Empire. Everybody. Food, clothes, roofs over our heads. Because men like to fuck nice girls. You may go.
What a woman, all the same. He found the door. A leader, a genius and a floozy. He was close to swooning, falling over. Dolly Gandon, Alfie Oblong. And dozens of other mixtures, more than likely. And, maybe, his name in the mixing bowl. The open door brought some light.
—Mister Smart?
—Eh—
He turned to face her.
—Yeah. Yes?
There was more of her to see now. A shoulder he wanted to kiss, hair he wanted to drown in, or just touch. A wig - he didn’t care, no one knew for sure. It looked real enough, better than real. Teeth - Jesus, her teeth. He wanted to kneel at the bed and whimper. And offer himself. Give her his leg to beat him with.
—Yes? he said, hanging on to the door.
—You never fuck my girls.
—No.
—Why not?
—I’m married, he said.
She smiled. He saw teeth, and more teeth. False, like the hair? It didn’t matter. The lips were real and impossible, red, huge and open.
—How lovely, she said.—You are a breath of fresh air, Mister Smart. You may go. But also.
He waited.
—From now on I will pay you twelve shillings a week.
My father closed the door. A new man. Again, yet again. A slave this time. What a woman. He was floating. She had force to match God’s. She was God. She was her own invention - like him, but successful - her hair, teeth, her name, everything about her and around her. She’d created her own world and made it happen. She pulled strings from her bed - Henry almost fainted at the thought - and all of Dublin shook. People died, people lived while she sucked pepper-mints. She was the Queen of the city, and nobody knew. Except herself and, now, my father. My father was in love.
Side by side, they’d take on God and win. They’d rule the world. He’d never let a name destroy his life again. They’d invent and change names as it suited them - Dolly Gandon, Alfie Oblong, Dolly Smart. He’d be the puppet at the end of Dolly Oblong’s strings. Pinocchio Smart. He already had the wooden leg. He’d be a good boy for her and it would become flesh.
There was a man at the bottom of the steps. Henry stood aside, and the man came up and ducked past him.
—They’re inside waiting on you, said Henry.
He knew that Dolly Oblong had heard the door opening, would now hear it closing. She would hear another door inside opening, money being spent. She’d be pleased. She’d think of him. She was already thinking of him. There were more men, coming up the street. More money for Dolly Oblong. There was no anger left in my father, none at all, no bitterness, no past. He really was a new man.
I grew.
I grew and stretched and raged around the room, filled the place with my fists and feet. I got my knees off the floor and walked. I hit the walls and clawed them. I broke through the clothes that were put on me. I wailed and cursed, hard words that came through the open window to me. I only stopped to swallow snot and any food that got in my way. My mother grew fat on the air that I left her. I slept where I fell.
More newspapers were put on the mattress, carefully and slowly as Granny Nash read down through the columns and tut-tutted and sniggered. She tore off corners, left neat holes in the middle of pages and hid the pieces under her shawl. My mother’s groans came out of the clouds of steam. I charged right in and ripped the pages from the bed. I tried to knock over the buckets. I screamed and kicked as the tingling hands that had brought me into the world picked me up and dumped me gently on the landing outside.
—Stay out here for a while, little manny.
A rope was tied around my waist and to the stair-rail. I pulled and pulled and scraped at the hempen veins of the rope until my blood had drenched them. But it was too late. A new cry filled the room on the other side of the door. Alexander came first and, before I’d got used to that invasion, Susie joined
What a woman, all the same. He found the door. A leader, a genius and a floozy. He was close to swooning, falling over. Dolly Gandon, Alfie Oblong. And dozens of other mixtures, more than likely. And, maybe, his name in the mixing bowl. The open door brought some light.
—Mister Smart?
—Eh—
He turned to face her.
—Yeah. Yes?
There was more of her to see now. A shoulder he wanted to kiss, hair he wanted to drown in, or just touch. A wig - he didn’t care, no one knew for sure. It looked real enough, better than real. Teeth - Jesus, her teeth. He wanted to kneel at the bed and whimper. And offer himself. Give her his leg to beat him with.
—Yes? he said, hanging on to the door.
—You never fuck my girls.
—No.
—Why not?
—I’m married, he said.
She smiled. He saw teeth, and more teeth. False, like the hair? It didn’t matter. The lips were real and impossible, red, huge and open.
—How lovely, she said.—You are a breath of fresh air, Mister Smart. You may go. But also.
He waited.
—From now on I will pay you twelve shillings a week.
My father closed the door. A new man. Again, yet again. A slave this time. What a woman. He was floating. She had force to match God’s. She was God. She was her own invention - like him, but successful - her hair, teeth, her name, everything about her and around her. She’d created her own world and made it happen. She pulled strings from her bed - Henry almost fainted at the thought - and all of Dublin shook. People died, people lived while she sucked pepper-mints. She was the Queen of the city, and nobody knew. Except herself and, now, my father. My father was in love.
Side by side, they’d take on God and win. They’d rule the world. He’d never let a name destroy his life again. They’d invent and change names as it suited them - Dolly Gandon, Alfie Oblong, Dolly Smart. He’d be the puppet at the end of Dolly Oblong’s strings. Pinocchio Smart. He already had the wooden leg. He’d be a good boy for her and it would become flesh.
There was a man at the bottom of the steps. Henry stood aside, and the man came up and ducked past him.
—They’re inside waiting on you, said Henry.
He knew that Dolly Oblong had heard the door opening, would now hear it closing. She would hear another door inside opening, money being spent. She’d be pleased. She’d think of him. She was already thinking of him. There were more men, coming up the street. More money for Dolly Oblong. There was no anger left in my father, none at all, no bitterness, no past. He really was a new man.
I grew.
I grew and stretched and raged around the room, filled the place with my fists and feet. I got my knees off the floor and walked. I hit the walls and clawed them. I broke through the clothes that were put on me. I wailed and cursed, hard words that came through the open window to me. I only stopped to swallow snot and any food that got in my way. My mother grew fat on the air that I left her. I slept where I fell.
More newspapers were put on the mattress, carefully and slowly as Granny Nash read down through the columns and tut-tutted and sniggered. She tore off corners, left neat holes in the middle of pages and hid the pieces under her shawl. My mother’s groans came out of the clouds of steam. I charged right in and ripped the pages from the bed. I tried to knock over the buckets. I screamed and kicked as the tingling hands that had brought me into the world picked me up and dumped me gently on the landing outside.
—Stay out here for a while, little manny.
A rope was tied around my waist and to the stair-rail. I pulled and pulled and scraped at the hempen veins of the rope until my blood had drenched them. But it was too late. A new cry filled the room on the other side of the door. Alexander came first and, before I’d got used to that invasion, Susie joined
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