Across the Pond Ch. 01

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An Irish man visits America.
6.2k words
4.63
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Part 1 of the 3 part series

Updated 09/22/2022
Created 08/06/2011
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dagan732
dagan732
426 Followers

Hey everyone! I started writing this a while ago and now I'm curious to see how it ends, so enjoy! There's a bit of Gaelic in it but I won't go crazy on you. Cion's full name is Cionaodh which is pronounced key OH na. The shorter version is just Key an.

*

Cionaodh Malloy stepped out of the lorry and made his way to the cliff which looked out over the Atlantic. The wind whipped his dark, shaggy hair away from his brilliant blue eyes and filled his lungs with the salty smell of the ocean. He breathed out forcefully but the tension did not leave him as easily as the sea air did. He looked out over the water and felt a tremor of excitement. It was familiar, he felt it every time he stood and thought of what lay just beyond. Beyond was freedom. Beyond was adventure. Beyond were the endless possibilities he thought of while lying awake at night trying to keep from feeling trapped. Behind held tradition. Behind held repetition. Behind held the ghost of his past relationships, most notably, but not most recently, Patrick.

Pat had been the first man to tell Cion that he loved him, and for the two years they were together, he was the only man to exist for him. Patrick had shared his bed, his table, his house, his car, his life. He had shared everything but his own heart and had taken that when he left one day saying something about "it wasn't working". Some time after Pat there was Rory. After him there was Michael. After Michael there was a few others who ended in the same predictable way. With the last one, Cion was so tired and bored of it he hadn't even argued. He just let the poor slob drone on and on about his needs till he realized that Cion wasn't even paying attention and indignantly bitch-slammed the door on his way out.

Cion kicked the dirt at his feet and watched his large boot disturb the green grass and the dark soil. A small chuckle escaped him at the thought of leaving his beloved Ireland for America and yet the desire remained. Beyond the water lay his destiny. Behind lived his mother. He so hated being a stereotype of a gay man being shackled to him mum's knee but he was all the woman had. How was he supposed to leave her alone in the big, bad wild countryside of County Mayo. He sighed again and bottled up his tension and apprehension at returning to the life that waited for him and hopped back in the lorry. He would get there someday, he thought and started the engine.

The lorry made it's way, at it's own time, to Margaret Mary Malloy's shop just outside of Crossmolina. It was a small little shop full of the oddities people associated with Margaret, or M as she was known to the townsfolk. Cion walked in and heard the jingle of the many bells attached to the door mix with the sound of the rainforest meditation cd that was playing. His nostrils were assailed by the smell of sandalwood incense which he knew from experience would keep with him for days. Cion was a large man and had to gently make his way through the artfully cluttered store for fear of knocking something over. He had made it halfway when his mother came from the back room dressed in a large orange caftan that made her look like a pumpkin.

"Ah Cion. Conas a ta tu, mo mhac?"

"Taim go maith, Ma. Conas a ta tusa?"

"Well enough." She went on speaking Gaelic. "Did you happen to see Father Murphy out there?"

"I didn't."

"He's been in three times this week trying to get me in to church."

"Maybe you should go. It has been a while."

"There's a reason it's been a while." M's back stiffened. "I've no need to go to church to hear funny little superstitions over and over and have those people pass judgements on me for not looking a certain way. Little biddies with their little church hats and beady eyes. No thank you. I've God enough right here."

"For a price, Ma."

"Hush your mouth, boy. God's the best seller there is next to sex."

"Ma!"

"Well He is and always has been. Sure and the Church hasn't sold Him enough over the years. I've always been of the mind that He shouldn't have made sex so enjoyable that people would rather have it than pray, but that's just me."

"And you're my Ma and I don't want to hear words like that coming from you."

"Oh grow up, son. I've had sex once or twice in my years. You might want to come around to the fact."

"I've come round to it. I just don't want to come round to it again and again." M laughed and her face seemed to shed years. In her day she had been the prettiest girl in the county and now twenty nine years later, it was still apparent when she smiled.

"What's wrong with you today? Your aura's all wrong."

"It's all the red meat I've been eating." Cion answered dryly.

"You're damn right it is, but that's not it. Your heaviness is weighing you down."

"What heaviness is that, Ma?"

"I surely don't know or I'd have said it and not been so vague about the 'heaviness'. Why don't you tell me?"

"Cause I don't know what you're talking about."

"Shite, don't joke with the jester he's heard 'em all."

"What does that even mean?"

"It means tell me if you want, don't tell me if you don't want, but don't lie to me, boy. I've seen it all and heard the rest."

Cion picked up a small stature of Kwan Yin and fiddled with it in his hands.

"You're thinking of Andrew?" M asked. Cion had been blessed with so open a mother that she hadn't batted an eye when he had told her he was gay. Sometimes though, he wished she weren't as comfortable as to ask him about his sex life.

"Who?"

"Andrew, the boy who left you? The one you've been spending time with? Remember him?"

"Barely. No. It's not Andrew. He said it wasn't working and I had just been trying to find a way to tell him myself."

"Fine. If it's not that boy, then it's another boy."

"It isn't."

"All right. Then you don't want me to know."

"I don't. Not really, Ma."

"I see. How can I help if you won't tell me what the problem is?" M sighed, a sound remarkably like her son's, and slapped her palms face down on the table. "Well, if you're not going to tell me what's wrong, you can come in the back and fix my drain."

Cion listened to his mother without paying close attention to a thing she said, a talent he had learned early in his life. At any given moment, should his mother quiz him on something she said to make sure he was listening, he could repeat word for word the last couple of sentences. However, the overall gist of it was lost on him. He was just about done with the drain, and she just about done with the story of how Anne O'Casey had insulted her new caftan when the bells rang out.

"Hello? Aunt M?"

"Grand," M said in a whisper. "Now you're cousin's here."

"Leave off, he's a good kid." Cion said in Gaelic, then switched to English for Tommy's benefit.

"We're back here, Tommy." Cion called and pulled himself out from under the sink. A young red headed man bounced in smiling from ear to ear.

"All right, Cion?"

"Fine, Tommy. How's it with you?"

"Grand. Auntie M?"

"You smile more than an idiot with ice cream."

"I've got a lot to smile about." Tommy said, not taking offense. "I've got a great family, a great job and a great girl. Life's grand." Tommy chuckled, then sobered. "Sorry about the 'great job' thing, Cion. No offense."

"None taken, Tommy." Cion said glumly, realizing it was too much to hope for that his mother hadn't heard it.

"What's this about the job?"

"I got fired, Ma."

"What?! Why?!"

"They didn't need me anymore."

"Like hell. They've been looking for men from all-." M stopped short in her tirade. "That's it, isn't it? They fired you because you're gay?"

"No, Ma. It doesn't matter. I'll find somewhere else to work."

"Cion, you've worked for near everyone who will hire you in the county."

"Shut up, Tommy." Cion barked.

"Ta bron orm, mo mhac." `I'm sorry, my son.'

"Nil aon rud, Ma. Ni bhaith ag caint le e liom." `It's nothing. I don't want to talk about it.'

M took a deep breath and sighed.

"When are you going to teach me Gaelic?" Tommy asked.

"Your mother speaks it well enough. Why don't you ask her to teach you?" M pointed out.

"I have. She says it's a peasant language." Tommy answered.

"Sounds like something your mother would say." M scorned. "You'll stay for supper, Cion. Tommy?"

"I've got nothing better to do. Thanks Aunt M."

The three spoke of local town things as they closed up M's shop and walked the block and a half to her flat. Walking up the steps, Cion sniffed in the scent of the small apartment and groaned. 'Not vegetarian Chicken and Dumplings again' he thought. Even though he had been young when his mother became a vegetarian, he had never taken to the diet preferring to eat over his friends houses or hiding little sausage tins in his room.

"Smells great!" Tommy said as he bounded up the stairs.

"Stop making a racket, boy-o. You'll shake the house down. Every where you go, you're always bounding here and bouncing there." M called after him.

"I'm just a happy-go-lucky guy, Auntie. That gives me energy." Tommy answered.

"You've got freaky energy, is what I call it. Too much of one and not enough of the other."

"The other what?"

"The calming energy. You need a balance in your life."

Cion stopped paying attention and let them go on with their usual discussion even though he knew his mother loved Tommy and found his energy amusing. M's sister, a stern, unhappy woman who disproved of M's life choices, not to mention his own, came over for tea once a week because she felt it was her family duty. Her son, Tommy, however coming from a strict Catholic family, loved the everything-goes philosophy that his Aunt M espoused and was always a frequent guest.

"Cion?" He was brought out of his mental wanderings by his mothers voice.

"What?"

"Did I ever tell you of my friend, Sharon Burgoyne?"

"Is this the friend who you went drinking with behind your school there?" Cion asked.

"No, that was Kelly Donahue. Sharon was the one I went to Dublin with when we were both supposed to be staying over the other's house."

"No, ma. I don't think you've mentioned her."

"Well, I got a post card from her not too long ago."

"How is she, then? Getting along alright?"

"Oh she's grand. She's a nurse. Has a nice big house. Fine husband. The kids look nice enough, though not too smart."

"That's great, Ma. Tell her I was asking for her."

"Why don't you do that yourself when you go for your holiday. I think she can get you a job. Her husband's in construction and what not. Might be able to get you something for a couple of months. Just for some pay while you're staying there."

Cion was totally confused as to why he was going anywhere much less to visit some old mate of his mum's. "Ma, what are you on about?"

"I don't see the issue, boy. What aren't you getting?" Cion's mother always did have a waspish side.

"Why would I go and stay with someone you used to sneak off to Dublin and drink with?"

"I thought you could use a change of scenery." His mother answered innocently.

"Oh? Where is she? All the way over in Galway then?"

"Didn't I mention? She lives in Queens."

"Queens? Where the hell is Queens?"

"It's New York, Cion." Answered Tommy. "That's in America." He finished as if Cion were slow. Cion felt slow at the moment and had trouble catching up.

"America?"

"The land of the brave and home of the-."

"No, Auntie, it's the other way-."

"Don't be correcting me, ya' ijeet! It's the land of the something and the home of the something else! The freakin' whopper! Who cares?! It's America. They're all fat and lazy and spiritually bereft if you're asking me."

"Ma," Cion interrupted. "I can't go to America."

"Why not?" His mother asked.

"Because...." Cion couldn't think of a reason, at least not a reason he wanted to share. He didn't think his mother would take too kindly to the thought of her staying all alone. But it was too late. His mother had indeed guessed that might be the cause of his reticence.

"Am I so feeble I can't get round without you? In the land of my ancestors whose blood, sweat and tears cover ever rock from here to Cork and from Dingle to Belfast? Am I so old that I can't do for myself in a county I've lived for longer than you've been alive?"

"No Ma, that's not it. It's just that.."

"Cion," Tommy began. "Just go. You know you've wanted to go for forever. Just go before you can think of some stupid reason not to. I'll look after your Ma like she's my own. I do anyway." M smiled and kissed her nephews cheek.

"How did my numpty of a sister get a child as good as you?" She asked.

"I think I did something really bad in my last life." Tommy answered and M laughed wholeheartedly.

"I don't know what to say." Cion asked.

"Cad ta i do chroi, mo mhac?" `What's in your heart, my son'. "An mhaith tu teigh a Meiricea?" `Do you want to go to America?'

"Is maith." I want to.

"Cinnte. Rachaidh tu ar a Meiricea." `Sure. You will go to America'. M looked at Cion and smiled. "Nil imni ort, Cion. Beidh me go mhaith." `Don't worry, Cion. I will be fine'.

"Go raibh maith agat, Ma. Ta gra agam ortsa." `Thank you, Ma. I love you'.

"Ta failte romhat, mo stor. Ta gra agam ortsa freisin." `You're welcome, my treasure. I love you too'.

Cion made the necessary arrangements over the next few days for his trip over seas. His mother had made him get and keep an updated passport since he was a child in the off chance they would ship off to some other corner of the world to experience tribal native life in the Outback of Australia, or find some herbal cure in the rural areas of India. They had both never left the country. Now it was Cion's chance and he was having trouble believing that he was actually leaving.

"You'll check in on her every day, Tommy?" Cion asked his cousin.

"We'll be fine, mate. Go over and have fun."

"Everyday, Tommy."

"Jesus, Cion! You're going to America. They have phones or so I'm led to believe. You can call every once in a while to see for yourself that she's fine. I'll be no more than a minute away the entire time you're gone."

"All right. Right. You're right. All right." Cion droned on, trying to assure himself that nothing was going to happen while he was away.

"You should see a doctor while you're over there. Get some good meds and such. I hate to tell you this, but you're a bit high strung." Cion knew Tommy was kidding but the joke still hurt.

"She's all I've had my whole life, Tommy. I never knew my Da and there was no one looking for the job. Your Ma and Da don't really get us and there's not much effort lost in trying on either side. You and Ma are all the family I've had."

"We'll be fine, Cion. But now it's time for you to go out and find something for yourself. Your Ma made her life and she's happy in it. She knows you haven't been happy for a while. She wants you to go. You know she wrote her friend in Queens, not the other way around?"

"No, I didn't know."

"Don't go looking like you'll be an unwanted guest at dinner. From what I heard of your Ma and Sharon talking away at each other on the phone they're still thick as thieves so they'll probably be excited to see you when they get there. They almost convinced your Ma to go visit too."

"Ma? Leave Ireland?" Cian asked in disbelief. "Shite, leave Mayo? It's unheard of."

"Ah well, people grow and change."

"When did you get so wise, Tommy?"

"Thursday. I think it was something I ate."

"Well, here's to it passing." Cion said and handed his cousin a beer.

The two sat down at the kitchen table in Cion's small house by the sea. Rather than move to the town with his mother, he had chosen to buy the small cottage from her and make his life. He didn't realize then that the life he would build would have been so lonely.

"I'm glad for you, Cion." Tommy began. "I've known for a while that you were not meant for the likes of this place."

"What do you mean? I love this place. I grew up here." Cion argued.

"I know and it'll always be a part of you. But you were meant to go see more of the world than this little corner."

"I'm only going as far as Queens. Not exactly a grand tour."

"It's not, no. But it's a change, or maybe a start."

"You're starting to sound like Ma when she burns her 'special incense'."

"That stuff's magic, isn't it?" Cion just laughed. "When are you leaving?"

"Tomorrow morning. I still can't believe I'm going."

"I'll be here bright and early to see you to the airport. Said goodbye to your Ma then?"

"She'll be here in a bit. She wanted to have dinner tonight and not see me tomorrow. She's no good at send offs."

"No, she's not. Remember Dylan O'Reilly's wake?"

"Ah Jaysus, do you have to bring that up? It's been four years. The town's just starting to forget."

"Forget?! I wish I had a video."

"Never that, boy-o. Do you know how many people I had to apologize to?" The men of the town still giggled at the memory and shook their heads at M's antics. "Right well, you'd best be off so you can be here bright and early to collect me. And you'll be staying here while I'm gone? Your own little bachelor flat?"

"I will, though it made the little woman a bit put out. She actually forbade me to stay here until I reasoned that there was no one else to tend to the place."

"That would be Katey McAffee?"

"The same."

"I'm not sure about her, Tommy. Seems she can't open her mouth unless she's telling you which way is up."

"Sure and she's Irish, isn't she? An Irish woman can't breathe unless she's correcting some Irish boy's silly ideas about himself." Cion laughed.

"Not thinking about changing teams, are ya? I've got some friends I could probably meet you out to."

"Shite! It's not for me. Women may be frustrating but men are damn near intolerable. I should know. I am one."

"Ah well. Tisn't for the faint of heart." Cion added as his cousin stood and made his way to the door.

"Cion, have a really great time. Maybe I'll come visit you."

"We both know you won't, Tommy."

"I'll be here in the morning."

"As will I."

Cion didn't have to wait long before his mother opened the door and blew in with a gust of the small spring squall outside.

"In a few more hours you won't have to deal with the likes of this weather." She said.

"I'm pretty sure they have weather in America, Ma."

"Not the likes of ours."

"No. Probably not." Cion said and let the reminder that he'd be leaving his beloved Ireland stand. "Should I send you something from across the pond then?"

"Oh you could send small little trinket, if it catches your eye." Cion translated in his head that his mother wanted something specific but wouldn't come right out and ask for it.

"A new scarf?"

"Ah no, I've loads of those."

"Ah. A new Buddha statue or one of Lakshmi?"

"Why would I want one from America, when they're cheaper from India and they both come from the same place?"

"Perhaps you'd like to give me some suggestions then, Ma. I'm not good at guessing."

"Well, I wouldn't mind something Native American if you could find it."

"I don't think they've too many Native Americans running about in Queens."

"Well, if you come across something."

"I'll keep my eyes peeled."

Cion took the vegetarian burrito he kept for his mother's visits out of the stove along with a large steak meant for himself. He served them both and sat down to take a pull off his ale.

"You know, cooking the steak with the burrito cancels out the vegetarian part."

"There's no meat in it."

"No, but there's the smoke from the piece of rotting cow you're eating. It got in my food."

"Jaysus Ma, why don't you just bring something of your own then. I'm not giving up meat just cause you did."

"I'm not asking you to, just not to cook them together."

dagan732
dagan732
426 Followers
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