come and go and pop in and out saying, ‘what’s that?’ and, ‘can you repeat that.’ Pipe smokers were particularly affected by the smoking ban. If you smoked a pipe and went to your local pub in the last hour of opening time for a late drink you might not even get to see the inside of the pub by the time you filled your pipe and smoked it

Satisfied once more that the street outside the pub seemed clear of men in raincoats, “Corner” O’Connor returned, followed by Bobby and Danny.

In their absence, Liam managed to brush against Mary’s breasts. Mary facilitated this by moving to within centimetres of Liam’s hand. While raising the glass to his lips, Liam touched her left breast and lowering the glass to the table he brushed against her right breast.

Mary acknowledged his actions with a sexy smile.

Liam placed his arm around Mary’s waist and occasionally dropped it to her bum when he thought they were being unobserved. As the evening progressed a singsong started. Danny, the ex-priest, sang the “Old Wooden Cross” and “Corner” O’ Connor sang “Home on the Range” to loud applause and clapping.

Finally, Curly exercised his tonsils calling “time” and the punters dispersed to their abodes. Liam’s group were last to leave and only because “Curly” threatened to bar them all from the premises.

Outside the “Workers’ Inn” taxis were waiting which the entire group shared with the exception of Liam and “Punctual” Mary who decided to walk to a nearby fish and chip shop for a takeaway. At the shop, Liam ordered a battered cod that really looked battered and “Punctual” Mary ordered breast of chicken. With their purchases leaking oil through brown wrapping paper, the pair returned to Liam’s room.

Back in the room Liam drew the mismatched curtains and switched on the 40-watt light bulb; which threw shadows into the corners.

‘You want to eat first and then make love?’ Liam asked, not really giving “Punctual” Mary a choice as he undid the wrapping paper from the purchases.

“Punctual” Mary kicked her shoes off and used the bed as a seat.

‘Let’s eat first.’

So they ate first and then engaged in foreplay. Liam removed all “Punctual” Mary’s clothes and “Punctual” Mary removed all Liam’s clothes except his light jacket, shirt and vest. “Punctual” Mary stroked Liam’s scar and ran her fingers through his hair.

‘You want me?’ asked Liam gently.

‘You want me?’ mimicked Mary.

‘Soon?’

‘Soon?’

‘Now?’

‘Now?’

‘Right now?’

‘Right now?’

Their caresses got stronger and more insistent and Liam rolled on top of “Punctual” Mary. His breathing increased and the bed started to rock as they made love. Suddenly “Punctual” Mary pulled away and slipped out from under him.

‘Just look at the time, Liam. I must be off. Sorry love.’ She spoke as she dressed.

Liam swore at his own stupidity. “Punctual” Mary had left him high and dry like this before. He should have watched the time and left the pub earlier.

“Punctual” Mary left, blowing him a kiss before closing the door behind her. Eventually Liam stopped swearing and the drink hit him and sent him to sleep.

*

Liam stirred from his reverie and stared at the ceiling. In the corner of the ceiling, a spider began to spin a web to trawl for food. Him and Mary, were they both trawling for love and would they end up in the same boat at the finish?

Liam dozed again.

This time when he woke the spider had finished his web and trapped some food. The material to make the web must come from the spider’s body, Liam surmised; it must come from the food the spider ingests. So, the spider eats to spin the web to catch food to spin the web to catch food. We are spiders thought Liam.

At the end of the food chain, we get food from the refrigerator and after a period of activity, we go to the toilet and then back to the refrigerator and then back to the washroom again. He knew the proposition to be impossible but he mused to himself that we should move the refrigerator into the washroom and go straight from refrigerator to toilet and cut out the intermediate steps.

With that thought, Liam swung his legs onto the floor to begin the day.

It began on the day of Patrick’s baptism. Outside, the lightning flashed and entered the church through stained glass windows to outshine the lighting in the church. Peals of thunder drowned the words of the priest and the congregation’s responses were reduced to a murmur. Patrick cried and young people joined in because they were frightened of the thunder. Wives moved closer to their husbands for comfort.

The newly ordained priest, Fr. Michael Bourke, awed at the presence of a government minister, dropped the cup of Holy Water used to anoint young Patrick. He quickly recovered and continued with the ceremony. Afterwards, profuse apologies were offered to Patrick Molloy Snr. who brushed off the incident as being of no import while making a mental note to speak to the bishop.

As Patrick grew into his teens, trouble seemed to follow him in direct proportion to his intention to avoid it. Trouble seemed to hover over and around him waiting to strike at the first opportunity.

Take the time he went to close a gate; just at the time a neighbour’s child decided to put his hand in the way. The result: nearly two fingers almost amputated. Or the time he set fire to a pile of leaves which spread to a neighbour’s outhouse and which took two units of the Fire Brigade – one from the next county – to dampen the ashes of the building.

One of the most memorable incidents of his teen years occurred when he accidentally spilled a contaminant into the only supply of drinking water for the area. No person in the locality got any sleep for two days. Things got so bad that the number of people wanting to use the toilets exceeded the number of toilets. Because of the shortage of toilets, people would go out to make their number 2 behind bushes and hedgerows where they would meet their neighbours. People who avoided their neighbours and choose not to converse for years suddenly found that they possessed something in common - an urgent urge to S**T.

Because of the contamination the nearest downwind municipality declared an emergency and would have debunked to underground shelters for safety. Only one small item stopped them. The Municipal Manager – who possessed the only set of keys, happened to be away on a junket in Barbados. The theme of the conference: “Housing standards in a subarctic environment”. The manager – though booked to speak at the conference - actually spent his time sailing the ocean with an all woman crew. He would catch up on the conference notes on the plane home. None of the managers – who came from all over Europe – actually attended the conference.

By the time the manager returned the crisis showed signs of easing. A period of prolonged rain several days later dampened the smell and prevented the outbreak of a disease with a long Latin name.

Local shopkeepers and chemists who made a large profit by trebling the price of toilet paper and anti-dysentery tablets, flew off on sunshine holidays on the backs of the profits that they made.

The local Hospital Board petitioned the minister for funding to open a Tropical Disease Department and received a promise from Patrick Molloy Snr. that he would do everything in his power to bring their request before government at the first opportunity.

Trouble also followed young Patrick onto the sporting field. While jumping to head a ball, his extended fingers nearly poked out an opponent’s eye. And in another incident, a sliding tackle did manage to break a goalkeeper’s leg.

Later a whole new universe of potential trouble opened for Patrick. With his testicles moving South and his penis heading North, he discovers girls. And girls were responsible for his first expulsion from a school.

As a dare from his classmates Patrick removed his clothing and ran around the sports field. The fact that his antics were watched by a large group of giggling and screaming young females probably led to the severity of the punishment. Lowering the moral tone of the school intoned the headmaster as he viewed a picture of Patrick’s butt on a mobile picture phone. Even Patrick Molloy Snr., with all his influence and promise of funding for a badly needed new school roof, could not make him reverse his decision.

During this time young Patrick learned more about politics and the machinations his father took part in. Politicians would call to his house and he would overhear them talking about plots to exclude this person or promote that individual or “pull this or that stroke”. Gradually young Patrick formed a firm opinion that he would never follow his father into politics: a slightly hypocritical stance this because he still used his father to get him out of trouble when the need arose. Young Patrick also noticed that his father excluded his mother from his political circle and left her to look after him, the house, and to participate in the odd woman’s organisation.

Patrick’s new school happened to be co-ed and Patrick quickly settled in and became popular especially when they found out the reasons for his expulsion from his previous school. Before he enrolled at his new school his father took him aside and warned him about staying out of trouble. Patrick gave an undertaking that he would do his best.

Patrick reckoned without the girls.

Each day Patrick exercised in the gym. For an hour or so, he punished his body on the parallel bars and on the ropes until his body glistened with perspiration and he felt exhausted.

With his back to the door and preoccupied with his exercise routine he never noticed the three girls entering the gym and creep up behind him. All three girls suppressed giggles as they removed items of underwear and placed them on the exercise horse.

‘Hi Patrick! Can we use the ropes?’

‘OK! Patrick replied,’ turning around surprised. He shimmied down the rope to the floor.

‘Give us a push up,’ the red-haired girl asked, gripping the rope as she began to climb. Patrick grabbed her posterior and began to shove. Her bum felt firm underneath her mini skirt.

‘Us next,’ cried the other two blonde girls as they began to climb.

Patrick could see trouble coming but could not figure out what it might be. School rules stipulated that a male and a female student should not be alone in the gym. They were four of them present now. A part of his brain told him to depart at speed but his groin sent signals suppressing that good advice.

‘Patrick, come and hold the rope steady?’ The red-haired girl continued to climb until she dangled about seven feet off the ground and then she began swinging back and forth on the rope. Patrick grabbed the rope, held the end, and looked up.

Just then, the gym door opened and the sports teacher entered. A woman in her early fifties with a stern face and with hair tied straight back; this particular teacher ruled the gym with an iron rod. As she entered a breeze swept round her into the confines of the gym. The gust lifted the short skirts the girls were wearing and exposed their naked pelvic regions.

The sports teacher grasped the exercise horse for support and touched the three pairs of panties.

‘Oh! Oh! She cried,’ lost for words and pulling her hand away from the undies.

Patrick continued to watch the sights as the girls descended the ropes and with a wave, departed giggling.

Next day the headmaster summoned Patrick to his study. Already seated were the headmaster, the school chaplain, and Patrick’s father. Patrick’s father looked at his son and shook his head.

The headmaster looked over his glasses and began proceedings.

‘I have a report here from the sports teacher about unbecoming behaviour that took place in the gym yesterday. Would you care to explain?’

So, Patrick explained.

‘You are saying that you are the innocent party? Is that your story?’ The school chaplain spoke with a cutting voice.

‘Exactly.’

‘You mean to say that three girls entered the gym and removed these - the headmaster opens a bag and places three pairs of panties on the desk in front of him - without a word of encouragement from you?’

‘Yes.’

‘I believe my son.’ Patrick Snr. thought it time to intervene. ‘If he says that he is the innocent party in all this: then I believe him. He is a very popular boy. He should be given the benefit of the doubt? He is not a voyeur. If he wants to look at a girl’s equipment then he has other means besides getting them to climb ropes…’ Patrick’s father stopped speaking when he realised the import of the words just spoken.

‘You have been expelled from one school, Patrick and we did your father a favour by taking you in. You have broken that trust by your behaviour. If word gets out you this incident parents will withdraw their children from this school. I cannot and will not let that happen, even for your father. Even for a minister. You are expelled.’

Father and son rose to leave.

‘What did you see, Patrick?’ Asked the school chaplain as father and son headed towards the door.

Young Patrick thought for a moment. ‘The redhead has not died her hair.’

*

‘What the F**K am I going to do with you?’ Patrick Snr. asked his son later, his voice shaking with emotion. ‘Expelled from two schools and large sums of money paid out in compensation. If the newspapers get hold of this, they will have a field day. I can see the headlines now; ‘MINISTERS’ SON FAILS TO KEEP HIS PANTS ON.’ I will be a laughing stock in parliament. He could envision some of the questions: ‘Is the minister’s salary adequate to clothe his family?’ or, ‘Do we need more nudist facilities in this country?’ or, ‘Does the minister care a fig leaf for his constituents?’ Of course, the Speaker of the House would rule the questions out of order but the damage would be done to his image. And in politics image was everything.

Patrick Snr. sat down and rubbed his eyes.

‘I didn’t run around with my clothes off this time,’ answered Patrick. ‘You’re talking about an incident that happened at my previous school.’

‘This time, the last time, what does it matter? How does enticing underage females to take their clothes off sound to you?’

‘For the last time I didn’t do it.’

‘You were caught in the act. Another five minutes and you would have been climbing the rope.’

Patrick did not know what to say. He wanted to go to university, get a degree and be independent.

‘Patrick, I want you to take over my seat when I retire. I want you to continue the tradition and pass it on to your children in turn. It can be a rewarding life.’

Also corrupt, vicious, backbiting and morally bankrupt, Patrick. Thought, rubbing an insect bite on his leg. He kept his thoughts to himself.

Patrick Snr. continued, ‘I will try some other schools and see if I can get you admitted. Some school somewhere must need funding urgently. And this time keep your pants on.’

Patrick unselfconsciously checked his pants belt.

Eventually his father found a school and the family moved nearer the municipality. Time passed and Patrick progressed to university. Trouble still hovered around Patrick but nothing serious happened – except for the time a person or persons unknown stuffed his team shirt down a drain and flooded a complete floor - to mar his studies.

Both of Patrick’s parents attended his graduation. Patrick could see that they were proud as punch and he felt glad for them. Did he ever think he would get this far? Of course, he owed a debt to his parents and especially his father who pulled strings and bribed headmasters when needed. Still, all the exams were passed without cheating. “All my own work,” as the saying went. Now he would concentrate on getting a job and gaining independence.

It’s proving harder than I thought, Patrick acknowledged after six weeks of interviews and posting CVs to potential employers. Most of the prospects on offer were lowly paid, mind bogglingly repetitive or needing two years’ experience.

After much searching, he managed to secure an interview with an insurance company. After a battery of tests, he faced three interviewers across a table. “Pin-stripe” sat on his left, “Neat-tie” sat on his right and “Dyed Hair” sat in the middle.

‘You know that this is a very responsible position, ‘said “Pin-stripe”, trying to look serious and playing with his pen, ‘You would be the face of the company that the customer sees.’

‘I understand that,’ Patrick replied, looking for the appropriate response.

‘Neat dress is essential at all times… at all times,’ repeated “Dyed Hair” looking at Patrick’s year old suit and slightly scuffed brown shoes.

‘This is not my best,’ Patrick lied.

‘Your father is the minister?’ “Neat Tie” asked.

‘That is so.’

‘Your responses are not very forthcoming, Patrick. We expect our insurance team to be expansive.’

‘I’ll try to do better, Patrick promised,’ shifting slightly in his chair. He rubbed the toe of his left shoe with the sole of his right brown loafer. He wished he could remove his tie and undo the top button on a shirt grown too small. Trouble approached; he could smell it. He remembered when trouble sneaked up on him in the gym all those years ago.

All three interviewers wrote on their pads.

‘What’s your favourite colour, Patrick?’

‘Red…No green.’ Patrick had never thought seriously about colour. ‘I suppose green is a restful colour.’

Three interviewers glanced at each other and scribbled.

Indecision, thought Patrick, must avoid indecision.

The questions now came thick and fast.

‘Do you believe in sex before marriage?’

‘What are your thoughts on global warming?’

‘Is the European Union democratic?’

‘What are your thoughts on the Vietnam War?’

‘Kennedy, Nixon, Saigon, The Mekong Delta, Saigon, Napalm, Air Cavalry, Hanoi, and the Tet Offensive,’ answered Patrick. His mind started to wander. He crossed and uncrossed his legs and thought about opening his tie.

“Dyed Hair” looked pointedly at Patrick. ‘That is not the answer we seek. Do you believe American involvement to be right or wrong?’

How do I answer this question, thought Patrick; perspiring, he tried to find a middle way. ‘Wars in general are wrong, solve nothing, and the protagonists end up negotiating.’

Patrick thought his answer satisfactory until he saw a slight shake of “Pin– stripe’s” head as he wrote so he decided to add a rider. ‘Of course, there can be “Just wars”.’