Chapter 15
Charlie didn't act surprised. He was hardly paying any attention to the boy
who wore old blue overalls but no shirt or shoes.
"Who's that?" the boy asked, pointing at me.
"My cousin Michael," Charlie said.
"He sure dresses funny," the boy said.
"Yeah, he does."
Then the boy turned and disappeared into the bushes.
"Charlie," I asked, "who was...?"
"And I never told you if I went sailing the high seas?" he interrupted
me.
"What?"
"You said you never asked but I never told you if I sailed around the
world?"
I shrugged. "Not that I remember." I paused. "But I don't always
listen to family stories," I said. "Sometimes they seem, well,
boring."
"Boring!"
"Well, yeah, I mean it all happened a long time ago and so it's not as
interesting as what's happening now."
I could tell he was thinking about that. I could hear some kids whooping and
hollering in the distance. I could hear some big splashes, too.
"In Ireland," he said, "the farms were small. Only four or five
acres. Rocky soil. Rock walls. The hills are a soft, soft green and it's cool
and wet. Not as heavy as rain but not as fine as a mist either. The cottages are
stone and the roofs are made of thatch."
"Made of what?" I asked.
"It's like straw."
"Oh," I said. He had this dreamy look in his eyes, as if he were
seeing what he was describing.
"It's dark in the cottages. And cold, too. Smoky. A little peat fire
burning in the hearth."
"A what fire?"
"Peat. It's... well, they dig it up and burn it. It's like old grass but it
burns more like coal. And the people didn't used to speak English. They spoke
Irish. Gaelic."
"How do you know all this?" I asked.
"I... Grandpa used to live with us. He spoke English and Irish. He taught
me a little." He gave me a smile. "Just enough to get by. He would be
what...? He would be your great-great-great-grandfather."
"Wow," I said. "Is he still around?"
"He died when I was 8. Buried in the cemetery next to St. Joseph's Church
in Culver City. Say, have you been there?"
"Culver City?" I asked.
"The cemetery there. Have you seen Grandpa Farrell's grave?"
"I guess," I said. "I don't really pay much attention when we go
to cemeteries and the old relatives start pointing out where even older
relatives are buried."
"He was old," Charlie said. "He was 56. Ma's says that's a good,
long life."
"Fifty-six!" I said. "That's not old. My Grandpa Farrell is 75
and he gets along just fine."
"Seventy-five! And he's not sick or anything?"
"No," I said, "he and Grandma flew to Europe last
Christmas."
"They did what!"
This was all getting very confusing. I wondered if Charlie even realized we were
talking about his son. A boy who would be born 13 years from now.
"Never mind," I said.
"You mean their steamship went so fast they call it flying? Or they took a
hot-air balloon?"
"No," I said. When were airplanes invented anyway? "Have you ever
heard of Orville and Wilbur Wright?" I asked and then added, "Never
mind." I decided I better change the subject. "What did your Grandpa
Farrell die of?" I asked. "Was there an accident?"
"Consumption," Charlie said and he looked upset.
"What's that?"
"You know. TB."
"TV?" I asked.
"TB. Tuberculosis."
"Oh," I said. "Is that something dangerous?" He didn't say
anything. I thought maybe he hadn't heard me and then he answered so quietly.
"It's deadly," he said, his voice a monotone. "Four years ago it
took Grandpa and last year..." He quickly looked down at his feet but not
before I saw there were tears in his eyes.
"I'm sorry," I said, "I didn't mean to... I mean, when my Grandma
Fitzgerald died two years ago -- that's my mom's mom -- I cried and cried. She
got cancer and she died really fast."
"Last year," Charlie said, not looking up, "on August 14th, my
brother William died. A week before his birthday. He had consumption. He was 14
months younger than me but now... now I'm getting older and he'll always be
9."
His tear drops were falling into the dirt. In the distance, kids were still
screaming and splashing. I wished I could hug him but 12-year-old boys don't hug
each other no matter how much one of them is hurting.
Go to Chapter 16.
