Caibidil a haon
For most of her youth, Sorcha’s life was a farm tender in a town so small, blinking would be enough to miss it. The fingers of industry had not trailed out to her corner of the world yet and wouldn’t for the upcoming decades. There was no running water or inner toilet. Fords were American luxury items and electricity wasn’t worth the price of wire layouts.
Nothing close to glamorous, but it was home. For a long while, that was it. Sorcha’s life was made up of seven people, two pack mulls, and thirty two hectares of hereditary land. Sorcha had none of any other life and was content. How could she be envious of comforts not one’s thoughts?
Sorcha's first memories are a scattered mess but that’s to be expected of a babe. Some consist of pipe smoke and grumbles from a tall red face man and similar little copies running amuck.
However, the face she knew most of the fair haired lady. She was always around. She fed, clothed, and bathed Sorcha every day. But one day she was nowhere to be seen.
“That’s got a smaller airway. Fan it.”
“No one asked, Fae-loins.”
Faelon, a lad of nine, snuffed at the remark. His face was pinched with a permanent frown, more so than normal, “Not me fault you never listen. Don’t come cryin’ ta me when we got no fire later. I’m off.”
“What?” Pat gawked, “Why you?”
“Because I’m oldest,” Faelon jabbed at himself, “Oldest need to protect the household. Da’s in no shape to work and Aidan’s been out since dawn. Least ye two bums play housewives.”
Sorcha couldn’t respond too much in coherent Irish. She had been seated on the rocker with an old rag doll. Still, the sound of shouting leered her into the kitchenette. She’d known how to walk for a year. The lady who was no longer here taught her, she thought. Sorcha trips a lot. Not on purpose. She just forgot about leaning forward or back too much and smack dab on her butt or face. The lady was always there to catch her and kiss away the pain.
But this time, she didn’t. Sorcha fell face forward. Right in front of the open door with smoke.
“FECKIN’ CHRIST! Michael! Wean!!!!”
Sorcha was suddenly scooped up into the air.
Way, way off the ground that she was used to. It felt weird on her stomach. Why was the lady being so forceful? Sorcha turned and saw red frizz and brown eyes instead of the pretty yellow plaited hair she liked to play with. Sorcha looked around. The lady was nowhere to be seen. Her eyes started to water and a wail came out.
“What in hell’s name were ye thinkin’?! I told you. Watch So!” Pat’s face was bright scarlet, “How hard’s it to watch a wean?”
“How hard’s it to light a damn fire? She keeps squirmin’ about,” The boy, Micheal extended Sorcha out, making her cry louder. Panic filled his eyes, “Shite, she’s cryin' again. What I do?”
“Did she hit herself?”
The boy moved Sorcha's head from side to side and juggled her, “I don’t think so,” Sorcha knew this was one of the two same looking boys who made funny faces for her but she didn’t want a funny face. Just the fair haired lady.
“Sorcha! So! Wanna’ play a game?” The boy tried doing those bouncing and throwing she liked but no! Sorcha wanted the lady! Mama- that's right.
“No! Mama! Mama! Want Mama.”
“Fuckin’ aye,” Michael cursed, “She won’t stop. She wants Ma.”
“What should we do?”
“I don’t know.”
“Go dress as Ma!”
“Forsake, will I yea?!” Michael shouted, “Besides, Da won’t let anyone near their room.”
“Do we go get the picture?”
“Da’s got it,” Michael sighed then weezed, “Ow, she kicked me in the face.”
“You damn muppet. If I turn around and see ye holdin’ ‘er upside down or actin’ the maggot’. I swear I’ll-Fuck!” Pat cursed and a sibling came from the stove, “The stew’s boilin' over. Should I cover it?”
“Eh,” Michael looked past his screaming sister, “Why not?”
Pat did but broth pooled out under the lid and seared the flame making it shoot out. Pat looked like he was on the verge of a full on breakdown, “Christ Almighty!” he screamed, throwing the spoon at the back wall, “Feck it! I’m done. I can’t take much more o’ dis.”
“What’s after happenin’, now?” A new voice called out and thud came into the room when the door shut. Michael and Pat seemed to freeze, fear smeared on their faces with their distilled breath.
“Aiden...”
To everyone’s surprise, no shouts followed. First for the night. Just a very tired, lanky lad stood in the door frame. He was the only one lacking the token Mackenzie red hair from Da and had neither the pinch ‘n twitchy features of Faelon nor the full 'n cheek of the twins. Fair features instead like the yellow haired lady. He had the other’s brown red rimmed eyes but nothing else.
Aiden stood tall and merely sighed at the mess in front of him. Boyo pulled off his cap and toed his work boots off before he gestured for the screaming toddler, “C’mere to me. I gott’er.”
Michael choked, “Aiden, we’re so s-”
“Dún do bhéal,” Aiden held up a hand, “Let’s not tonight. It’s been a long day. You two, take a walk.”
“an bhfuil tú cinnte faoi sin?”
Aiden nodded, “Aye, nothing about ‘this is easy. I know. It was wrong for us to expect two b’ys fresh into school to be Ma. I’m the one who’s sorry.”
Pat paused, “It’s gotta be rough for you too.”
“Let’s not, now right?” Aiden pointed to Sorcha, “We all need to cool down. Come back after. Before the sun sets.”
“Aye,” the twins didn’t question Aidan’s command. Funny, Aidan telling the boys it’s okay to act their age while he’d been only four and ten months older.
Sorcha was passed to Aidan who plopped them both into the rocker and nudged his foot so the wood chair swayed back that forth, “There we go, little duck. It’s alright,” he whispered, “Just let it out.”
Sorcha’s screaming turned to whimpers after ten minutes or so. She was too tired to cry anymore. She slumped against her older brother and he rubbed her back. Like Mama would have, “Where’s Mama? Why didn’t she come?”
“She’s…” Aidan paused, “Do you know why we went to church today? And we saw Mama sleeping in the wood box?”
Sorcha sniffed and nodded,
“Well, Mama went to Jesus,” Aidan’s voice cracked, “Jesus said it was Mama’s time to go to heaven.”
“What about me sister in ‘er tummy?” Sorcha asked, “Did Jesus take her away too?”
“Jesus didn’t-” Aidan’s face was twisted and he pulled his sister tight, “Do you know what heaven really is?”
Sorcha gave an unsure, “Aye…”
“Well, when we get pure sickness or hurt too much that can’t get better, Jesus comes and takes us to heaven. It’s a place where everyone will go so they don’t feel pain anymore. Everyone is fair and warm and safe and always eats the best o’ foods so they can never go hungry. All you do is play with the angels all the time.”
“I wanna go there.”
“You will,” Aidan pulled his sister close, “But not day. You have to stay and go another time. Once ye gone to heaven, you can’t come home, and then we’d all be gutted.”
“But Mama’s in heaven,” Sorcha’s eyes were blurred, “Why did she have to leave? Why can’t we go there to be with her? You make it sound more nice than home.”
“I don’t know why God took Mama and sister so soon. But…” Aidan’s arm shook but didn’t let go of Sorcha, “God must had’a reason. She’d been in pain after many years. She must have been hurtin’ too much.”
Sorcha didn’t know what else to do but cry again. What were they supposed to do, just being children? Aidan stiffened when the door behind him creaked. A tiny thunk followed each step. Sorcha peered behind to see her Da. He looked even more tired than the rest. His whiskers he always took too much pride in were unkempt and smelled great of gin. More than usual. His cane, often left hidden, was in full use.
“At ease, son,” he waved Aidan off when the boy tried to pull himself up. Da pulled the long forgotten pot off the burner. A dry smile strained his weathered feature, “Light dinner tonight, I see?”
Aidan nodded.
“Pat’s never been good at the fire. Best he glad he didn’t try to light with a cracker,” Aidan bounced Sorcha on his knee. Not handing the wean won over.
Da limped over to the kitchen and closed the dutch oven, “Ah, so he be helpin’ ye Ma tonight.”
Aidan bounced his leg some more, “Aye.”
“Where’s yer mother gone to?”
“Outside,” Aidan held Sorcha to his chest a bit tighter than needed, “She was after leavin’ outside to find boyos. For supper.”
Aidan squeezed Sorcha’s shoulder twice when Sorcha tried to speak. Shush he meant. Da made a grunting noise and took up a ladle to fill a bowl of stew. He took a sip and shrugged, “That’s grand. Tell Mabel to eat without me, William.”
“Aye, Ian,” Aidan mumbled, “Oíche mhaith.”
“Good lad.”
The cane clanked away slowly with Da muttering on as the door clicked close. Adian never replied once. As if the conversation wasn't to him.
“Would he be well?”
Sorcha saw Faelon standing in the threshold, work gear still secured in hand. Faelon breathing was heavy and his expression tight. Aidan’s too.
“You should be workin’. Still light out.”
“I was,” Faelon said, “Until I saw Mick ‘n Pat runnin’ out and I wanted to see if you still got control.”
“It is,” Aidan stood with Sorcha still at his hip and faced up to the stew. Sorcha wrinkled her noses, “I told ‘em to take a walk.”
“He’s mad, Adain.”
Aidan poked the stew and restocked the fire. Sorcha swore she saw something move in the broth. She fiddled with Aidan’s shirt, a sign that meant to be let down, “In a moment, So.”
“Aidan, are you deaf?” Faelon walked into the kitchen.
“Needs salt,” Aidan continued to stir the stew, “Shoes, Fae. Off at ‘ta door.”
“Does it matter a’ter today? Ma’s dead. Da’s lost it. Who cares about manners? We need to-”
“Stay structured,” Aidan cut it.
“It’s not that easy.”
“That bad, yeh?” Adian said. Sorcha continued grabbing, “Alright, here. Stay put and play with yer doll,”
Sorcha was set on the rocker again. Not the most comfortable but better than being by the over heated stove. She fiddled with her dolly and attempted to ignore her brother’s conversation. To none prevail. She wasn't interested in dolly. Sorcha wanted to play with jacks instead. But Aidan had said not to move.
Five minutes out of boredom, she listened in. Aidan had lit a cigar and handed one to Faelon. Cloven smoke curled to the ceiling. Up and up. Till it disappeared with the soft whispers. Both filling the darking room.
“Where’d these from?”
“Da handed 'em out,” Aidan answer, “Ol’ tradition that man smokes one the night of childbirth. Thought I was Ma’s brother so…”
Faelon looked at the orange flare, “We shouldn’t have used ‘em.”
“I’m not ‘bout to tell if you don’t. Don't put it out. It'll calm yer nerves."
"Me nerves are plenty calm."
Sorcha didn’t understand. Da smoked from a cork pipe, not a wrapping. Always smelled like watermint and weed. His coat was slung over the rocker where Sorcha was sat. She tried to yank it down to no avail. Aidan stood and moved the lamp next to the rocker, “Easy there, won. Fae, no need to lite the fire. Stoves after been runnin’.”
Faelon made a funny wheeze at his first puff that almost brought a smile to his brother. Aidan closed his eyes and hung his head. Like he always did before a sean nós
“Táim sínte ar do thuama,
Is do gheóir ann do íor mé
Dá mbeadh barr do dhá lámh agam
Ní sgarfainn leat choíche.
A úilin is a ansacht,
Is am domh-sa luí leat,
Tá bola fuar na cré orm,
Dath na gréine 's na gaoithe.”
Sorcha swung his feet back and forth but stayed silent. When Pat and Mich came in, they did the same.
“Tá cló ar mo croí-se
Tá líonta le grá dhuit,
Lionndubh ar thaobh thíos de”
Sorcha couldn’t recall if she’d heard Aidan sing before. His voice wasn’t beautiful like Mama’s but full of soul. He’d always played the flute while Mama sang a ditty or jig. Why did the first time have a funeral song?
“A' cur síos mo chruatan
'S a' crua-ghol go daingean.
Tré mo chailín ciúin stuama
Do luadh liom 'n-a leanbh!”
The song was called “Táim sínte ar do thuama”: I stretch on your Grave. Quiet filled the rest of the evening but for coughs for smoke and one question that lingered on all their tongues.
“Aidan, what are we going to do?” Pat was the brave one to ask.
“We’ll see in the mornin’. One day atta time fer now.”
The boys made decisions at first light. Dark circles under brown and blue eyes as the truth set in. Mama was really gone- dead was the word used when the boys thought Sorcha wasn’t in earshot. And Da was confused- mad was the word used.
Da shut himself in his room after that day. When seen, Da never addressed them as his children. Sorcha didn’t understand everything but listened to Aidan. He seemed to understand what to do. He began teaching the other boys how to do household chores. Washing and cleaning and cooking.
“Aidan, this is impossible,” Michael whined. He smacked the brush on the bricked floor, “No matter how I scrub, it still be dirty.”
“Use yer elbows,” Aidan called from the kitchen. He had taken over breakfast. Sorcha on his hip, face away from the hot oil, “Mich, the table?”
“Almost done, but I still haft’a feed the animals and dress for school.”
“We all need to get school,” Faelon fumbled the fresh batch laundry, “And the fields tend the fields and after need to care for the mules. Shite!”
Faelon nearly tripped over Michael on the floor, “Aidan, this is impossible.”
“Hogwash,” Aidan set Sorcha aside in the corner with her doll again but it was hard to find entertaining. And the jacks she'd yearned for prior. Why did Sorcha use to like them?
“We understand…” Michael nodded.
Pat rolled his eyes, “Oh, yeah it is.”
Sorcha didn’t want to look at the doll anymore. Fraid, limp, and stained. A pointless distraction. She needed to help. Everyone was working hard. She waddled over to the kitchen and tried to reach for the counter. Darn, her legs were too short. She opened the cupboard to see if anything was under there.
“Eh, Aidan...”
“Got it,” Sorcha yipped when she has pulled out abruptly, “What are you up to, little duck?”
Sorcha griped at the air for balance, “Tea!”
“Tea? But you don’t like tea.”
“Milk tea?”
Aidan seemed to understand, “Ah, that’s a nice thought. Thank you but not to worry. We’ll make Milk tea later. Can you do me a favor, little duck?”
Sorcha nodded.
“I need you to, uh,” Aidan looked around and found his school chalkboard, “I need you to draw a picture for us. It’ll make everyone smile.”
Sorcha didn’t understand how a scribble would make them smile. No smiles for weeks on end. Sorcha did listen without complaint, “ fumble around with the black board and scribble away with the white power stick. Pudgy limps only did so much.
“Aidan, your homework on that.”
“No matter,” Aidan remained in his crotch position, “I’m not going back,”
“WHAT!!?” Faelon shot up like lightning, folding abandoned, “You can’t be serious?!”
“I am,” Aidan wasn’t looking back, “I’ll let the church know of my withdrawal tomorrow.”
“That’s idiocy!” Faelon marched up to his younger brother, “School’s the one chance to change our situation so we don’t have to,” Faelon waved around the room, “You know.”
“Someone’s gotta help around the farm and with So. And with Da.”
“It’s not fair to you!”
“Of course, it’s not fair,” Aidan hissed, “Think I want to do this?! Drop everythin’ after I’d worked me arse for. Give up me chance to-” he stopped himself, only for a second. But came back with his usual calm, “It’s not like the nuns will let me back in.”
“You’re suspension is up Tuesday,” commented Pat. Both older brother’s gave a foul expression, “Not me place. Gott’it.”
“Yer a feckin’ gobshite,” Faelon looked like he was about to pummel his brother, “Day’ll come you’ll regret ‘tis.”
“I know, but one of us got’s to if we want to keep the house a float,” Aidan's grin was playful but strained, “You’ll be the scholar. I’ll be the muscle.”
And that was that. Aidan was home a lot more than ever before. Sorcha didn’t mind, she liked it best with Aidan at home. Everyone else looked sour.