City of Hope by Kate Kerrigan

Author:Kate Kerrigan
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780062237293
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2013-05-13T16:00:00+00:00

I told Bridie I was entertaining the men exclusively the following night (she was “scandalized!”) and gave her money to keep everyone out of the house until at least nine o’clock. The women and children could have a meal in the small family diner down the road, and retire back to the Balduccis’ house if they finished early, where I would have cakes, sweets and cigarettes ready for them to enjoy. I would get Jake to gather up all the children when they came in from school and deliver them down to her. She was to tell none of the women that there was any sign of discontent among their men. I did not want any of them feeling that the tenuous hold on the security of their families’ lives was being threatened. This was in the manner of a “thank-you” from me alone, and their own evening out was to be presented as a sort of “treat” or party.

I was not in the mood for cooking anything fancy. As I began to prepare the food itself I realized that, in actual fact, I was not in the mood for cooking at all. I felt, if the truth be told, discontented, and yet I was not entirely sure why. As I took my largest saucepan out from the cupboard, my mind flashed over the early days of my marriage, when John was a captain in the Irish Republican Army. My duty, as his loyal wife, was to cook and care for his men, harboring them all in our small cottage as renegade fighters; cleaning their wounds; comforting them. When John came home half dead with his leg hanging off, I nursed him, then came to America to earn the money for his operation. Who was there to comfort me? In later years I fed his friends, and all but reared his farm boys. Men—for all their bravado and physical strength—could be weak and stupid creatures without a woman to care for them. It seemed to me, as I pulled the pan of water over from the sink to the stove, that I had been looking after men all my life, and here I was again, keeping the men happy. Making sure they were fed and watered, and made to feel important. Who was going to do the same for me?

I did not care to answer the question because in my heart I knew that any number of my new friends would gladly have me sit back and be cared for. The truth was, I was never the kind who liked to be looked after; not even by my husband. I was happiest when I was taking charge. I would allow Maidy to cook and care for me, but never to offer me her comfort. I was too proud to take comfort from any person, be they man, mother or friend—I kept my own counsel.

I was looking after other people because I was unable to allow anyone else to look after me, but grief has no time for such logic.

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