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"I think I should warn you." He comes closer. "My brother's a priest."
We're both completely still for a few seconds as I consider it. "Thanks," I say, and move from the driveway.
I walk away, thinking, It's still better than a wife-beating rapist.
"How many times do you want me to tell you?"
"You're sure now?"
"It's not me, Ed. If it was me, I'd tell you."
I'm having this conversation with my brother, Tommy, on the phone. My thoughts have wandered toward him after being led to the river and the stones of home. To my knowledge, Tommy's the only other person who knows we went there since we never told anyone. We always thought we'd get a good hiding for going that far up the river alone. Then again, maybe someone knew but chose to ignore it. We could both swim.
Earlier, I told him about the cards, to which he said, "How does this sort of thing always seem to happen to you, Ed? If there's anything weird floating around, it always manages to land on you. You're like a weird-shit magnet."
We laughed.
I thought about it.
Taxi driver. Local loser. Cornerstone of mediocrity. Sexual midget. Pathetic cardplayer. And now weird-shit magnet on top of it.
Admit it.
It's not a bad list I'm building up.
"How are you, Tommy, anyway?"
"All right. You?"
"Not bad."
End of conversation.
It's not Tommy.
We've had a bit of a cardplaying drought lately, so Marv organizes a big night. The decided venue is Ritchie's place. His folks have just gone on holiday.
Prior to going to Ritchie's, I head over to Henry Street and have a look for Thomas O'Reilly. As I walk there, my stomach fidgets inside me and my hands search for my pockets. The street's a complete shocker and has always been renowned for it. It's a place of broken roof tiles, broken windows, and broken people. Even the father's house is pretty objectionable. I can already tell from a distance.
The roof is corrugated, red, and rusty.
The walls are a dirty white fibro.
Blistered, sore-looking paint.
Crippled fence, struggling to remain standing.
And a gate that's in agony.
I'm nearly there when I realize there's no way I'm going to make it.
Three very big men step out of an alley and start asking me for things. They never threaten, but their presence alone makes me feel very awkward and alone.
"Hey, man, you got forty cents?" asks one of them.
"Or cigarettes?" says the next.
"Do you really need that jacket?"
