I was in the kitchen when Ryan arrived, a couple of battered 
carryalls over his shoulder.  He was steering each child by the 
top of the skull.

Deb:  Hey, Gaerity, you sly dog!  What’s this?

I was grinning.  Young children, impressionable heads to mess 
with!  How fun!

Ryan:  What?

He looked as though he had just emerged from a cave.

Deb:  I said, what’s this?  You have a child stashed someplace 
who’s not like that other little freak?  They make a grandpa out 
of you?

Ryan’s eyes bugged and he started to look cornered.  The 
children had caught sight of me and did what young children 
always do:  they hid, arms wrapped tightly around Ryan’s knees, 
peeking around his legs as though he were a sturdy tree.  I saw 
the panic and the shyness and I backpedaled.

Ryan:  Where’s Jade?

Deb:  Upstairs.  Ryan…

Ryan:  She’ll know what t’do.  She’ll help me with these two.

I thought of Jade, who laughed everytime I got into a sparring 
match with one of the boys because it wasn’t her problem and it 
would never happen to her.

Jade:  What will I know, Ryan?

Jade was standing in the door, covered in chalkdust and looking 
pleased with herself.  She had been drawing again—Ryan in charcoal.  

Jade:  Whose kids are those?

Ryan:  Och, Jade, there ye are…

His relief was instant and visible and it only made Jade more 
confused.

Jade:  What’s wrong with you, boyo?  Where did you find those 
kids?

Ryan:  Lass… d’ye remember me brother, Rob… an’ the babies… 
Mick and Nuala…

Jade:  Oh, no way.

Jade was quick on the draw, anyway.

Nuala:  Auntie Jade?  She doesn’t like us?

Ryan:  Hush, Nuala… she’s a bit… surprised, is all, wee one.

Jade swallowed something intense.  Now there were two adults 
looking trapped by these two Irish mites.  

We stood, the tableau ridiculous but lending some humor 
to the afternoon.  The front door slammed.

Mick:  Is that Mr. Bill, Uncle Ryan?

Deb:  Oooooh, nooooo…

I blew past Jade like a cool breeze.  If it was Bill, the 
intercept was vital.  If not… not.

Bill:  What in hell crawled up your ass, woman?  Gaerity back?

I nodded, glancing back at the kitchen door.  Bill had never 
particularly wanted children around him though he tolerated 
mine with good grace.  How would he react to two outsized babies?  
Probably not well.

Deb:  He brought company with him.

Bill:  What’re we runnin’ here, a fuckin’ home for the displaced?  
Get ‘em a goddamn hotel.

Deb:  I can’t, Bill.  It’s his niece and nephew, Mick and Nuala.

Bill:  And?

Deb:  And what?

Bill:  Finish it.

He knew there was more.  There was always more with me.

Deb:  They’re four, Bill.  They’re twins and they’re four.

Bill:  What in the goddamn hell do we need with a couplea 
carpet biters… Bad enough I haveta put up with that one 
little freak of yours… Calls me fat one more time and I’m 
gonna show him fat…

Deb:  You like my little freak.  You can mess with him.

Bill:  Ain’t the point.  He leaves.

Deb:  True enough.  But these two… well, their father wants 
them out of Northern Ireland for a while and he had to con 
Ryan the way it was and Jade looks like someone wants her spleen…

Bill:  And you’re lovin it.

I leveled a stare at him.

Deb:  Not really.  They’ll require care and minding… but I 
can’t put them out, now they’re here.  If nothing else, I know 
the program.  Between myself and Jade, hopefully, we’ll keep 
them out of your hair.

Bill:  Why do you keep takin’ this shit on?

Deb:  What else can I do?  Ryan is my friend, those are 
children… hell, the rest of the world lands here eventually, 
didn’t you and Elmore wind up putting Tom to bed in the bathtub 
because he was so drunk he wouldn’t go to his hotel? 

Bill:  You know the answer to that, girl.

Deb:  Yeah, I do… I’d’ve dragged the big goof, but not you two, 
oh no.  So I get in there the next morning and start getting 
ready to shower and this voice says, ‘don’t usually see a full
moon in the mornin’, darlin’, but thanks so much for sharin,’ and 
I damn near had a heart attack.  Don’t be giving me any shit… no 
such thing as no room at the Inn around here.  Get downstairs 
that day… Hiatt has his head in the sink running water on his 
tongue, feeding Hewey raisins…

I wandered back to the kitchen, grumbling.  Bill followed me.

The children attempted to further their retreat when they caught 
sight of Bill.  Ryan fidgeted, since the children appeared to be 
trying to crawl up his pantlegs.

Bill:  Christ all-eff…

Jade and Deb:  Bill!

We cut loose with a yell, stopping him before he could do more 
than sound the first letter.  Bill’s face darkened as he ripped a 
beer out of the fridge.

Bill:  Take those two outside, show ‘em the llamas or somethin’.  
I wanna talk t’you, boy.

Jade:  He’s gonna bitch at him.

Deb:  Doubtless.  Come on, kids… you ever been to McDonalds?

As I endured four-year-old excitement and fended off children, 
feeling myself edging towards grandmother mode, Jade continued 
to mutter fiercely.

Jade:  It’s nothing compared to what he’ll get later, though…

Jade was completely unaccustomed to buying for children.  
I was out of practice and had never bought for  a girl closer 
to me than my niece.  We made a confident pair, then, sallying 
forth with Mick and Nuala to the local temple of consumerism. 

Bill was my first stop.  He didn’t like me taking plastic 
to Target.  Where other people made purchases, he claimed I 
made assaults on different departments with every intention of 
cleaning them out.

He and Ryan were sitting across from one another, faces set, 
drinking beer the way some people fought with knives.

Deb:  Bill, I’m going to Target.

Normally, he would ask me how much and then give me twice 
what I had asked for.  This time was different.  The clawed his 
wallet free and flipped it at me.

Bill:  Get goin’, girl.

I knew he rarely kept less than two grand in that scarred 
leather trifold.  This was going to be interesting.

It felt like warp speed when we blew into Target.  We had three 
hours and I suspected we’d need most of it.  Mick and Nuala had 
coated themselves with McFlurry, so we washed them up before 
dumping them in carts and heading off to do battle. 

We started in the shoe department and worked toward the back of 
the store.  And it never seemed as though I’d thought of everything.  
Sneakers led to dress shoes, for some reason, which lead to sandals.  
We plowed through jeans, shorts, t-shirts—got badly sidetracked 
among girly short-sets and playsuits, which annoyed Mick to no end.  
We did socks and underwear, pajamas and bathrobes, and finished 
with light jackets.

Deb:  Bedding.

Jade:  What beds?

Deb:  Shit fire and save matches.  There’s a field trip for 
tomorrow.  Well… bedding.

Star Wars for Mick—he and Jade bonded instantly over Qui-Gon 
Jinn.  Nuala preferred Mickey and Minnie Mouse.

Deb:  Toys.

This was going to be the wild part.  Target was not Toys R Us, 
but it would more than satisfy a couple of Irish children who 
had never had a lot to begin with.

Jade:  What did you play with at home, Mick?

Mick:  Sticks.

Nuala:  We had a ball.

Jade:  Oh, Christ.

Deb:  Get another cart… Hang on, I’ll go.

The first thing Nuala saw was a plush white bear.  When I 
tried to convince her to look at his cut pile brown brother, 
she put on a face I was to become intimately familiar with the 
Angry Little Irish Girl.  The white one was what she wanted.  
Nothing else was acceptable.  Meantime, Mick had found Sebastian 
the Crab from the Little Mermaid and he was busy clouting Nuala 
upside the head with the claws.

Mick set his jaw until he got a Darth Maul light-saber, while 
Nuala chose a Jar Jar Binks figure.  We did games and trucks 
and dolls.  We found them little twelve inch bicycles, crayons 
and coloring books, storybooks, radios… and a Sony PlayStation 
as well as a number of games.  I knew I was going overboard, but 
I couldn’t seem to stop myself.

Deb:  Should we get them a television?

Jade:  We’ll put the PlayStation on Ryan’s and my television.

Deb:  Will the children get to play on it?

Jade:  If they move fast enough.

Deb:  That was what I figured.  Come on… stop me before I 
spend more.

It topped at over a thousand dollars.

The little Target cashier wonk was already shell-shocked.  
She kept scanning and bagging, scanning and bagging.  There 
was a tense moment when we tried to get Nuala’s bear away 
from her to scan it, but the Angry Little Irish Girl prevailed 
and the wonk pulled out her scanner gun.  Other cashiers were 
wandering by, supposedly at work but actually trying to get a 
look at the order from Hell.  Jade ran a cartload out to the 
Expedition when she got back the wonk was just finishing up the 
clothes and getting ready for the final push.  Mick sat contentedly 
chewing on a Butterfinger bar he had helped himself to.  When Nuala 
saw this she demanded equal treatment and by that time I was 
numb myself.  The cashier scanned the candybar and punched the 
total button.

Jade:  Jesus Christ!

A manager was standing by, ready to approve the charge slip.  
Instead, I pulled out Bill’s wallet and started throwing fifties 
and hundreds at the girl.  When I finally finished and got control 
of the twitching in my arm, Bill’s wallet was visibly thinner 
and the manager was howling for a cash drop into her walkie talkie.

Jade:  Geez, Deb… I’m sorry.  I had no idea it would cost so much.

Deb:  Don’t worry about it.  It’s done for a while.

Jade:  We could have gone to Goodwill.

Deb:  Sure, we could have.  But don’t these two deserve something 
nice?  At least to start?  We can save money later.

Jade:  What will Bill say?

Deb:  Lotta ‘what’n hell, did’ja think I’m madea money, woman?’ 
and not much more.  I’m not sure where the money comes from 
and I know I don’t want to know, but he’s not hurting and he 
usually doesn’t grudge me.

Jade:  He’s a good guy, really.

Deb:  He got handed a lot of shit he never though much about 
when I barged into his life.  He’s been magnificent.  But don’t 
tell him I said that.  He’ll get cocky.

Jade:  *Get* cocky?

Deb:  Cockier, then.

TO BE CONTINUED...

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