False hope.

I think often of Eugene and Oliver and wonder what they’re doing; I hope they’re playing together on a warm sunny afternoon in a beautiful garden filled with roses, tulips and Penelope’s. I know how much the twins loved to play in the flowers and pick them for mother. I wish they would have been able to see the new house; it’s a lot better than the last. The wood boards creek under our weight, the paint on the walls were chipping and it’s a lot of a smaller space than our other apartment but it feels cozy and warm. I’ve never been somewhere long enough to call it home except Brooklyn of course but this place feels, familiar. Ma is sad and always says she hears Oliver and Eugene, maybe she has become one of those spirit seeing people, the ones that can read into the future? Maybe she could rent a tent a tell people there fortune like the pretty ladies as the summer fairs in Brooklyn. Sometimes I really think she does see them, shell be folding our laundry after using the neighbours water supply and all of sudden shell look up with a hope in her eye and a smile on her lips, shell turn around quickly as if someone was entering the room but as soon as the look came it left her face turning the corners of her lips down in a vertical direction sometimes I think they even tremble but she quickly comes to the realization that Oliver and Eugene aren’t back, she then sighs and continues folding her laundry or washing the dishes. The shillings aren’t helping the situation either; our dole money has descended because of the death of the twins leaving us with only sixteen shillings a week. It’s hardly enough to buy stale bread and a few pieces of coal, but well survive, I know we will. Father leaves during the day wearing his crisp stainless shirt and his freshly ironed faded black tie. He takes long strolls to the farms asking them if they need any help and he works himself to the bone until there’s not only sweat on his brow but on his whole core. He works until the look of desperation fills his eyes and his arms start to quiver with each item he lifts. Mother says you’d think he would come home exhausted after working himself so hard but he doesn’t, he takes the money that the fathers give him for milking there cows and cutting their crops and he goes to the pub and drinks his sorrows away. He drinks until he can’t remember his name, he drinks until his life is good but the next morning when he wakes up wearing his dirty and stained white shirt and ripped tie he’s back where he started. Work less, penny less and three family members short because he can’t support them. I hope that one day hell bring the money he makes on the farms back so we can have a full meal, like on Christmas day. Christmas was coming and I was excited as I walked home from school with Malachy we arrived at our building to see water flooding from the steps, I rushed and swung open the door to see a wave of water rushing towards me. Malachy and I ducked to side and waited for the wave to pass leaving nothing but a few feet of water left, we looked around trying to find Ma when we saw her talking to the neighbour outside with some of our belongings. When she saw us she looked sad, as if she had disappointed us. She told us she was sorry and I hugged her, she was cold. She told us later on that we would be moving into the upstairs apartment, Malachy and I were excited we couldn’t wait to see what the upstairs looked like, maybe it was warmer than downstairs and it must have a better view! When we arrived upstairs lugging our few belongings up the stairs it was just what Id expected. We had a top view from our windows and we could practically see all of Dublin, Malachy and I decided to call it Italy because it was warm and dry just like the place we learnt about in school. Maybe this Christmas was going to be a good one after all.