A Glass Darkly by Vince Vogel

Author:Vince Vogel [Vogel, Vince]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-08-30T04:00:00+00:00

7

Wolfe stood before Jack’s semi-detached urban nondescript rectangle. The curtains fluttered and a familiar face gazed out at him.

He sighed and walked to the door. It was already open when he reached it. Her hands came out at him and grasped him to her like a mother greeting a long lost son.

Tears in her eyes, Marsha guided Wolfe into the kitchen and he took a seat while she made them tea. That done, she took a seat on the other side and they didn’t speak for several minutes.

Until Wolfe said, “Does Jack know?”

“No,” Marsha replied immediately. “What reason would I tell him?”

“You sometimes sound like you’d like to destroy him.”

“I would,” she agreed. “But since the other day with you, I’ve stopped caring. Like some aching inside of me just went away and all I have left is numbness.”

“You loved him once though, didn’t you?”

“Of course I did. It’s why he could hurt me so bad for so long.”

Wolfe lowered his eyes to the faded linoleum.

Marsha spotted the tears.

“I’ve only ever been in love once,” he told her in a broken voice.

“Who was she?” Marsha asked.

“Her name was Mary.”

“Tell me about her.”

“It’s not a very nice story.”

“Still. I’d like to hear it.”

Londonderry, 1975

Wolfe kept his promise. He continued his visits to Mary and over the weeks and months she began to soften as they developed a bond. It was six months when they started leaving her sister’s place and taking long walks. A dangerous act for an IRA man like Wolfe. But one he was willing to take if only it would bring some life to this poor suffering woman.

They often visited her children’s graves.

Today as the sun sank into the city, they sat upon a bench under the wide arms of an oak, the little tombstones spread out on the other side of a pathway.

“I got a letter from Micheal’s adoptive parents through the agency,” she said.

“How is he?”

Mary O’Lyle began sobbing. It was her way now. Constantly sobbing for the awful course her life had taken. One she would have to traverse alone.

“It sounds like his life is nice,” she wept. “I imagine he’s part of some well-to-do family.”

Wolfe didn’t say anything. The guilt sealed his lips and tightened his guts.

Later, they walked in the failing twilight through the city back to her sister’s tower block. Coming into a busy street, they passed the other side of the road from a lively pub filled with bodies.

Mary stopped Wolfe.

“You know that’s where the British drink,” she told him, her glinting eyes fixed to the place.

“I do.”

“Let’s go in,” she said and it made his heart skip.

Before he knew what was happening, she was halfway across the street, walking straight for the entrance.

“Mary?” he called after her.

But if she heard, she was ignoring him.

Mary O’Lyle walked straight into the jaws of death and Wolfe watched in horror as he lost sight of her in the crowd.

With his heart in his mouth, he crossed the road.

Thankfully, Wolfe didn’t dress like your average Catholic.

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