Unexpected Gifts (18 page)

“God knows, Sean O'Reilly loved the drink, but still, Maggie O'Reilly stayed at his side, like the fine wife she was. So here's to Maggie, an angel, both in life and up in Heaven for all eternity!”

He looked around at his guests wiping their eyes with the back of their hands, taking more shots of whiskey, and ignoring me in the corner, where I be thinking with all me might how I was never going to marry a drinking man. Ever.

Fifteen years later, me eyes still green, me hair dark as unlit coal, and me mouth the color of cherry candy, I was a bit of an innocent for all me twenty-seven years. Oh, I did have me chances at marriage, but they be mostly with immigrants with accents as thick as soup and that just wouldn't do, don't you know. I be leaning towards the men with just a wee bit of an accent, true Americans I called them. And indeed, it be a true American I met one Fourth of July at the annual Ford factory picnic. We arrived at the Detroit Plaza Park, and walking up a winding path, past the striped tents set up for hot dogs wiped with mustard and glasses of ginger soda that tickled our noses, we be seeing a lively baseball game in the middle of McKensie Field.

Tommy got planted with his co-workers while I stood nearby, one hand shielding me eyes from the fierce sun and watching the players on the field grunt and shout. Soon, I centered on a single player straddling second base like he be proudly protecting his home. Even from far away, he was taller than most of the others, and his pale brown hair caught the sunlight just so it be looking golden, and when he caught the ball, he had a grace I not be knowing men could have.
It's easy to see a white horse in a bog
, filtered through me brain before I could stop meself.

The game ended and I could see him traveling towards us. I tried steadying me breath, because it was coming out strange, but before I could turn away to look for Kathleen and the children, Tommy called me over.

“Daria, this is Tony Balakov. Tony, this is Daria Brigit O'Reilly, me cousin.”

His blue eyes reminded me of the Kerry summer skies, and when he took me hand, his manly grip was strangely gentle. In an instant me mouth was as dry as the Burren limestone of County Clare.

“Nice to meet you, Daria.” He leaned in, not letting go.

I cleared me throat before I be giving a croak, “You may well say that.” He looked puzzled and suddenly I be remembering I wasn't talking to an Irishman. “Nice to meet you, too!” I answered and saw a big smile crinkle his eyes, turning me heart into velvet.

As Tony and I be walking slowly around the edge of the park, chatting about the fine weather, what parts of Detroit we both lived in, what did I do, what did he do, he was a true gentleman he was, not trying to snatch a kiss right away like the others. By the time we returned to Tommy, it was all settled he'd be calling on me the very next Sunday. After that, although we were inseparable, only a few times did we kiss, but that was fine, don't you know. It meant he be having respect for me. Ach, he didn't have the gift of story like Da, but he was steady, oh so steady, and handsome like Oenghus, the God of Love.

He told me about his da, Andrei, and I not be wanting to face him, but as Mam used to say, “
The blanket is the warmer for being doubled,”
and if I was to end up with Tony, I must also end up with his parents.

Dinner with Andrei Balakov was truly not a pleasure. What a nasty man he was, sneering at Tony and treating me like I be trying to explain me Catholic self to an English High Court. On the other hand, Tony's mam was lovely, talking to me regular, like I was already a member of the family, and when I mentioned first me da's death then the death of me mam on the great Titanic, it was Eugenia Balakov who be stroking me, soothing the lost little girl in me.

Later, Tony was terribly solicitous he was, apologizing for his da every ten minutes. His concern touched me and when he asked if I would be in our apartment a little later on because he would be asking me something important, me heart jumped two quick beats in a row.

“I'll be at home, don't you worry Tony,” I answered, and as I kissed him goodnight, his arms enveloping me like a warm blanket, me mouth opened up under his more than usual and as he turned to go, I swear I be hearing him give out a deep sigh.

His loud knock didn't come until midnight and if I were smarter, I be knowing such a late appearance was a bad sign. I ran to the front door anyway, flinging it open and standing lock still in me day clothes, me nightgown tucked safely under me pillow for later when I'd surely be going to sleep a promised woman.

“DariaDariaDaria,” Tony slurred, his shirt and jacket reeking of fresh poured gin and his beautiful hair tousled out of control. He be taking one step towards me and I almost threw up.

“
Sssshhhhhh!”
I warned, a stern finger to me lips.

Tony managed to kneel down on one knee in front of me and shuffled through his pockets, searching for a little black box which he held out to me, his flushed face confident and hopeful all at the same time. But I couldn't feel anything. Nothing at all.

I glided through our wedding like a ghost I did, amidst a sea of secretary friends, Andrei's scowls, Eugenia's smiles, Tony's sister Adriana, there for a laugh with Tony and not a word to her father, Kathleen's hand-me-down wedding dress with the small four-leaf clover pinned to it, and enough food to tempt the Devil himself. By one a.m., after Tommy's endless toasts, the food disappearing like a swarm of locusts be descending on it and a mostly empty whiskey barrel, the relief about me marriage was indeed grand it was. That is, until me new husband happened by with a quick comment.

“Daria, I gotta tell you, I really love that Irish whisky…whew! That stuff is
strong!
” instantly brought me back to Da's words, “
Wine is old men's milk,”
and before I knew it, I be seeing me own father dressed in a groom's outfit maneuvering back over to the other side of the packed room for a refill before falling down on the couch for the night.

The next night, our Special Bedroom was so dark it was like getting lost in one of the black caverns of Dunmore Cave. I could hear Tony rustling the blanket and sheets impatiently, waiting for his spouse to slide down next to him, but feeling me way over there, even with the proverb
May your bodies please each other like the stars do their Master
running through me head, me pounding heart was telling me I be wanting something altogether different.

“Daria. Daria, are you there?” His voice sounded different, husky, urgent.

“I—I…” was all I could respond.

“Sweetheart, don't worry. I'll be gentle, I promise. Everything will be all right.” With those words I could picture him as Tony, not Da and climbed into bed. His touch was gentle and I began to feel sensations I had never felt before, an aching that needed to be satisfied, an aggression I didn't know I had in me. But the longer we entangled and kissed, the more leftover whisky I smelled on his breath, and suddenly, it was Da I be kissing.

I froze inside while he be in the heat of his passions, far beyond caring about anyone else's pleasure but his own, and when he'd finally rolled off of me, he was surprisingly tender he was, his right hand slowly stroking me white skin, but all I wanted to do was turn over and force meself to sleep.

A month later I was pregnant with Rose, and four months after that, we be living with Andrei and Eugenia and starting me slow descent into Hell. First of all, Tony decided that no wife of his was ever going to work. I begged and pleaded, but it was no use and the day I gave me notice at Brandon was one of the saddest days of me life it was. I remember hugging all me friends good-bye, their eyes sad, wet, with a tinge of worry.

Me days were spent with Eugenia and as kind and sweet as she was, she be reminding me of one of those farm horses that chugged up the Kerry fields with a plow straddled to its back—steady, uncomplaining, and dead to the world. Watching her making sure the dinner meal be good enough for her husband, and her index finger running over the furniture in search of dust, I'd be feeling the skin on the back of me neck prickle. Would that be me in ten years?

As for Andrei, he be a sorry excuse for a human being. “Tony, you do overtime today, huh?” he barked one day, making me think of the phrase,
It is easier to demolish a house than to build one.

“No, Papa. I have somewhere to go after work.”

Andrei snorted. “Somevere to drink and somevone to see, you mean!”

Tony darted his eyes. “No, just some place,” he muttered.

“Vell, vhere? Who?”

“That's none of your business. Frankly, I've had just about enough of you, old man!” Tony jumped up from his seat.

“
Old Man?
” Andrei's eyes be popping out of their sockets as he reached out to grab his son's arm. He missed, and seeing him crumpled on the floor I be expecting Tony to soften towards his father, but he didn't. He kept right on going to our bedroom, his shoes thumping hard on the wooden floor.

Following closely behind, I be watching him carefully lay out a new outfit on the bed. His crisp white linen shirt, pleated pants, black patent leather belt, new argyle socks the likes of which I'd never seen before, and freshly shined half-boots.

“Tony, where did you get all these clothes?” And me still in the same two morning smocks day after day.

“Oh, didn't I tell you? I bought these after work last week.” He stared at me. “What?”

“It's just that I thought we be saving money for things for us, I did.”
May you find the bees but miss the honey!

“Don't get in such a lather! You know how I like to get duked up. Don't you want me to look swell? You used to like that, anyway.” His tone turned bitter.

I started to answer, but he was off to the bathroom to splash on some shaving lotion. Then I knew. Andrei was right, there was another woman. I suppose I should have been devastated, but truth be told, the only thing in me heart was a wee rush of relief, along with me mam's phrases:
Love is blind to blemishes and faults
and
Marriages are all happy. It's having breakfast together that causes all the problems.

One night, when me husband came home drunk again, he jumped straight to the point. The best paying jobs in the country were at the Empire State Building in New York City, working up on the beams high above New York with the so-called High Steelers. He'd be traveling on ahead. Then, as soon as he was able, he'd be sending for me, Rose, and Adriana, who wanted to go as well. As he talked, I felt me stomach flip over like a magazine page, remembering how Da once be taking me to the round tower at St. Declan's Cathedral at Ardmore. We climbed up a narrow rope ladder to the front door, and with the fear in me something terrible, he explained the reason the entrance was up so far was so that the English couldn't steal the Catholic monks’ manuscripts, they be treasured so much.

I closed me eyes and pictured Tony working up towards the clouds then getting dizzy and falling, and I let him have it, how he should think about Rose and me he should. I thought he'd turn nasty, but he looked pleased he did, but later in our bedroom, his arm around me waist and his small light kisses covering me neck, I wanted to make him as mad and scared as I was.

“Will you be leaving us then to go out with the New York girls?” I snapped. He looked sheepish.
“The fish that bites every worm will be caught,”
I added for further effect. But he be drunk and in need of some, and that blocked out everything, it did.

“
A handful of skill is better than a bagful of gold!”
I muttered as he be touching me all over.
“May the only tears at your graveside be the onion-pullers!”
I continued, breaking away to retrieve me nightgown hanging in our armoire.

“You and your damn proverbs, Daria,” he chuckled and followed me across the room. Me cotton sheath was halfway over me head like a shroud it was when he pulled it off and gathered me close to his chest. “You won't be needing that now, sweetheart,” he slurred, pulling me into bed.

Imagine our surprise when we gazed up at the dilapidated brick building we be calling our new home in New York City. A sight for sore eyes indeed, with laundry hanging out on fire escapes and dirty sheets hung in every window instead of respectable lace curtains. Suddenly, Tony leaned out of a top floor window and called out, “Hey! I'm coming down now!”