“How come you’re not married yet? He asked. You’re not gay are you?”
“What do you mean… Am I gay, of course I’m not gay! It’s just that I never had any spare time to think about a wife and looking after the old woman hasn’t been exactly easy.”
“Ah! That’s just your excuse.”
“It’s been all hard work this past six years since she fell off the roof and chipped her spine and broke her hip, she had been house-bound. I had to do everything around the place, and that left me little time to go chasing after the ladies.”
“If you had looked after our mother properly you wouldn’t have had that problem. Why you let a seventy-five-year-old woman up on the roof on a day that was pouring down with rain I’ll never know. Surely you could have waited for a fine day to clean the god-damn chimney?”
“It’s alright for you to talk Bill… you don’t have to live here, but I do. She was the one who always insisted on going up on the roof. I was the fool that always got covered in soot. It’s no joke pulling a holly branch up and down the chimney flue, but you wouldn’t know about that would you …you never had to put up with such problems.”
The chimney had to be cleaned every year just before Christmas, it was a tradition in rural Ireland to clean the house from top to bottom in preparation for the Holy Season of Xmas and it had to be done when she wanted it done. Mother was headstrong and she always got her way. My brother Bill knew that too, but he was living far away in America and not involved, except to question my ability as a carer.
“Well she’s gone now. ‘The Lord Grant Her Peace’, so there is no reason why you can’t get yourself a wife. Don’t you want the Murphy name to continue in the old homestead?”
“Of course I do! But I think I’ve left it a bit late, it’s not easy for a fellow of my age to find a suitable partner. The young ladies round here don’t want a forty-six-year-old man as a bedmate when there are so many young fellas available. That’s part of the problem.”
“That’s just silly talk, there must be plenty fine ladies out there who would jump at the chance to move in here. You are just making excuses, you could find one if you put your mind to it!”
“This isn’t America, Bill.” I retorted “I’ve heard about the American girls who chase the men for their money, well I don’t have any money for them to chase and if I did, I wouldn’t be giving it to some gold digger. No way, I’m not that silly. Anyhow I’m much too busy to worry about women, I’ve got so much to do.”
“That’s just another excuse, Mick. I think you enjoy your own company too much, you like being alone, I reckon you are scared of the idea of marriage? Are you sure you’re not gay?”
“No I’m not bloody gay, I told I wasn’t. Just let it be, will you.”
I’ll be glad when he goes back to America, to that fat wife of his and her six spoiled brats. He walked into that one with his eyes shut… imagine marrying a widow with six children, just because she happened to be worth a few dollars and that was her late husband’s insurance payout. He wants me to be like him, My Unhappy Brother. He’s jealous of my freedom and my carefree lifestyle, I have everything I need here. I have my cows, my sheep, my dogs and nobody to nag me and I can make a few sales off the land any time the need for cash arises. So why spoil a good thing and what’s wrong with loving my animals and my land. If that’s being gay, well it’s a great life.
“No I’m not gay,” I shouted, “I’m just not interested at the moment, can we just leave it at that?”
But he wouldn’t leave it… he was insistent.
“You know what Mick, I think you might need help in finding a good wife, you’re not going to do it yourself, maybe I can get you introduced to someone. What do you say to that idea?”
What could I say, he’s so mad keen to see me hitched up, it might be fun to play along with him, but I mustn’t get too excited.
“What do you mean, you help me find someone, I told you before that I’m much too busy and I’m not really in the mood for love right now.”
“All the more reason you should have a good lady to look after you, and I think I know just the one for you, it’s my wife’s younger sister: Angelina. You remember her at our wedding, she was the one in the nuns’ habit.”
“A nun! You want me to marry a nun?” Bill must be losing his marbles I thought.
“She is not a nun any more; she left the convent two years ago after twenty-four years service. She has a good job now with prospects. She teaches junior school, she is single and like you not very interested in the opposite sex.”
“I’ll bet she’s not…and you ask me if I am gay.” But he wouldn’t be put off.
“Fly out with me next week, lock the place up and have a few weeks in the Big Apple, get to know Angelina. I’m sure you’ll like her.”
To get him off my back I finally agreed. I was lucky one of my near neighbour’s son John was home on holidays from Galway University where he was studying veterinary science and he was more than happy to earn a few quid and I knew my stock and property would be in good hands for the month I would be away.
I went with my brother Bill to New York to be introduced to Angelina, and what a cracker she turned out to be. Out of the drab grey nun’s habit she was stunning. She might have been forty years old, but she certainly had some form. I thought she was the most beautiful lady I had ever seen except in the movies and what a figure…wow.
I knew right away we would become real friendly and she was keen to learn all about my lifestyle and showed a genuine interest in me. “We seem to have a lot in common.” I thought. We felt completely at ease with each other as if we had been together for a long time not merely a few short hours. I knew then we would be more than friends. Angelina showed me through her spacious house from cellar to attic, leaving her bedroom until last. I looked for signs of convent life and was relieved to find there was none. She appeared to be a sensible down-to-earth person and I felt sure she would one day make a great farmers wife. I had visions of her milking the cows on a cold and frosty midwinter’s morning but I wondered if she would be prepared to give up the luxury of the good life in New York for the relative hardship of rural Ireland. But then…
Then came that wonderful magical first kiss…the long years of denial went into that first passionate embrace…twenty-four years of solitude she had endured behind the closed doors of the convent were forgotten, many lonely years of herding cattle and sheep erased from my memory as we explored new territory where neither of us had walked before, a world of pleasure, of rapture and delight. And then came the pain when Bill poked me hard in the ribs.
“Wake up Mick! We touchdown at Kennedy Airport in fifteen minutes.”
“Had a good sleep, did you?”