stopped
attending church when he was eighteen. By the age of twenty-six, he
was living in Florida, had had a string of girlfriends, many of
whom my parents knew about, and was ‘living in sin’ with his
current lover, Kate. None of this seemed to bother our mom.
Apparently, it was perfectly natural for a man to ‘sow some wild
oats’ and since none of his girlfriends had been ’good Catholic
girls’, that meant it was acceptable.
“He’s still young,” Mom told me. “He’ll come
around once he finds the right woman and starts to think about
marriage and children.”
The youngest of the family, Livia, was in
her junior year of college and wanted to go on to med school. She,
as far as I knew, still shared our parents’ beliefs and had even
talked about joining a medical mission. She was, therefore, the
‘golden girl’.
“All I ask,” Mom sighed, “is that you come.
Just listen to what Father Perry has to say.”
“I’ll think about it,” I grumbled, picking
my laptop off the table and retreating to the privacy of my old
bedroom.
I couldn’t bring myself to attend church
with my folks, which led to more lectures; some from my mom, some
from my dad, and some in which they tag-teamed me. My dad was not
only concerned for my immortal soul; he was worried about the here
and now.
“You need to think about marriage,” he
urged. “Who’s going to take care of you if you haven’t got a
husband?”
“I’ve managed okay so far,” I bit back.
“Well…” he shrugged, one eyebrow
arching.
“This is a blip,” I told him sharply. “I
will get a job and get out of your hair.”
“It’s not about getting out of our hair,” he
argued. “I just want you to have a man you can depend on, so you
won’t experience any more of these ‘blips’. Besides,” he added
smiling, “don’t you want to have children?”
“I don’t know Dad,” I huffed. “Maybe one
day.”
“You’re not getting any younger.”
“I’m not even thirty yet, Dad!”
These debates with my parents would go
around and around in circles, neither of them ever seeming to
understand my point of view.
Chapter Two
Once being back home for more than a month,
and after ten unsuccessful interviews, I had moved beyond
desperate. I would have been willing to do anything, even clean
toilets. I had to get out from the suffocating atmosphere of my
parents’ home.
So, with an attitude of ‘why the heck not?’
I applied for a post I found online. I wasn’t qualified, I had no
experience, but it was a job and it was one that would get me out
of my folks’ house (even if just for stints at a time)
immediately.
“You have an impressive résumé, Ms.
Cannagh,” said the man sitting on the other side of the desk. I’d
only had to wait a week for the interview, and I was determined to
make a good impression.
“In fact,” he added, with a tilt of his
head. “You’re rather overqualified for the job.”
That morning, I’d applied a little more
make-up than usual, ensuring that I looked as beautiful as ever. My
long blonde hair was clipped up at the back, with bangs swept
sideways across my forehead. “I’ve been out of work for several
months now,” I admitted, “and I really am desperate to get a job,
no matter what it might be.”
“Hmm,” he nodded understandingly. “It’s
just, I wonder if you’ll be bored. Being part of a flight crew can
be tedious,” he chuckled. “But being the flight crew on a private
jet is truly mind-numbing at times.”
“I’m sure I won’t be bored,” I insisted,
smiling warmly.
“Well, you’re clearly an intelligent woman,”
he replied. “Serving drinks and fetching blankets or pillows is
hardly the kind of work I think you would find stimulating.”
Dropping all pretense, the smile quickly
slipped from my face. I glanced down at the pale fingers that were
entwined in my lap and shook my head. “Please, Mr. Joice,” I
pleaded, lifting my face back to his and fixing my eyes
attending church when he was eighteen. By the age of twenty-six, he
was living in Florida, had had a string of girlfriends, many of
whom my parents knew about, and was ‘living in sin’ with his
current lover, Kate. None of this seemed to bother our mom.
Apparently, it was perfectly natural for a man to ‘sow some wild
oats’ and since none of his girlfriends had been ’good Catholic
girls’, that meant it was acceptable.
“He’s still young,” Mom told me. “He’ll come
around once he finds the right woman and starts to think about
marriage and children.”
The youngest of the family, Livia, was in
her junior year of college and wanted to go on to med school. She,
as far as I knew, still shared our parents’ beliefs and had even
talked about joining a medical mission. She was, therefore, the
‘golden girl’.
“All I ask,” Mom sighed, “is that you come.
Just listen to what Father Perry has to say.”
“I’ll think about it,” I grumbled, picking
my laptop off the table and retreating to the privacy of my old
bedroom.
I couldn’t bring myself to attend church
with my folks, which led to more lectures; some from my mom, some
from my dad, and some in which they tag-teamed me. My dad was not
only concerned for my immortal soul; he was worried about the here
and now.
“You need to think about marriage,” he
urged. “Who’s going to take care of you if you haven’t got a
husband?”
“I’ve managed okay so far,” I bit back.
“Well…” he shrugged, one eyebrow
arching.
“This is a blip,” I told him sharply. “I
will get a job and get out of your hair.”
“It’s not about getting out of our hair,” he
argued. “I just want you to have a man you can depend on, so you
won’t experience any more of these ‘blips’. Besides,” he added
smiling, “don’t you want to have children?”
“I don’t know Dad,” I huffed. “Maybe one
day.”
“You’re not getting any younger.”
“I’m not even thirty yet, Dad!”
These debates with my parents would go
around and around in circles, neither of them ever seeming to
understand my point of view.
Chapter Two
Once being back home for more than a month,
and after ten unsuccessful interviews, I had moved beyond
desperate. I would have been willing to do anything, even clean
toilets. I had to get out from the suffocating atmosphere of my
parents’ home.
So, with an attitude of ‘why the heck not?’
I applied for a post I found online. I wasn’t qualified, I had no
experience, but it was a job and it was one that would get me out
of my folks’ house (even if just for stints at a time)
immediately.
“You have an impressive résumé, Ms.
Cannagh,” said the man sitting on the other side of the desk. I’d
only had to wait a week for the interview, and I was determined to
make a good impression.
“In fact,” he added, with a tilt of his
head. “You’re rather overqualified for the job.”
That morning, I’d applied a little more
make-up than usual, ensuring that I looked as beautiful as ever. My
long blonde hair was clipped up at the back, with bangs swept
sideways across my forehead. “I’ve been out of work for several
months now,” I admitted, “and I really am desperate to get a job,
no matter what it might be.”
“Hmm,” he nodded understandingly. “It’s
just, I wonder if you’ll be bored. Being part of a flight crew can
be tedious,” he chuckled. “But being the flight crew on a private
jet is truly mind-numbing at times.”
“I’m sure I won’t be bored,” I insisted,
smiling warmly.
“Well, you’re clearly an intelligent woman,”
he replied. “Serving drinks and fetching blankets or pillows is
hardly the kind of work I think you would find stimulating.”
Dropping all pretense, the smile quickly
slipped from my face. I glanced down at the pale fingers that were
entwined in my lap and shook my head. “Please, Mr. Joice,” I
pleaded, lifting my face back to his and fixing my eyes
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