Shamrock Open - A Shot of Rock and Rye Will Clear That Cough Right Up (1022 hits)
Category: NoneRating: 1.95 on 25 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by Crystle <crystlesun.at.aol.com> (View user info) at 2006-02-23 00:24:04 EST
Sean walked into the only bar in town. It was old, older than anyone in town could remember, although Father Jacob knew for a fact that his great grandfather had been the proprietor at some point in its existence. The place had also had a name - once. Now it was simply known as "the pub."
Generations of men had spent well over a third of their lives under the musty roof, clouds of stale smoke making the meager lighting dimmer. Here, stories were told of valor, poverty, standing up to the powers in charge, and of losing everything. So many tales had been shared that the walls seemed to whisper them.
Outside, mist was swirling in and enveloping the little village. The sun had set half an hour previously, and a chill was creeping through the streets causing the townsfolk to clutch their coats and mufflers closer and scurry just a bit faster toward home.
As a visitor, Sean felt out of place and oddly like he was visiting a movie set. He'd come to Ireland like so many had, to find a part of himself. Unlike the typical American, though, he hadn't come with romantic notions of leprechauns and rainbows mixed into some ancient family tree. He was looking for the man who had kept his mother from him.
Growing up in California, Sean hadn't even known he was motherless until his early teens. His father worked as a script writer for one of the late night shows, and he had had a series of step-moms. He had always assumed his birth mom had been a typical Hollywood bimbo who had temporarily captivated his father's attention before running after a bigger name.
At thirteen, hiding in the attic smoking forbidden cigarettes with a few of his friends, trying to be impressive, he had noticed that one of the old trunks was open slightly. The trunks had been there for as long as he could remember, always locked and dusty. When he was younger he used to pester his dad to let him dig into them - he had been sure that there was some old forgotten pirate gold or a civil war musket or even a map leading to untold riches. Never mind that he lived in tract housing built just a decade before his birth. When you are 5, that doesn't matter, pirates could have crawled in while your family was asleep and left a trunk that no one knew about.
So when he noticed the trunk was open, Sean's old curiosity popped up in eager youthful anticipation. But "too cool" for digging in dusty trunks with his friends there, he turned back to the conversation at hand - girls, cars, bikes, and the best new trick. But the trunk stayed in the back of his mind with a burning intensity so great that it seemed to be calling his name.
After his friends had gone, Sean raced back to the attic and knelt in front of the trunk. He lifted the lid, the hinges audibly protesting the movement, and peered through the dusty air into the chest. He hurriedly pushed aside the baby clothes and dresses that were yellowed with age, and soon found a picture atop a packet of letters tied together with plain brown twine. He glanced at the picture and was about to put it aside when he recognized his father. Long shaggy hair, tie-dyed shirt and corduroy bell bottoms gave away the time period the picture had been taken in, and Bill was smiling a goofy grin at the woman holding an infant standing next to him. A closer look revealed that he was the baby. The picture was just like the ones his dad had lining the hallway, but the woman hadn't been in any of them. Was she his mother?
Sean turned over the picture and read "Bill and Chloe, with Sean. Kinsale, County Cork, Ireland. May 1974"
With impatience typical of youth, rather than reading each letter, Sean skimmed, picking up bits and pieces. Although only one side of the exchange, the letters were enough for him to pick up the pain, longing, love, loneliness, and finally despair so intense that he physically winced as he read it.
Bill had lived in Ireland for a few years while working with a director on a movie. Charmed with the quaint surroundings, he had fallen for one of the extras on set. Free love had reached Ireland, and although most natives had dismissed it as blarney, Chloe had fallen for Bill's charms and embraced the lifestyle. Having left her family to live with the other extras, it was an easy decision to move in with Bill. Soon after, she was pregnant and no longer working. Two months before the movie closed set, she gave birth to Sean.
Filming ended, packing up to go home, Bill was astounded to find that Chloe wouldn't leave her widowed father alone in Ireland. Unwed, she would have been shunned at home and her father would have died from shame, so she couldn't take the baby with her. Together they decided that Bill would return to California with Sean, and Chloe would return her father and persuade him to move to America.
The old man was more stubborn than the two had anticipated, and had refused to move. He forbade her to speak of his grandson, firm in his insistence that Chloe marry a nice Irish lad and settle down. As the months turned to years, Chloe's letters chronicled her journey from optimistic scheming to loneliness and despair. They got shorter and further apart, eventually stopping all together.
As Sean pulled the last letter out of the envelope, a piece of old newsprint fell to the floor. Picking it up carefully, he saw that it was a death notice - not even a full obituary. Chloe Sinead McAuliffe. Born August 18, 1952, died September 04, 1978. Cause of death - unknown.
Sean put the clipping and the picture aside, carefully tied up the letters and replaced them in the trunk under the clothing. In his room, he hid his treasures under his socks.
12 years later, Sean had returned to Kinsale, a place he didn't remember, to find a man he had never met.
Glancing around the small tavern, Sean headed for the bar. He ordered a pint and sat to drink it. He had spent the day looking through the parish registry of marriages and births, and had found his mother's birth record. His own had not been recorded. Chloe's father had been listed on her birth record, and Sean felt that his search was nearing completion.
A few men sat around various tables talking quietly. An occasional blast of laughter would punctuate that thick stale air. In the corner by the fireplace one sat alone, so still that Sean thought perhaps the old man was asleep.
Turning back to his drink, Sean caught the curious eyes of the barkeep.
"Notice you've been pokin' around, lookin' at this 'n' that 'round here. Would you mind if I asked what it is yer lookin' to find?"
"I'm looking for my mother's father. She was Chloe McAuliffe, and from her birth record, I believe my grandfather's name is Colin."
"Chloe McAuliffe? I dinna know she had a boy. Colin spends most 'o his days settin' right in that corner. After she was taken, he worried himself out of his mind. It's a sad, sad thing to see a man s' empty. Don't be badgerin' him none, he can't give you any information. Most he does nowadays is just sit. "
Sean heard the bartender, and felt a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach. His disappointment threatened with a burning sensation behind his eyelids. He felt his anger churning inside. Draining the last of his glass, he mentally shook himself. Here was his only link to his mother, the one responsible for keeping her from him. He had been looking for answers, a sense of who she was. If he was honest with himself, he was looking for the reason she had abandoned him.
But Colin, the man who had stood between them, the only one with answers, wasn't there...just the husk was left.
As Sean mused, Colin began to cough. His entire frame shook so that he seemed on the verge of falling off his chair. A deep rattle clawed and scratched it's way out of his chest into the stale air.
Abruptly, Sean turned back to the bartender. "How long has he been sick? How bad is it?"
"It's been a fortnight that he's been rattlin'. A shot of Rock and Rye will clear that cough right up, but what's the use? He's got no reason to live. We're just waitin' on him to go."
Squaring his shoulders, Sean breathed deeply, glanced at Colin and then back to the bartender. "I'll have a shot of Rock and Rye, please. Make it two shots."
Drinks in hand, Sean walked across the ancient floor. Sitting down, he introduced himself. "I'm Sean, Chloe's son."
Colin turned toward the voice, his gaze slowly focusing on Sean's face. Sean repeated himself, a little louder. This time, he saw a spark in the watery blue eyes. Colin sighed, his chest rattling. "Chloe's boy." He coughed. "Chloe..." Tears began to pour down the weathered craggy face. "My angel child - I killed her. I couldn't leave Ireland, my home, and she pined for her boy...it killed her, and now it's killing me." Again his shoulders shook as he was wracked with spasms. The spark faded from his eyes and he was once again merely an old man at the end of his time.
Sean picked up the glass and put it into Colin's hand.
Forgiveness is difficult, but losing your past is unforgivable.
User Reviews
Submitted by CaptainThorns (user info) at 2007-09-25 15:40:53 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
God, you just keep getting better as I work my way through these.
Submitted by Danger_Ranger (user info) at 2006-07-05 20:05:36 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
i read shamcock.
Submitted by COMountain (user info) at 2006-04-26 10:43:55 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
Submitted by JonnyX (user info) at 2006-02-23 16:29:41 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
good matchup
Submitted by AshK (user info) at 2006-02-23 14:59:18 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Excellent work.
Submitted by shadow (user info) at 2006-02-23 14:55:55 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by shadow (user info) at 2006-02-23 14:55:46 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
i should have read this one first, a suberb piece.
Submitted by ChristPuncher (user info) at 2006-02-23 13:43:48 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
ROCK N RYE WOO!!!
ITS THE POOR MANS JIM BEAN LIKE WHISKEY LIQUID
BUT I LIKES IT
CHUG CHUG CHUG CHUG
WOOOOOOOOOOOO
Submitted by drivebyasshole (user info) at 2006-02-23 13:42:10 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Excellent
Submitted by inion_de_trua (user info) at 2006-02-23 13:29:37 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
that was awesome. i laughed at the word blarney.
Submitted by sicosemen (user info) at 2006-02-23 12:06:49 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
This made my peener dance like the dude from 'Riverdance.'
Submitted by Susie_Derkins (user info) at 2006-02-23 11:01:16 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Very good, loved it!
Submitted by Nellypaal (user info) at 2006-02-23 09:07:17 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Pretty fucking good.
Submitted by MyNameIsTim (user info) at 2006-02-23 08:50:48 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
phenominal
Submitted by OneCheapGeek (user info) at 2006-02-23 08:20:11 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Awesome. Why don't you write like this more often?
Submitted by MichelleNJ (user info) at 2006-02-23 08:14:29 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Excellent!
Submitted by Wildman (user info) at 2006-02-23 06:58:08 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Nice.
Submitted by phuzzygish (user info) at 2006-02-23 06:30:37 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Awesome. And your last line was killer.
Submitted by rad1101 (user info) at 2006-02-23 02:26:39 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by SiddleyHawker (user info) at 2006-02-23 01:30:26 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
This was really well written. Kick ass men.
Submitted by simple_catalyst (user info) at 2006-02-23 01:23:18 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
well, i must say i'm impressed.
Submitted by Orgasmatron (user info) at 2006-02-23 01:03:50 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Done and done.
Submitted by HadToBeDone (user info) at 2006-02-23 00:38:03 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
WTF I'M NOT READING ALL TAHT!!!!!
Seriously, this was good. Although I had to look up what Rock and Rye is....
Submitted by GodChicken (user info) at 2006-02-23 00:25:23 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
AN YE WAN' SOME ROCK N RYE BOY?
Submitted by maiorano84 (user info) at 2006-02-23 00:25:07 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Sucked me right in. Great stuff.