Awakenings - SF1 (23 page)

"Pay attention, Shi' vawn," he said with a grin identical to the one Jamie had seen hundreds of times on her friend. "This one's got manners." He turned to Jamie and looked a bit pensive as he finally said, "I suppose I prefer Martin. It's the name my parents gave me and I can't think of a reason to change it." This last was directed at a bemused looking Ryan. "Another lesson you could take from this one is how to dress for dinner," he said as he regarded Jamie's outfit. She wore a forest green cashmere crew neck sweater and a pair of wide wale corduroy slacks in a soft buttery cream color. Shiny brown faux alligator loafers completed the outfit.

"I'll try, Da," Ryan agreed. "But I don't think even Jamie could do much for my sense of style." She cocked her head in concentration. "I think Conor's out of the shower. Wanna come to my room to give me some pointers, Jamie?"

"Sure, Ryan," she replied a little hesitantly. Even though she was very interested in seeing what was under those jeans, she knew it was not the wisest course of action. But she put her cautions to the side and followed right on Ryan's heels. They walked back to the small entryway and opened a door that Jamie had not noticed. As they descended a low staircase Ryan was forced to duck her head severely. It seemed to Jamie that they were in a room that would be located right behind the garages. The room was surprisingly bright as it was above ground even though she supposed it was technically in the basement. A large casement double hung window loomed over the bed and faced the small neat backyard. Jamie could see a large black dog looking through the window with a quizzical look on its face.

"Hi Duffy," Ryan said as she sat on her large bed and opened the window. "Duff, this is Jamie," she said as she pointed at her amused friend. "She's my very good friend, and I want you to greet her gently." The dog cocked his big black head and gave her a stern expression that seemed to imply agreement. "We'll be out soon, so you go practice," she said as she closed the window and the dog trotted away.

"He's awfully cute, Ryan," Jamie said. "What kind of dog is he?"

"He's half black lab and half standard poodle. I got him from a client 3 years ago. Best tip I ever got," she said proudly.

Ryan rose from the bed and crossed the room to a well built set of drawers and doors that lined the entire side wall of her room. She began to open the doors and look at her wardrobe. Jamie walked up next to her and marveled at the way everything was organized. Each drawer was labeled neatly. Tshirts L/S; Tshirts S/S; Tshirts N/S; Sweats; Socks; U/W
etc.

"Got enough Tshirts?" Jamie asked casually as she opened the N/S drawer to confirm that indeed the shirts stored inside did not in fact have sleeves.

"Hey, I'm a dyke," she said defensively. "Tshirts are part of the uniform."

"Do you need help Shi' vawn?" Jamie asked innocently as her friend seemed at a loss.

"Don't start," she warned with a smile.

"God, Ryan, I think I know you so well, but I don't even know your real name."

"I haven't used that name since I was seven," Ryan replied. "Only Da and my grandparents use it, the boys even stopped when I beat them up," she admitted. "And you do know me, Jamie," she said sincerely. "You know me very well. I wouldn't have invited you here otherwise."

Jamie remembered that Ryan's mother had died when she was seven. Thinking there might be a connection she chose not to pursue the matter. "I'm sure I know all the important parts," she admitted. "Besides, a touch of mystery becomes you."

Ryan laughed and resumed her task. "My big problem is that I don't have any nice pants," she moaned. "Every time I decide to buy something nice I find some new bike pants or a new warm up suit that I know I'll wear ten times more often and I buy that instead."

She pulled out a perfectly acceptable pair of navy blue wool slacks and a cream colored cable knit sweater. She laid her selections out on the bed and sat down to unlace her boots. Jamie chickened out as she considered watching her undress, so she knew she had better get out now. "I think I'll offer to help your father while you get ready," she offered.

"He won't let you help, but he'd appreciate the offer," Ryan predicted.

As she turned to leave she remembered something that had puzzled her. "Why do you call him 'Da'?"

"It's the Irish equivalent of Dad. Many kids call their parents Ma and Da rather than Mom and Dad."

"It's kind of cute," Jamie offered as she began to walk up the stairs.

As Ryan predicted, Jamie's offer to help was rebuffed by Martin. "You go play with the children," he said as he directed her to the now open door off the living room. The relatively big bedroom facing the street was filled by a king sized bed, a well worn upholstered chair and 3 men lounging in various positions as they watched the 49'ers battle the St. Louis Rams from a TV set located in another lovely built-in cabinet lining the wall.

Jamie sat on the floor after refusing the offer of the chair. She quickly joined in the discussion of the 9ers lack of a good tight end. "Tom Rathman and Brent Jones made them click," she added knowledgeably. Ryan joined them, freshly scrubbed and shockingly beautiful in her dress up clothes, as half time was just beginning. She sat next to Jamie on the floor and watched a little challenge that Conor had obviously just made with Jamie. They were each putting $5 up and Rory was acting as judge. Jamie scrunched her face up, deep in thought. "Well, there has to be an 'S', she said, "and an 'H'?" she asked hopefully.

"Two for two!" said Rory.

"How about an 'A'?"

"Three for three!"

"A 'W'?"

"Nope, one wrong," he replied.

"S-I-O-B-H-A-N," Ryan enunciated as she handed each contestant back their $5.

"No fair, Ryan," said Conor, a little perturbed.

"I don't like people to play games with the spelling of my name," she said seriously. "It bothers me," she said softly as she looked at the floor.

"I'm sorry, Ryan," Conor said quickly as he rose from the bed and squatted down to give her a little kiss. "I wouldn't have done it if I knew it would bother you."

"Well," she admitted, "It doesn't bother me much, but it did get you off the bed and into my evil hands," she laughed gleefully as she began to tickle his sides unmercifully. He quickly lost his ability to remain upright but she stuck right with him, as he rolled around on the floor.

"Please, please, no more, I can't take it," he pleaded as he giggled hysterically. "You win, you win!"

"I always win," she said proudly as she helped him straighten up. "I'm the little sister."

"Just our luck boys," he addressed his laughing brothers. "To have a little sister that can kick all of our butts."

The game began again just as Martin called them all to dinner. Brendan rose and hit the record button on the VCR, and they all walked into the dining room without a word of complaint.

Jamie could not remember ever having a better time at the dinner table. Meals at her home were always pleasant enough, but there was never much spark. When she and her mother ate alone, they often went out to dinner and the conversation revolved around her mother's interests; clothes, travel, art and her many social obligations. When her father was at home for a meal they usually talked about his work or his latest case or politics.

The O'Flaherty clan however, spent their mealtimes in a boisterous game of one-upmanship: funny stories, jokes and constant teasing. Jamie was pleased that they seemed to welcome her into the group seamlessly. They teased her unmercifully but gently, but she noticed that they did the same to each other. By the end of the meal Jamie had formed some tentative impressions of each of the O'Flaherty men.

Martin was clearly in charge. All of the children seemed to respect and admire him, but she did not detect even a glimmer of fear. When he told one of them to stop a tease that was becoming too sharp, they did so immediately. He had quite a flair for storytelling and Jamie noticed that each of the kids listened to him raptly even though she imagined they had heard his stories many times. The number of repetitions was obvious when he finished one, and all of the children complained that he had changed the ending. "How else can I keep the lot of you on your toes?" he explained with a laugh.

Brendan was the most serious of the group. He was a lawyer with a small public interest law firm, working to secure the rights of people with disabilities. The other boys and Ryan looked to him as a bit of an arbiter also. He was quite adept at keeping the rest of them in line, with his wit and easy laughter, but his teasing was very gentle and sweet.

Conor was clearly the troublemaker of the boys. He seemed to love to get under everyone else's skin. Jamie could just imagine the practical jokes he must play on the others. She wasn't surprised when Martin told of the number of times he had to leave work to bail Conor out of the principal's office when he was young.

Conor worked as a carpenter, a trade that he loved and was obviously very good at. He had built Ryan's wall-to-wall closet and Martin's bookcase and the work was immaculate. He worked for a firm that did renovation work in the City, and he took obvious pride in talking about the historically accurate work his firm did on the City's many Victorian homes.

Rory was very boyish and a little shy. He was a musician and played in a band that often performed at various pubs and clubs in the City. Ryan explained that his group played primarily traditional Irish music. Jamie wasn't sure what that meant, but she hoped to find out. He traveled quite a bit when his band toured with bigger name acts, but he was at home for several months this winter, playing around the City. He would occasionally lapse into a soft Irish brogue that one of the others would call him on. Ryan explained that he spent most of the summer in Ireland every year, playing all over the country. Ryan seemed particularly fond of Rory, and she boasted to Jamie about his considerable talents as a musician. He just blushed and shook his head at the compliments, but it was clear that he appreciated them.

When dinner was ended Jamie was amazed at what happened next. With nary a word from Martin, or to each other, each child got up and began to perform a particular task.

Brendan went into the kitchen, rolled up his sleeves and put on an apron. He began to run water in the big double sink as he cleared off the surrounding counters. Conor began to clear the table in a quick but efficient manner. Rory joined Brendan and prepared to dry the dishes. Ryan was in charge of removing and folding the linen tablecloth and napkins. Jamie offered to help, but Ryan refused her offer saying, "Once we get going you could get hurt if you tried to step in."

Conor moved to Rory's right and began to place each washed and dried item in its' proper home. Ryan grabbed a broom and began to sweep the entire dining room floor. She had to shoo Martin and Jamie away from the table in order to place the chairs upside down by their seats on the wooden surface. Jamie moved to the doorway of the kitchen to watch the precision event unfold.

Brendan was finished washing by now and he moved to wash each counter in the kitchen with a mild bleach solution that he had prepared in the sink. Rory and Conor finished up and moved back into the dining room to set the table for the next meal. They used a pretty everyday tablecloth and some ironstone dishes, setting the table for 5. Brendan cleaned the tops and fronts of all of the appliances while Ryan swept the kitchen. After she had finished she got out a mop and bucket and mopped the entire room. She backed out of the room toward the screened in porch and disappeared, reemerging a few minutes later, via the front door, accompanied by Duffy.

Duffy tried his best, but gentle was not the term best used for his initial greeting of Jamie. He placed his big black paws on her waist and whimpered until she lowered her face enough to be thoroughly licked. "I guess I should have asked if you like dogs," Ryan drawled.

"Lucky for you, I love them," Jamie enthused. Her family had never had any pets but she had always wanted a dog. Her grandfather had a cute little long haired Chihuahua when she was young but he had not replaced him when the elderly dog passed away.

Duffy however, was a real dog. He went to each of the brothers in turn and licked each face. Martin made a show of disliking the attention, but he giggled as Duffy worked away despite his complaints.

As Ryan sat down on a love seat Duffy climbed right up next to her and dropped his head in her lap. "Duffy, we have company," she rebuked him. "You know there are only enough seats for the humans."

He looked up at her with plaintive, sad eyes, begging for a reprieve. He was rescued by Brendan who reminded everyone that the game was probably over. When the door to the bedroom opened Duffy bounded off the couch and headed right for the middle of the bed. Brendan checked the TV to make sure the game was over, and when everyone else was assured they would not inadvertently hear the score they all entered the room.

Jamie was surprised to see Ryan, Duffy, Conor and Rory all fit on the bed. Ryan had dashed downstairs to put on a pair of jeans and a navy blue hooded 'Cal' sweatshirt, and Duffy cuddled next to her from her horizontal position at the foot of the bed. Conor and Rory each sat against the headboard, easily able to see over Ryan and Duffy's dark heads. Brendan brought in a dining room chair for himself alone after Jamie refused his offer to bring one for her. She sat on the floor at the foot of the bed, close to Ryan's head. Martin sat in his well-used upholstered chair, and began to act as though he was reading the newspaper.

The game was a close one, way too close for the assembled 9ers fans. Everyone complained and cajoled the team to improve their execution. Every mouth however, dropped open in shock when Jamie shouted in frustration, "Oh please! My grandmother could have read that blitzing linebacker. Hit the slot, Steve, hit the slot!"

After a moments pause she realized that all eyes were on her. "Um, I watch a lot of football," she admitted with a small blush.

"How much is a lot?" Ryan inquired once she had put her eyes back in her head.

"Well, I've gone to every Stanford home game since I was born, and we go to almost every
4
9ers game," she admitted shyly.

"You've got tickets?" Conor and Rory shouted at once.

"Yeah, um, my father's firm has tickets."

"What's your fathers' firm?" asked Brendan.

"Morris and Foster," she said quietly.

"Oh," was all he said.

No one else seemed interested in talking about law firms after Young threw a perfect spiral to Hearst to cap a beautiful game ending 45 yard scoring drive.

They chatted about the game for a few more minutes until Brendan excused himself to go home and get caught up on some work. Ryan caught Jamie's eye and indicated that she wanted to go downstairs. Jamie got up and followed her out the door and down the stairs.

"So, what do you think?" Ryan asked as she flopped down on her big bed. Jamie sat on Ryan's desk chair, pulling it next to the bed and putting her stockinged feet up on the comforter.

"About what?" she asked innocently.

"You know what--what did you think of my family?" Ryan stated the obvious.

Jamie gave her a big smile as she admitted, "I don't remember when I've met a nicer group of people."

"You must not get out much," Ryan drawled, but she was obviously pleased by the compliment.

"I get out plenty, Ryan, and believe me, you are one lucky woman. Your brothers clearly adore you and your father's face lights up every time he looks at you."

Ryan gazed at her in contemplative silence for a few minutes. "I really do know how lucky I am Jamie," she said softly. "I spent a couple of years feeling sorry for myself during puberty. I missed my mother so much and it was just hard going through that with a bunch of clueless men. But once I got a little older and saw how few people share the love we have for each other..." she let out a sigh, "I thank God every day for all that I have".

"Do you really?" Jamie asked, interested in this new facet of her friend. "You've never talked about your spirituality."

"Yeah, I really do," Ryan admitted. She looked a little bashful, but continued tentatively, "I wanna tell you something that I've only told Da." She locked her clear eyes on Jamie, obviously waiting for permission.

Jamie returned her look and gave her a little encouraging smile, "Please do."

Ryan cleared her throat a little nervously as she began. "As I've told you before, my mother died when I was seven. I was just starting first grade when it happened and we were beginning instruction to receive religious instruction. The nuns told us about letting Jesus in to our hearts and all of the standard religious stuff they think 7 year olds can comprehend. But what struck me the most was when they talked about the Virgin Mary. Sister Kevin explained that we could talk to Jesus directly, but we could also get a message to him via his mother. She said that Mary would always watch over us just like our own mothers would." Ryan looked down at her folded hands and wiped a tear from her eye. Jamie took this opportunity to get up and sit down right next to her, reassuring her by her presence.

"I figured that since my mother was already with God, I didn't have to go through the Virgin Mary, I had an insider to listen to my prayers and direct them to the proper party." Here, she laughed a little at the memory of her childish self. "So from then on I prayed to my mother instead of to God or Jesus. I knew that no one would ever care more for me than she did, and I knew she would always be there to watch over me. I still do that every night," she admitted with a catch in her voice as the tears began to flow in earnest. Jamie scooted even closer and wrapped her arms tightly around Ryan's sobbing shoulders.

"Shhh, shhh, "Jamie cooed into her ear as she rocked her gently and caressed her head.

They sat like that for a few long minutes, Ryan seemingly at ease revealing herself so totally; Jamie touched beyond words at the trust that Ryan showed by her actions. After a bit Ryan leaned away to grope for a box of Kleenex on her bedside table. She took several for herself and wiped her eyes and blew her nose. She watched as Jamie did the same, clearly having been moved by the story.

"Does it bother you to talk about her, Ryan?" she finally asked.

"No, not with you or my family," Ryan replied. "I miss her more than I can express in words, but she loved me so well that I can still feel her love. Of course I would give anything to have her back, but I had her so totally when she was alive, that I am forever grateful for the short time we had together. I really love talking about her with people who understand what she means to me. It makes her come alive for me again when I talk about her."

Jamie was wonderfully pleased at this revelation of Ryan's feelings for their friendship. She leaned over and gently kissed both of Ryan's moist, pink cheeks. "I'm sure she would be proud of the woman that you have become, Ryan," she said simply.

Ryan looked up at her with the most adorable little grin that Jamie had ever seen on a human being. Her eyes were a little hooded and she looked just a bit embarrassed as she said, "Thanks Jamie, that means a lot, coming from you."

After they sat in companionable silence for a few more minutes, Jamie got up from the bed and walked around the room, examining it closely. The room looked very much like Ryan. Clean, neat, organized and fairly utilitarian, but with a little color here and there. A large built-in bookshelf covered the wall opposite the closet and it was filled with science texts, magazines, awards, trophies for various sports and photos. Jamie was struck by one such photo and after staring at it for a few moments she turned back to Ryan with tears in her eyes again. "You knew, didn't you?" she inquired plainly. Ryan rose and came to stand next to her. She put an arm around Jamie's shoulders and looked at the very familiar picture.

The 3x5 color photo in the simple frame showed a very ill woman holding a small, very melancholy child. Ryan's big blue eyes stared up at the camera and revealed all of her fears. The woman, whom Jamie guessed was quite beautiful before her illness ravaged her, also stared directly into the lens. She had a stoic, calm look in her green eyes and it was clear that she still possessed a fiery spirit. Little Ryan was holding on to her tightly, her small arms wrapped around the frail waist. Ryan's head was resting on a bony shoulder and a painfully thin hand held the back of her small head.