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By Root 665 0

we didn’t think too much about being happy. Survivin’ is all was on most people’s minds. If there was food on the table and a roof over your head, that was reason enough to be happy. But yes, I suppose he was happy. He was good company for me anyways. He stayed on through the fall and winter and well into the spring of the following year. He had hauled kelp from the beach and had a stack piled five feet high to the back of the house ready for the garden. For sure I thought he was here to stay. To begin with I didn’t notice how things had changed about the house, until one evening around supper time, Matt was off on his own walkin’ the cliffs and I was fixin’ a bit of supper over by the kitchen table. I was hot and tired and I’d had enough for one day.”

“Buddy,” the old man had suddenly begun to shout across the kitchen. “Buddy, now what’s the story with him?” His words were a bit slurred but the meaning was clear. “Is he plannin’ to stick around here for good or is he goin’ on back to New York or Boston or wherever it is he’s come from?”

“Buddy? And who might I ask is Buddy?”

“You knows damn well who I mean. Now what’s the story?”

Sometimes, it made her heart turn right over when she’d look across and see the thin, frail, old man sitting passively in the chair by the range. His hair wanted combing, and he could do with a shave and, God in heaven, his nose was runnin’ down in his mouth again! Why couldn’t he at least do that for himself? In two steps she was by his chair, and with the corner of her apron pinched hard on the end of his nose. “Are you talkin’ about Matt, Father? Because if you are, he’s got work enough here. In case you haven’t noticed, we’ve had vegetables, best kind all winter and if that’s not enough, I’ll have you know that if he didn’t bide here with you all afternoon then I couldn’t be down to the flakes, now, could I?”

His left hand lay lifeless on the arm of the chair. It should have been big and square with strong hard fingers. But the flesh was soft and flaccid, the skin pale and mottled. Only the hard yellow fingernails reflected the power that had once been in those hands.

“It isn’t right, and you knows it. People is talkin’, sayin’ how Peg Barry’s gone and found herself another no good wanderer who’s never done a day’s work in his life. I warned you before you got hitched up with that Johnny fella, how he was good for nothin’ but enjoyin’ hisself. Well, I’m not goin’ supportin’ another one the like of that in my house.”

“Supportin’? You haven’t done no supportin’ around here lately, not to my knowledge. It’s Matt an’ me is doin’ the supportin’ these days, Father. We been managin’ the best we can. And don’t go tormentin’ me no more about Johnny. We’ve been through all that before. Johnny’s dead and gone, Father. He won’t be back no more, so leave him be.”

Milky white liquid seeped from the raw potato flesh and dripped steadily into the water.

“Well, girl, Johnny may not be back no more but be the looks of things he’s sent you a fine replacement. If you don’t watch out, Peggy Barry, you’ll be left again, out on the bawn!”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“He’s not our kind and you knows it. He’s got plenty of oul’ yap out of him and has the grand manners but he has no thought for you, Peg, and it’s time you got clear of him. God damn it, he’s just a no good oul’… angishore! Get clear of him, girl, before tis too late.”

“Get clear of him? Father, if I didn’t have that oul’ angishore around here, I couldn’t manage.”

“Are ye blind, Peg girl? There’s others only too happy to step up and be glad to marry you. There’s Paddy Murray, used to come by regular before Buddy arrived. He’s a good man to work.”

The knife came down hard on the table, making the potatoes jump in the pan!

“Father, will you stop callin’ him Buddy, talkin’ about him like he’s nothin’. His name is Matt Molloy, an’ as for that Murray fella, I wouldn’t have that oul’ maumeen, supposin’ he was the last man on the island or up and down the shore for that matter.”

“You’re not gettin’ younger, girl.” His good hand began