I'm working on the Bloody Sunday chapter so here's the remains of what I posted, yesterday.
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Cough.
"But we didn't, did we?" Danny continued. His voice had strength growing in it, again. He rubbed my back; it helped some. "That was some punch you took."
I could only shrug, my throat was so raw.
"And that story you pulled..."
I shook my head and tried to crouch down, to end the aching and the coughing and to hide the slashing memories of that interrogation that cut into me and not let myself get lost in understanding just how close I'd come to it happening, again, but Danny stopped me.
"Lean back against the wall," he said. "Flat. It helps more."
I didn't want to, but his eyes were gentle and far too sure as he pushed me by my shoulders. It was cold, even through my coat, but he was right. I could feel the ache become manageable and my coughing slow.
And the memories slow.
And fade...fade...fade to nothing.
My Chinas just stood by me. Kept watch for me until finally I managed to choke out, "That...fat bastard...he pulled the same...with me. Even more. Just used it...back...on him." Then another fucking cough...but only the one before I could stop it.
"Even more?" said Danny. "You...you better, now?"
I nodded. Cough. Soft but still...DAMMIT!
"Colm," I garbled, "the...the story about you...it...it near happened to...to (cough) to Diarmaid. Being a bloody eejit. (Cough.) I just...changed it a little."
Colm ran his good hand through his hair, eyeing me like I was a stranger. "I'd never have come up with something so simple and believable. By now I'd be down Strand Road."
I could think of nothing more to say. I was still bordered on madness from near going through that interrogation, again, and I couldn't stop thinking of how much harder they'd been on Tur and what it did to him, a full-grown man and...and to think of Colm and Danny...Danny!...going through that, as well...it had my brain caught in a spin, and I started to shake, again.
Colm finally noticed and his face grew gentle, then he calmly said, “C’mon, me China, let’s to home.”
His bad arm was at his side so Danny helped him put it back in the sling. I managed to start walking, that bloody cough still popping up, but only now and again. Colm and Danny paced me. My shaking eased...
Till we turned onto Clíodhna. I saw Ma looking out the door and she saw me and her face screwed into something that told me I was for it, again. She'd gone back to her old self, now that Mai and the wains were gone, picking and angry and demanding. So out she burst to slap me.
“Where've you been?!” she screamed. "I've been looking for you for hours and..."
Colm got between us and said, “It was the checkpoints, Mrs. Kinsella.”
“What're you doing beyond the Bogside! Why would you need to be through them and what's this with your arm?!”
“You’re lucky we’re home, at all, and not off to Long Kesh. Bren kept us from arrest.”
“You and your lyin' ways, coverin' for each other! What could any of you know that they might want?” She slapped the back of my head and grabbed my collar to yank me inside and...
“Mrs. Kinsella!" It was Colm's voice, but sharp and cold. A man speaking, not a boy. We all jolted and looked at him, startled. “I’ll ask you not to hit Brendan, again.“
Other women had come out to see the commotion and if it could make for some good craic, and all were focused on us. Christ, this curiosity could go both good and bad for any.
Ma glared at Colm. “You’ll mind your own business, me boy, or...”
He took a step closer and his eyes were dark and dangerous.
Ma fell into silence and stepped back. For the first time since Da died, I saw fear in her face.
That stopped my shaking, and I said, “Colm! Won’t...won't they check my story? Do you know if...if McClosky’ll back us up? He knows me but not you.”
Colm's voice was like ice. “He will. Once Diarmaid knows.”
“Best get to him," Danny said, back to being quick and cool. He was firing up a Marlboro. I'd forgotten we had those. "Set it straight," he continued, smoke whispering from him. "They always move fast when we don't think they will.”
Colm nodded, his eyes locked on Ma.
Danny noticed me eyeing the smoke so pulled out a fresh one, fired it off his and handed it to me. I inhaled, and it was regular tobacco. I could have wept from gratitude. If we'd been snatched and the illegal found on us, we'd have been at Long Kesh till I was seventy. I saluted him, saying, "I owe you a pack," as I let the smoke out.
He shook his head, smiling. "Bren...you're me China."
Colm gave me a pat on my shoulder. “You’re a cool one, Bren. I’m glad you’re with us, not them. Danny?”
He looked between Ma and me then nodded his head. "Thanks for the offer, Bren, but I've much to discuss with Colm. May not even sleep before tomorrow's bus. Another time?" Then he winked at me.
He was our Danny, again.
I nodded back, sort of smiled at them, and they quietly vanished into the darkness.
Which shocked me. I hadn't realized night had fallen. On top of it, the women had already returned inside their homes, which I'd not even thought about. I needed to start paying better attention to my surroundings. I was getting too focused on nothing, of late.
That's when I turned to Ma...and fucking coughed...and said, “I...I’d not call Colm a liar, again. I don’t think he’d like it.”
Then I went up to my room and sat in my bed and gazed out the window at that ugly bloody yard, behind us. It was clouded up and dreary, so no stars available, but still I did not move. I tried not to let myself think. But the whole situation came crashing in on me and all I could see was how easily that one little encounter could have gone to hell had Danny freaked out and fought the fat bastard, with those soldiers and their batons and gun, he could've been just another dead Irish punk, to them, all three of us could have been and...and...I had to fight to make those thoughts leave my head.
And fight.
And fight.
I had no tea, that night. Just sat on my bed till I lost all thought and woke, the next morning, still in my clothes and facing the window. With my brain finally, blessédly blank...except about that record player I needed to finish fixing.
To no surprise, McClosky actually was contacted by the RUC and he backed us up. As a way of thanks, he was allowed to skip one week’s payment for protection. How kind of our betters.
Mr. Devlin wasn’t so well-treated. I learned later that some men from Belfast had forced him to give over a fine, of sorts, for Tur leaving. It gave out the wrong idea that they couldn't protect their own.
Eamonn's fucking words, and even more worthless. And stupid.
Those who knew of it figured they just needed some extra coin from him and that was their excuse. But all that did was convince him he should close the shop and join his sons. He was in the process of preparing to do so when, three days before my sixteenth birthday, the hell I'd feared came knocking at the door.
Again, courtesy of the stupid fucking British.
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