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Finn parked their rental car down the street from the Murphy home. The neighborhood had changed little since he was last here. As he approached the house with his mom, he rolled his shoulders to ease the tightness. Soon he would be face to face with Colleen again. Excitement as well as anxiety roiled through his stomach.
The grass in the front yard was brown in spots and the once-abundant rose bushes that lined the driveway had thinned out.
Finn grinned at the old plaque on the porch: “Fluent Blarney Spoken Here.” He knocked on the door, but no one answered. Rowdy laughter and Irish music came from inside. He knocked louder, but still no one opened the door.
His mom’s lips curved into a smile. “The Murphy clan is in full swing.” She pushed the door open and urged him to follow her inside.
“Welcome,” greeted an older woman with short, red hair. “I’m Sue Murphy. I’m married to Jack, Jimmy’s eldest brother. Come in and join us. What are your names?”
“I’m Finn O’Connor and this is my mother, Molly.” He had to raise his voice to be heard above all the noise.
“Oh. I remember you,” she said, peering closely at them. “It’s been a while.” He was pretty certain she’d recognized his last name but respectfully chose not to comment on it. “What would you like to drink?”
“Tea is good for me,” answered his mom.
“And for you?” she asked Finn.
“Beer is fine.”
“Guinness? If not, you’re going to have to go fetch what you want yourself,” she said with a wink.
“No, Guinness is great.”
“I’ll be right back with a Guinness and a nice cup of tea,” she said, scurrying off to the kitchen.
Finn guided his mom through the clusters of people who were in the middle of sharing stories, laughing, crying, arguing, and singing along with a ballad playing in the background. It was a typical Irish gathering and there would be no lack of Jimmy Murphy stories to share.
Once he got his mom settled in a spare chair, Sue returned with a cup of tea and his beer. “Here,” she said, handing him the full pint glass, “I’ll sit with Molly. Go and introduce yourself to the others.”
“You’ll be all right?” After the attention they attracted in the church, he was a little hesitant to leave her on her own.
“Stop worrying so much. Go,” his mom said, shooing him away.
With a nod, Finn took a sip of beer and wandered around the room, taking in the familiar surroundings. The sectional couch where everyone had once piled to watch TV had been replaced, but Jimmy’s favorite leather wingback chair remained the same. With a wave of sadness, Finn recalled the many times Jimmy sat in this chair, discussing a detail from a history book he’d read, or letting loose his hearty laughter when the family gathered to watch a comedy movie.
Finn walked over to the framed family photos on the wall—holidays, vacations, and birthday parties. He smiled at one particular photo of him and Sean spraying each other with Super Soakers. The aromaof burgers grilling and cloudless blue skies ringing with laughter filled his mind as herecalled that day and how much fun he’d had with all three Murphy brothers.
Finn peered close at a photo of Colleen carrying a large tray of cut watermelon. It was taken by him during one of their summer pool parties, and it was also the last day he spent in LA. She wore a yellow bikini, and Finn had told her she looked like aSports Illustratedmodel. He would never forget the moment he saw her in it. She was no longer a skinny teenager; she had a supple body that aroused him, but also an intellect that intrigued him. Even after all these years, he’d never met anyone like her, nor did he forget the kiss they shared in the park. Not for the first time, he wondered how their friendship might have evolved into something deeper if it hadn’t been for his father’s criminal betrayal.
Another photograph showed the Murphys dancing in the living room; no doubt to one of Jimmy’s favorite Motown songs, he thought with a smile. He took a closer look at another photograph of his own father and mother. It must have been taken twenty years ago. His father held a raised shot glass in a toast. Finn leaned in to study his father’s face. His glassy eyes left little doubt that he was drunk. His mother’s face was pinched as it usually became whenever his father was drunk because this was when his father could be the most embarrassing. No person or subject was off limits for his taunts and insults, and he wouldn’t quit until he passed out. Jimmy was the only one who could cajole his father into better behavior. With a big exhale, he left those painful memories behind and moved away from the photos.
“Finn?” a woman asked.
He turned to see a familiar face. “Lucy! How are you?” He gave her a hug.
“I’m great. Long time no see,” she said as a tall man wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close to him. “Finn O’Connor, this is my husband, Justin Hamilton.”
“Oh, hey. I thought I recognized you.” Finn shook Justin’s hand. “I’ve been a fan of your music for years.”
“Thank you,” Justin said with a warm smile.
“What have you been up to?” Finn asked Lucy.
“I just graduated. Ph.D. in art history. UCLA,” she said with pride. She patted her belly. “And, we’re going to be parents next year.”
“Congratulations,” Finn said.
