The Cork Contingency (2 page)

“Yes, but he’s much too old for you now. Last month he turned fifty.”

Margaret scanned the forward cabin for empty seats, it wasn’t too late to change places. She spotted one two rows forward. She gathered her purse from under her seat and started to rise when a little blond head popped up from behind the seat.

His impish gaze locked with hers and he let out an earsplitting scream. His mother pulled him low, but not before he tossed his fistful of brochures into air.

Margaret slumped back into her seat and gave the conversation one last try. “Where are you flying to? Are you on vacation or heading home?” Margaret asked. She held her breath.
Please work, please
work.
Change the subject.

“I’m heading home from visiting my sister. She moved to the US several years ago. She doesn’t come home often enough, and I’m not getting any younger.” Grandma K. stared at her knobby hands. “This year I took holiday by myself and spent a week with her.” A slow smile pulled across the woman’s lips. “It felt good to see her. Sisters can be trouble, but they can also be a lot of fun.”

Margaret didn’t know if she could agree with the latter. Janet ”surprised” her with this trip to Ireland twenty four hours ago and Margaret didn’t feel ready to acknowledge this as fun. She should have seen the storm coming when Janet asked to take her out to an Italian dinner.

“Margaret, look at you! Grungy stretch pants every day, you watch all Dad’s channels on the TV, and lately,” she lowered her voice, “lately, I’ve even noticed you talking to yourself.” She poked a single olive with her fork and placed it between her ruby lips.

“That’s not fair, Janet,” Margaret said, twirling the spaghetti into a massive ball. “I’m not talking to myself. I’m filling the spaces for Dad because he can’t talk.”

“Mm…hm.” Janet raised a pencil-thin eyebrow and watched Margaret stuff the spaghetti into her mouth. Janet had a way of making Margaret do things when she didn’t want to. Six hours before her departure Janet stopped by to help Margaret to pack.

“Oh, Margaret, this trip is perfect for you. All the time you’ve been hiding away in this stuffy house.” She held out a dress Margaret hadn’t worn for years and folded it into the zebra-print suitcase. “You need an adventure,” she said, flinging Margaret’s favorite t-shirt to the floor.

Margaret hurried to pick it up. “Janet, I can’t leave without meeting the person who’s taking care of Dad.”

“Oh!” Janet clapped her hands together. “That’s something you don’t have to worry about. My co-worker’s mother is a licensed home health nurse.” Her sister inspected her perfectly manicured fingers. “She even has experience taking care of stroke patients. I think her late husband suffered a stroke or Alzheimer’s or something. She took care of him for years.”

“Janet, a stroke and Alzheimer’s are two totally different things.”

“The point is, Margaret, she knows what she’s doing.” Janet stopped stuffing clothing into the suitcase. “Listen, sis. This is happening. No more excuses.”

“Fine,” Margaret had said. Her thoughts drifted back to the present.

Grandma K. was staring at her, waiting for a reply.

“Yes, they can be fun, but no one knows how to get their way quite like a sister,” Margaret replied. She wiped her face thinking of the spaghetti.

A twinkle lit the older women’s eye. “Once, my sister convinced me to go out with this terrible flirt of a man. You know, the kind who winks at girls they don’t know.”

“What happened?” Margaret leaned in, braving the heavy perfume.

“I married him.” Grandma K. grinned.

Margaret chuckled.
Someday, Janet and I could be like this.

“You are now free to unbuckle your seatbelts and turn on your electronic devices,” a female voice announced.

Margaret laid her hand on Grandma K.’s soft freckled arm. “Do you think I could squeeze by you? I want to get to the bathroom before the food cart comes around.”

“Would you like me to order you something?” Grandma K. asked.

Margaret ran her fingers across the bumpy plastic of the tray. “I’ll take a soda and some pretzels. Thanks so much.” She shuffled into the aisle and made her way forward.

The sign above the lavatory flashed red for occupied.

Margaret observed the sea of faces before her, so many different people, families with children, businessmen, and commuters all on this jet together.
God, you make such beautiful people.
She backed closer to the bathroom as a stewardess pushed her cart down the aisle and bumped into the man exiting the lavatory.

“Excuse me miss,” a familiar tenor said.

Margaret whirled around. “I…”
Stop staring, Margaret
. “Excuse me.” She concentrated on his heather sweatshirt. “I didn’t know you were there.” Without her heels on, the man towered over her.

“No bother, miss,” he said, stepping aside. “My name’s Donnell.”

“Nice to meet you.” Margaret scooted into the bathroom. She slammed the door, and then threw the flimsy lock for good measure. The wall wobbled as she leaned against it. Margaret ran water onto a paper towel and dabbed to extinguish the humiliated burn spreading across her face.
Why did I have to get Dad’s dark, curly hair and square nose and then get saddled with Mom’s fair skin? This Donnell guy keeps popping up at the worst moments.

The seatbelt sign blinked above the door.

She breathed in one last cleansing breath then strode out. “Eyes on your seat, Margaret,” she coached herself.

“Did you say something to me?” A businessman lowered his magazine.

“No.” Margaret shuffled by Grandma K. to her seat in time to hear the pilot’s announcement.

“We’ll be coming into some turbulence shortly and we ask that everyone return their trays to the upright position and buckle your seat belts.”

The jet bounced like a car on a washboard road. Margaret gripped the armrests and squeezed her eyes shut. The shaking lasted less than a minute.

“Thank you for your patience, folks. You may unbuckle your seatbelts and resume your previous activities.”

“Are you feeling airsick? You were in that bathroom for quite some time, and you look as if you’re sweating.” Grandma K. adjusted her glasses to scrutinize Margaret. “You know they’re saying the change is happening sooner to women these days.”

“Oh, no, no, no…I’m only 32. I just needed to use the bathroom,” Margaret reassured her.
Oh, no. I didn’t even use the toilet.
“I’m fine.”

Margaret pulled out one of the complimentary magazines. The emergency brochure fell into her lap.
In case of water landing
… she stopped reading and shoved it back into the pocket. She flipped open the magazine,
Best Vacations to Lakes and Rivers
. She squirmed. If she got up now Grandma K. might ask her more questions. Margaret started counting people with brown hair.

“While you were sick in the bathroom the stewardess came and took the order. Your drink will be here anytime now.”

Margaret forced a grin. “Thanks so much.” She leaned back against the headrest.
Nothing about today is planned out. All this spontaneity is going to kill me. Is it even possible to plan a trip in twenty-four hours? Why did I agree to this insanity
?
At least the B and B Janet booked for me came up as a five star.

Margaret had sketched out a small list of sightseeing places on the drive to the airport. She pulled the rumpled paper out of her jacket pocket and unfolded it. She retrieved a pen from her handbag and etched a number one by Blarney Castle. She scanned the next destinations, English Market, Charles Fort, the butter museum, and the words “buy cabled Aran knit sweater.”
I have no idea where any of this is.
Margaret tucked the paper and pen back into her handbag.

Her life of late was monotonous. Details of the day to day dropped between the floorboards of her mind, and all she could recall were generalizations. She hadn’t cared, until Janet jabbed her posh, manicured finger into it.

Margaret’s thoughts wandered back to the Italian restaurant.

“I love Dad, too, Margaret, but you have to think of yourself,” Janet said.

Margaret washed her oversized bite down with ice water. “I’m not putting him in a facility, sis, I’m just not. This is where God wants me. I am happy to do it, you should be happy about it.”

“What if I’m not happy about it, Margaret? What if you’re just hiding away using Dad as an excuse not to go and have a life of your own? What if God wanted you to go to…to Africa or something?”

“You’re grasping, Janet. God doesn’t want me to go to Africa.” Margaret poked another forkful into her mouth.

Janet pulled an envelope out of her designer purse and pushed it across the table to Margaret. “I’ve been praying about it, and I think God wants you to get away and see the world just a little. I’ve already arranged for someone to be with Dad while you’re gone.”

Margaret swallowed hard. “Gone?” She turned the envelope over and slid her finger along the seam. “Tickets to Cork? Cork, Ireland?”

“Pull your jaw off the floor and trust me on this, Margaret. I know you better than you know yourself. Plus it’s non-refundable and I used our nest egg on it. Take this trip, see the world, and then come back to use up the rest of your life taking care of Dad.” She sipped at her glass of water.

Margaret looked up from the tickets. “You used your baby fund to send me to Ireland? I don’t know what to say.”

“A simple ‘thank you’ or an elaborate ‘you’re the best sister in the world’ will do.”

“What are the trip dates, it might not work for my schedule.” She took another gulp of water.

“That’s the best part, Margaret, you leave tomorrow.”

“What?” she sputtered. “I can’t do that. What makes you think I can do that?”

“Faith, Margaret. I have faith you’ll NOT waste my hard earned money by refusing, quite possibly, the nicest thing I’ve ever done for you.” Her sister skewered a single cherry tomato from her Caesar salad.

Margaret would be hurting more than a bank account if she refused. “I’ll go.” Margaret stuffed another bite of spaghetti into her mouth, unable to taste the savory oregano and garlic.

After Janet dropped her off, Margaret sat down in the living room with her father. She leaned against the itchy wool couch and breathed in its familiar musk. “What do you think, Dad? Should I go?” Margaret wished her father’s speech would return long enough to get his counsel.

He raised his working arm and then lowered it down again.

Margaret slid closer and leaned against his bony shoulder. She lingered there and studied her father’s lopsided face for an answer.

A single tear escape the corner of his eye and rolled down his cheek.

“OK, Dad. I’ll go.” She snatched a tissue from the coffee table and wiped away the moisture. “Don’t plan on doing anything crazy while I’m gone, or I’ll bring back a kelly green bowler hat and make you wear it for a week.”
I’m so glad I can still count on you, Dad.

The overhead announcement pulled her back to reality. “Dinner will be served shortly followed by a complimentary movie choice. Headphones can be purchased for a minimal fee from your flight attendant.”

The screen in front of her flickered to life. The display advertised two movies, the first a romantic comedy. The screen showed an unattractive woman who, Margaret guessed, would be transformed with the help of friends into a stunning woman who would ultimately find love. The other image boasted a muscular bald man holding a shotgun with some sort of explosion behind him. Margaret gave her order and decided against headphones. She rushed to the lavatory at the opposite end of the plane. This time she would remember to go to the bathroom.

A chunk of meat swimming in a brown puddle surrounded by green and yellow vegetables and garnished with a piece of wilted parsley greeted Margaret when she returned.

Grandma K. unplugged her headphones so Margaret could shuffle by, and then plugged them back in, intent on catching every detail of the film.

Margaret pushed the chunk of “steak” around in the brown goop. Her stomach rumbled. She picked the plastic tray up and smelled it.
Not bad.
Images danced across the silent screen and she took another bite. Avoiding looking at the food improved the experience tenfold. She took another bite and decided to analyze the inflight movie.

The caterpillar eyebrows, frumpy dress, and frizzy hair the protagonist sported made Margaret squirm. She touched the bun on her head. In high school, she’d tried changing her style. Instead of being empowered by change, she’d felt awkward. Once she’d spent two hours braiding and pinning her unmannered hair. She hadn’t recognized herself and pulled it out before the bus arrived.

The movie’s ugly duckling only needed a date with a pair of tweezers and a bar of soap to improve her looks.

Margaret placed her fork down onto the empty plate.
At least it distracted me enough to eat dinner.
She handed the empty tray to the passing attendant and then pulled out her travel pillow, tucked it against her shoulder, and closed her eyes. The gentile roll of the jet coaxed her into a dreamless sleep. A voice startled her awake.

“We will be landing at London airport in 15 minutes. For all those flying through to Ireland, we ask you wait on the plane after arrival. Once the other passengers have exited, please feel free to walk around the cabin during the layover. If you prefer to choose a different seat, you may do so then. Thank you for flying with us, and we hope you choose our airline for all your travel needs.”

Margaret squeezed her eyes shut until she felt the jet’s wheels bump against the pavement.

“This is my stop,” Grandma K. said, pulling her worn black purse onto her lap.

“It was nice sitting with you,” Margaret said through a yawn.

“I hope you have a good visit to Ireland, and maybe you’ll find a nice Irishman to bring home, give you something for that empty finger.”

“Well, I...”

Grandma K. walked toward the exit. She possessed elegance in her movement that Margaret hadn’t noticed before.

Passengers surged forward and she lost sight of the curly mop of white hair.