Everything Has Its Time
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«Dad, I promise that when my searching yields results, you’ll be the first to know.»
«So, you mean that you’ve decided to search for a mastodon?» he grunted unpleasantly, «If so then I fear you’ll not be having results soon.»
«To be honest, the men I meet are young, and pretend to be of impeccable upbringing and venerable background. But then I see they’re just haughty, blue eyed snobs with crooked teeth and, sorry, but bad breath. And some of them would be nothing if it wasn’t for their parents’ chequebooks. You know, the more I get to know the world, the less I think I can find a man I can love truly…»
«These youngsters spend twelve years at boarding school, where they are whipped for walking out of step, and so they lose their independence of thought. And as a result, they consider us Irish to be good for nothing except drunken dancing. You’re a very smart girl, Erin. You understand how people work. But you also must listen to your heart… Often it is only the heart, not cold calculation, that tells us what to do next…»
«Yes of course, Dad. I have decided that, when my heart starts to beat faster, this is a signal that the man of my dreams is in front of me, a real and whole souled man, like you, Dad… Someone who will not complain, won’t reproach anyone, or blame anyone for their failings.»
«I don’t doubt that you’ll find the right man in the end. Marriage is not a joke… It can change your life forever. But you will succeed. You deserve great happiness, Erin! Open your heart for the right person’s arrow. Just don’t forget, please, that whoever you choose, he must be…»
«Irish, Dad!» she stated firmly.
«Precisely! And what else?» Kevin quizzed her. His eyes stared straight into hers, reminding her that these criteria were of vital importance.
«And a Catholic!»
«Clever girl! These are the answers I was expecting. That you know them calms me,» he nodded with satisfaction.
At that moment someone knocked timidly on the door, and came in without a hurry, his Kathryn.
2. Kathryn
«Happy birthday, dear! And happy St Patrick’s Day!» she kissed her husband first on one cheek, then on the other, and sat down quietly beside him, putting a stylish leather handbag on the floor, which was grey to match her dark blue dress. She reckoned the bag was big enough to accommodate all her essentials whilst being sufficiently elegant at the same time. It was noticeable, however, that in her choice of dress she was somewhat more conservative and preferred something more old-fashioned, colours towards the more modest end of the spectrum.
There are women of stunning beauty and charm, and then there are women who are simply adorable, the kind that one would not leave for anyone else. Despite the external coldness of her typically Nordic appearance, Kathryn was certainly one of the latter. Her air of aloofness, emphasised by her light skin tone, with hair to match, and her long face, made her look more like a being from Scandinavian folklore, be it a fairy, an elf, or a mermaid.
However, given her advanced age, one might even dare to call her a snow queen. She was of pure Irish blood, yet possessed none of the strong will, intransigence, or rigour which often characterise such women. Quite to the contrary, her character was sophisticated, gentle, and dignified.
«Why are we sitting in silence on such a marvellous day, eh?» she asked her daughter, turning to look at her. «Be a dear and put on some of Dad’s favourite music. You’d like that, wouldn’t you dear?» Erin looked at her father and suggested, «The Dance of the Elves to start with?» and she reached over to the tape recorder standing on the windowsill.
Here, however, in a neat little frame under a layer of glass, there was an old photograph, one of her parents’ most beloved pictures, from which they, still so young, beautiful, and perfectly happy, looked out at her… Her eyes fell on the picture, and her heart missed a beat…
Kevin announced his choice, «First I want Celtic Dreams, if it’s there. When I came to Birmingham, I couldn’t bring all of Ireland with me, so I just brought a longing for her…»
«I’ve brought you our trademark mutton rag`u and Barmbrack cake shaped like a shamrock with emerald icing. Erin made cream to go with it. Tuck in! You’ll have some, won’t you dear…»
«Can I have a pint of Guinness?» he interrupted his wife impatiently, «I know you brought some…»
«Kevin, the doctors forbade you from having even a drop of alcohol, which includes beer. You’ll get worse beyond repair…»
«I can’t get any worse than this. If you don’t let me down a Patrick’s Chalice today, don’t even think about asking me to eat those culinary masterpieces of yours… I won’t even touch them…»
«Alright dear,» Kathryn caved in; she knew that arguing with him was pointless, especially today, «on second thoughts, you should be allowed a drop or two on this sacred day.» She began to place the items on the bedside table, and a minute later she had improvised a spread for the occasion.
«I have a little present for you dear,» she got out a small clay figure, it was a dumpy little man dressed all in green. He was mending his left shoe.
«Ah!» said Kevin and smiled, «A leprechaun! My favourite fairy-tale creature. Thank you, Kathryn!»
«May he make all your dreams come true!»
«When we drink, we get drunk…» quietly and weakly, Kevin started to sing, and then Kathryn and Erin joined in on their favourite song, one which had become a family tradition to sing when feasting, and then in unison they broke into a great chorus: «When we drink, we get drunk. When we get drunk, we fall asleep. When we fall asleep, we commit no sin. When we commit no sin, we go to Heaven. So, let’s all get drunk and go to Heaven.»
The singing and the consumption of beer served to ease the atmosphere, it became content and relaxed. Even Kevin perked up. The gathering was evidently in the highest of spirits.
«Dad, I’d like to propose a toast» said Erin.
«I’m listening, my girl» he said, and his eyes filled with even more love than before. And Erin raised her glass and began her speech solemnly, full of emotion and patriotic verve:
«Dear Dad! I wish you to live to 100, and an extra year for repentance… I drink to your funeral boat. May it be built of oak a century old, which I shall plant tomorrow… I drink that God may grant good health not just to you, but to the enemies of your enemies… And may no doctor ever make even a penny off your back… May God treat you with kindness… But not too soon, I hope! I wish that, when you do die, it will be in bed at the age of 101, of a gunshot fired by another’s envious wife.»