The Absurd Demise of Poulnabrone by Liam Howley

Author:Liam Howley [Howley, Liam]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: The demise of a fictional town.
ISBN: 978-0-9926008-2-2
Publisher: Jagged C Press
Published: 2014-05-05T04:00:00+00:00

17

Life changed as Tara went to college. Did she belong there? She had the interest. In fact, her professor was more than impressed by both her wealth of accumulated knowledge and her application. But she was divided, torn between the radical thoughts of youth and the earthen practicalities of everyday life: dendrology and taxonomy, Marxism and green politics, her grandmother’s incessant sniping, her mother’s disapproval of her studies, her work, her love. She didn’t dwell on it all, just somehow felt different from before, as though the steps she’d taken brought her less excitement and adventure than anxiety, and responsibility beyond her desires. He was cruel to her, Tony Mullen, left a gyre coiling about her spine, a crushing weight that stooped her shoulders, kept her hunched over her books, her eyes staked to the earth, her hands upon the spade as she turned the soil of Frank Dunne’s gardens so that she sweated unnecessarily and worked her emotions through her muscles rather than leave them burrow through the crevasses of her heart. Arguments seemed prevalent to her now. Everyone, everywhere, all striking discordant notes in conversations, challenges provoking blistering responses. Even Frank and Aine argued, two people she’d never known to disagree. She stayed low, working on the pots beneath the kitchen window, removing weevil grubs from about the roots, moving them about a tad too roughly so that an older pot, turned weak and green with use, cracked and parted on the concrete.

“It’s all his bloody fault,” she muttered. Her grumbling drew attention from the kitchen. “Damn him and his family,” she said as she scooped the earth into a fresh pot. She stood up and made her way to the end of the glass houses.

She’d only just been around at his home. His parents had been arguing. They were always arguing. He was forever arguing.

°

“Sure what would ye be doing business with those itinerants for?” Breda Mullen demanded of her husband. “They’d cut your throat and give you a plaster.” She peered up from the obituaries, which she’d scanned daily since she was a little girl. She was standing by the stove, leaning against a cupboard that tilted gently with her weight. Rough skin, greying hair, slack jaw, a distinct lack of care in her appearance.

Eamon sighed under the weight of her gaze. “Ah give it over, Breda. They’re people, they have to live.”

She ran her finger down the page and stopped. “Ahhh,” she sighed, “I forgot Mr Lenihan had passed. That’s sad.” Her expression changed with startling ease. “Well, they can go live somewhere else and not in my back garden.”

“I’m doing business with them, not inviting them to stop on our lawn.”

“You’re too naive. They’re wild, and they’d buy and sell ye,” she said, getting up from her seat to get ready for the funeral.

“Just let them try.” He looked anything but naive, just lazy and equally as unkempt as his wife. Tara felt a vague nausea looking at him.

“Well, you should pay heed,” she replied.

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