Chapter 1 :: Page 9

"It'll be good today," Greg said mostly to himself. He turned to leave and stopped. The wind was blowing through. Greg waited then went down the street. Greg passed by O'Malleys often to talk to Jackie, or to get bit to eat from the house. Everyone knew him. Everyone knew everyone. I knew Jackie and he knew my name.
   I settled back down. I liked the cold on my chest from the outside air and when I moved my legs under the sheets the hairs stood until I moved them back to the warm spots.
   It had been a good winter, at least McMill said so. The weather wasn't too cold and the hail came in short bursts. If you could survive the short burst, then you could enjoy the rest of the day. McMill said the fishing was good and he ate well most of the time. He was sick once, real bad, from staying outside all the time. It wasn’t actually from the outside, but from the glue factories where he worked in his youth. His hands still had a hint of green stain.
   I had been working at the DART station at Houston and had a bit of money saved up. I didn't know what it was for so I gave it to McMill. I think he got himself a room somewhere and healed up. I was glad I had done it, but at the same time, I couldn't pay O'Malley for a long time. She never asked, but I always thought about what I owed. I saved up again, many times, but I rarely paid my debt to her. We had fallen into an awful habit.
   I slept for awhile, then the day began. I had the day pretty much to myself. Tomorrow I started a new job in Dublin. I was getting short of money and had to go back to work. For three months, I was a train ticket checker. There wasn’t a better job description. Everyday, Dublin to Galway and back. Always moving all the time, just what I thought would be nice to be doing, but then I thought I was moving too much and the rides became tedious, the same exact patterns, and the feet of the hiker's filled up the small cabins and the bubble gum and wrappers all over, a person didn't have anywhere to sit and then you did and it was time to go back. The trail cut straight through Ireland and there wasn't much to see. During the winter there weren't many to talk to and during the summers there were too many you ended up not talking to anyone because you had to collect the tickets. You saw the English, Americans, the Spanish, then you think there weren't any Italians. It was then you thought that Ireland was a stupid idea and you wanted to go to Italy. I eventually found myself back at Mrs. O'Malleys. I didn't understand why she allowed me in at all.
   I heard a soft rustling at my door and I thought someone called me by my name. I opened an eye and saw Mrs. O'Malley step inside with some laundry, hardly making any noise. It was morning, still dark, early. The door closed and I rolled away. It was hard to come by a good night’s sleep.

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