APH: when the child returns home.
OK, here I return with my fanfics about nothing and, additionaly, in poor English. so no one is reading them XD. my exams are lasting; just yesterday I finished main "marathon": on Tuesday we had exam from Polish language, then on Wednesday two exams from Mathematics (as I wanted to pass both, standard and extended level) and yesterday also two exams from English. horrible! and some people had exams also today! I can't imagine how they were able to write it, my brain is just completely broken.
(fortunately, I have one-week break now.)
trying to relax, I was writing THIS. my first ever piece about Ireland. I hope it isn't controversial or something - it wasn't supposed to be. (you know, I only read about Ireland, never have been there. also, my head-canon is somehow weird.) but treat characters more as normal people, not especially nations, and enjoy (:
______________
When the child returns home.
The day was peacefully silent, with the spring dancing above the city of Dublin. The sky was clear, the air was brisk. Thousands of flowers had been brought to the city as they finally had started to bloom. Streets were colorfully cheerful because of them; stallholders on Moore Street were outshouting each other, trying to sell their carnations, tulips and daffodils as soon as possible. However, even their shouts weren't loud, but muffled by a soft wind, carrying the scent of hope.
At least it was how Byrne did see it. He had got out of the train an hour ago and now he was heading for the suburbs of the city. He could board some bus, but didn't want to. The weather was perfect for taking a stroll. The day was perfect. But it didn't make him happier nor less nervous.
His fingers were tightly clenched around the stalks of yellow roses. He hasn't been in Dublin for too long time. Actually he only remembered it as a memory from his happy and careless childhood. Green shamrock in the grass and Irish lullabies sang by Cathleen each evening, no matter if he had been able to fall asleep or not. And then the world had turned dark and suddenly Byrne had found himself in an unknown place inhabited by the strangers, who had told him he hadn't been allowed to come back to Dublin anymore. He had been cried, he remembered, he had been cried like the child cries, when its mother is gone. And it really had been like that. He hasn't heard Cathleen's voice singing him lullabies anymore. She wasn't his mother anymore.
Or, maybe, it was how he used to think.
Byrne stopped in front of a detached house with an emerald roof tiling and a flowering garden. He looked at turquoise shutters, then at an old apple tree. He recognized them; it was Cathleen's house.
With his heart in his mouth he crossed a gate as it was open anyway. The closer he was getting to the house, the more memories it was giving him back. There had been a swing on the apple tree; and there he had found a four-leaf clover; and there he had fallen down from a ladder, knocking out one tooth-
”Hey, boy, are you looking for some-”
Byrne turned back immediately, his cheeks red, his movements nervous. She was standing there, in the gate, with disheveled red hair and a basket full of flowers. She hasn't changed at all since he had seen her last time in the crowd just before another IRA's bomb attack in Belfast. But she even haven't changed since his childhood; at least the nations didn't get old so quickly. Her green eyes were still shining, her freckled face remained young. As Byrne turned back, her expression changed from kindly interested for blank and somehow embarrassed. She froze as she was moving, her hand in her hair and unspoken words back in her throat.
An awkward silence hung in the air.
It was doubly awkward for Byrne. Firstly, he really didn't want to be caught out by her in her own garden. Secondly, that situation wasn't like he wanted it to be - she was supposed to be in the house and just normally open a door - so he really didn't know what to say, had completely blank mind.
These were yellow roses, which saved him.
”I-it's for you” he declared, pulling them out. ”Happy Mother's Day.”
And he dropped his eyes, blushing.
Byrne was holding the flowers in this way for a while, staring at the grass under his feet, too embarrassed to look at her. But as any reaction didn't come, he dared to do it. And then he froze, petrified.
She was crying. She was trying to smile - probably wanting to - but the tears couldn't stop as they once started to flow. The basket in her hands was trembling, she was trembling and Byrne couldn't do anything but hug her.
And so he did.
She started to cry even more, hiding her face in Byrne's arms.
”B-Byr-rne, I-I-am s-so s-sorry.” she sobbed. ”I-I'm s-so ter-ribly so---rry!”
„Everything is alright now, Mum, everything is alright.” he whispered soothingly.
And what was the strangest thing: he really believed what he was telling her.
*
When Byrne managed to reassure his mother, they finally went in the house. Unlike Cathleen, the house has changed a lot inside - the only one sign of passing time - so that Byrne was a bit confused and it took him some time to get used to new furniture, modern style and new colors. Naturally turquoise and green left as they were Cathleen's favourite colors, but also some dark brown appeared, making rooms look somehow different and smaller than the way Byrne remembered them.
Or maybe it was only because he was really little child back then.
They ate breakfast together: fried eggs with bacon, toast and tea, too strong in Byrne's opinion; yellow roses in the vase on the table. Cathleen's eyes shone each time she looked at them. Byrne was very happy to see her smiling again; he felt as if his lost childhood was given back to him now. They were talking about completely normal things, avoiding great politics. Did he enjoyed the journey from Belfast, what was his life like, what was he doing now. He was answering every questions and she was listening to him with genuine interest, sometimes laughing, sometimes putting in a word.
But she didn't say anything about herself; Byrne noticed it quite early and respected it since he knew it was really hard for Cathleen to see him and talk with him just like mother with her son. Separation was too long and too many things had happened through these years. No return to the past was possible, both of them knew it. But they decided not to give up and rebuild their relationship once again, from the very beginning.
That's why Byrne came here to give Cathleen flowers for Mother's Day. To make her understand that he didn't have any grudge anymore because of what had happened between them in the past.
Byrne left her house in the late afternoon, although she wanted him to stay.
”I have too much work, Mum, I'm sorry.” he apologized.
”So...” she hesitated. ”So you won't come back to live with me, right?”
Byrne shake his head.
„Right, I won't. I'm sorry but... there are people who are waiting for me.”
Sad smile appeared on her face.
”If you say so... Alright then. You're a big boy after all. But visit me sometimes.”
„Of course, I will! And next time I won't surprise you so much, I promise.”
They smiled to each other. Cathleen stood on her toes and gave him a kiss on his forehead.
”Take care.”
Their farewell was warm and full of hope, as a wind which Byrne was feeling in the morning while walking through the streets of Dublin.
*
The fairies came in the evening. Cathleen greeted them cheerfully.
Next the doorbell rang.
Cathleen looked at the fairies hesitantly, but they only moved their shoulders. Cathleen sighed and shouted.
”Wait a minute!”
She looked around just to check if the kitchen is clean enough, wagged her finger at the fairies and headed for the door.
”What's that?” she asked with fake indignation at the sight of Arthur. ”You're sending a patrol before you come?”
”Oh, you mean them.” Arthur waved his hand. ”They just wanted to see you. Ah, and that's for you for Mother's Day.” he added, giving her a bouquet of tulips.
”I'm not your mother” observed Cathleen rationally.
”But you're Byrne's mother. Can I come in?”
Cathleen didn't answer, just took few steps backwards. Arthur came in and looked around with interest. Cathleen headed for the kitchen to put the bouquet in another vase.
The fairies were nowhere to be found already, so Cathleen guessed they just flew out to play in the garden. It took her a while to find a vase, but still Arthur didn't come to the kitchen. She sighed. That Englishman could be sometimes really irritating. Not only that he came unannounced, but also he was sight-seeing her house now, completely uninvited.
Plus, she didn't want to see him.
Cathleen found Arthur in the living room; he was looking at the pictures hanging on the wall. He couldn't see her entering the room, but had to sense her presence, because he said out loud.
”It has changed.”
”Byrne said the same thing.” she replied.
”So he was here today...?” Arthur still didn't turn back.
”Yes. We spent almost the whole day together.”
”And?... How was it?”
Cathleen laughed briefly and sat down on a sofa.
„Why do you care so much?” she asked. ”Was it you who told him to come here?”
Arthur finally turned back. In the light of setting sun he looked really exhausted and... old, as if he was tired of being a nation.
”No, it wasn't me. He decided it himself.”
”Oh, that's good!” Cathleen smiled widely. „He grew up independent.”
Arthur frowned, but didn't say a thing. They were looking at each other for another while, then Cathleen smiled at Arthur and stared at the window and the garden outside, with the fairies playing in it. She continued.
”Yes, he grew up pretty much since you took him away from me. And it seems that he doesn't want to listen to anybody.”
”He was always stubborn.” muttered Arthur.
”And sensitive.” added Cathleen sternly, then closed her eyes. ”You know that everything I did was because I... I really love him. But... it seems that I only hurt him in this way.”
She went quiet and there was a silence between them for a moment; a muffled laughter of the fairies was the only one sound then. However that silence wasn't awkward, it was somehow needed and even relaxing. But had to be broken.
”Cath...”
”You don't have to worry, Artie” she interrupted him in mid-flow. ”He told me today that he doesn't want to come back to Dublin, so I guess he would stay at your place.”
”It's not the matter, Cath.” said Arthur impatiently. ”I don't want to influence him in any way now. And I'm really glad that he came to you today.”
Another while of silence. Cathleen stood up and came up to the door overlooking the garden, wanting to open them and, first of all, to hide her emotion; she dreamt about the day, when their quarrels will end and surprisingly it seemed that it came. More or less. Both of them - Byrne and Arthur - came to her house to talk with her quite normally, so she could believe that everything was changing for the better.
As Cathleen opened the door, the laughter of the fairies became more audible as well as other sounds: the swoosh of the wind in the trees, distant drone of traffic and the buzz of insects. The sun was almost under the horizon and the first stars appeared on the sky. The evening was peacefully silent as everything was falling asleep.
Cathleen smiled at the sight of the fairies and turned back to Arthur.
”Thank you for coming here. Brother.”
(fortunately, I have one-week break now.)
trying to relax, I was writing THIS. my first ever piece about Ireland. I hope it isn't controversial or something - it wasn't supposed to be. (you know, I only read about Ireland, never have been there. also, my head-canon is somehow weird.) but treat characters more as normal people, not especially nations, and enjoy (:
______________
When the child returns home.
The day was peacefully silent, with the spring dancing above the city of Dublin. The sky was clear, the air was brisk. Thousands of flowers had been brought to the city as they finally had started to bloom. Streets were colorfully cheerful because of them; stallholders on Moore Street were outshouting each other, trying to sell their carnations, tulips and daffodils as soon as possible. However, even their shouts weren't loud, but muffled by a soft wind, carrying the scent of hope.
At least it was how Byrne did see it. He had got out of the train an hour ago and now he was heading for the suburbs of the city. He could board some bus, but didn't want to. The weather was perfect for taking a stroll. The day was perfect. But it didn't make him happier nor less nervous.
His fingers were tightly clenched around the stalks of yellow roses. He hasn't been in Dublin for too long time. Actually he only remembered it as a memory from his happy and careless childhood. Green shamrock in the grass and Irish lullabies sang by Cathleen each evening, no matter if he had been able to fall asleep or not. And then the world had turned dark and suddenly Byrne had found himself in an unknown place inhabited by the strangers, who had told him he hadn't been allowed to come back to Dublin anymore. He had been cried, he remembered, he had been cried like the child cries, when its mother is gone. And it really had been like that. He hasn't heard Cathleen's voice singing him lullabies anymore. She wasn't his mother anymore.
Or, maybe, it was how he used to think.
Byrne stopped in front of a detached house with an emerald roof tiling and a flowering garden. He looked at turquoise shutters, then at an old apple tree. He recognized them; it was Cathleen's house.
With his heart in his mouth he crossed a gate as it was open anyway. The closer he was getting to the house, the more memories it was giving him back. There had been a swing on the apple tree; and there he had found a four-leaf clover; and there he had fallen down from a ladder, knocking out one tooth-
”Hey, boy, are you looking for some-”
Byrne turned back immediately, his cheeks red, his movements nervous. She was standing there, in the gate, with disheveled red hair and a basket full of flowers. She hasn't changed at all since he had seen her last time in the crowd just before another IRA's bomb attack in Belfast. But she even haven't changed since his childhood; at least the nations didn't get old so quickly. Her green eyes were still shining, her freckled face remained young. As Byrne turned back, her expression changed from kindly interested for blank and somehow embarrassed. She froze as she was moving, her hand in her hair and unspoken words back in her throat.
An awkward silence hung in the air.
It was doubly awkward for Byrne. Firstly, he really didn't want to be caught out by her in her own garden. Secondly, that situation wasn't like he wanted it to be - she was supposed to be in the house and just normally open a door - so he really didn't know what to say, had completely blank mind.
These were yellow roses, which saved him.
”I-it's for you” he declared, pulling them out. ”Happy Mother's Day.”
And he dropped his eyes, blushing.
Byrne was holding the flowers in this way for a while, staring at the grass under his feet, too embarrassed to look at her. But as any reaction didn't come, he dared to do it. And then he froze, petrified.
She was crying. She was trying to smile - probably wanting to - but the tears couldn't stop as they once started to flow. The basket in her hands was trembling, she was trembling and Byrne couldn't do anything but hug her.
And so he did.
She started to cry even more, hiding her face in Byrne's arms.
”B-Byr-rne, I-I-am s-so s-sorry.” she sobbed. ”I-I'm s-so ter-ribly so---rry!”
„Everything is alright now, Mum, everything is alright.” he whispered soothingly.
And what was the strangest thing: he really believed what he was telling her.
*
When Byrne managed to reassure his mother, they finally went in the house. Unlike Cathleen, the house has changed a lot inside - the only one sign of passing time - so that Byrne was a bit confused and it took him some time to get used to new furniture, modern style and new colors. Naturally turquoise and green left as they were Cathleen's favourite colors, but also some dark brown appeared, making rooms look somehow different and smaller than the way Byrne remembered them.
Or maybe it was only because he was really little child back then.
They ate breakfast together: fried eggs with bacon, toast and tea, too strong in Byrne's opinion; yellow roses in the vase on the table. Cathleen's eyes shone each time she looked at them. Byrne was very happy to see her smiling again; he felt as if his lost childhood was given back to him now. They were talking about completely normal things, avoiding great politics. Did he enjoyed the journey from Belfast, what was his life like, what was he doing now. He was answering every questions and she was listening to him with genuine interest, sometimes laughing, sometimes putting in a word.
But she didn't say anything about herself; Byrne noticed it quite early and respected it since he knew it was really hard for Cathleen to see him and talk with him just like mother with her son. Separation was too long and too many things had happened through these years. No return to the past was possible, both of them knew it. But they decided not to give up and rebuild their relationship once again, from the very beginning.
That's why Byrne came here to give Cathleen flowers for Mother's Day. To make her understand that he didn't have any grudge anymore because of what had happened between them in the past.
Byrne left her house in the late afternoon, although she wanted him to stay.
”I have too much work, Mum, I'm sorry.” he apologized.
”So...” she hesitated. ”So you won't come back to live with me, right?”
Byrne shake his head.
„Right, I won't. I'm sorry but... there are people who are waiting for me.”
Sad smile appeared on her face.
”If you say so... Alright then. You're a big boy after all. But visit me sometimes.”
„Of course, I will! And next time I won't surprise you so much, I promise.”
They smiled to each other. Cathleen stood on her toes and gave him a kiss on his forehead.
”Take care.”
Their farewell was warm and full of hope, as a wind which Byrne was feeling in the morning while walking through the streets of Dublin.
*
The fairies came in the evening. Cathleen greeted them cheerfully.
Next the doorbell rang.
Cathleen looked at the fairies hesitantly, but they only moved their shoulders. Cathleen sighed and shouted.
”Wait a minute!”
She looked around just to check if the kitchen is clean enough, wagged her finger at the fairies and headed for the door.
”What's that?” she asked with fake indignation at the sight of Arthur. ”You're sending a patrol before you come?”
”Oh, you mean them.” Arthur waved his hand. ”They just wanted to see you. Ah, and that's for you for Mother's Day.” he added, giving her a bouquet of tulips.
”I'm not your mother” observed Cathleen rationally.
”But you're Byrne's mother. Can I come in?”
Cathleen didn't answer, just took few steps backwards. Arthur came in and looked around with interest. Cathleen headed for the kitchen to put the bouquet in another vase.
The fairies were nowhere to be found already, so Cathleen guessed they just flew out to play in the garden. It took her a while to find a vase, but still Arthur didn't come to the kitchen. She sighed. That Englishman could be sometimes really irritating. Not only that he came unannounced, but also he was sight-seeing her house now, completely uninvited.
Plus, she didn't want to see him.
Cathleen found Arthur in the living room; he was looking at the pictures hanging on the wall. He couldn't see her entering the room, but had to sense her presence, because he said out loud.
”It has changed.”
”Byrne said the same thing.” she replied.
”So he was here today...?” Arthur still didn't turn back.
”Yes. We spent almost the whole day together.”
”And?... How was it?”
Cathleen laughed briefly and sat down on a sofa.
„Why do you care so much?” she asked. ”Was it you who told him to come here?”
Arthur finally turned back. In the light of setting sun he looked really exhausted and... old, as if he was tired of being a nation.
”No, it wasn't me. He decided it himself.”
”Oh, that's good!” Cathleen smiled widely. „He grew up independent.”
Arthur frowned, but didn't say a thing. They were looking at each other for another while, then Cathleen smiled at Arthur and stared at the window and the garden outside, with the fairies playing in it. She continued.
”Yes, he grew up pretty much since you took him away from me. And it seems that he doesn't want to listen to anybody.”
”He was always stubborn.” muttered Arthur.
”And sensitive.” added Cathleen sternly, then closed her eyes. ”You know that everything I did was because I... I really love him. But... it seems that I only hurt him in this way.”
She went quiet and there was a silence between them for a moment; a muffled laughter of the fairies was the only one sound then. However that silence wasn't awkward, it was somehow needed and even relaxing. But had to be broken.
”Cath...”
”You don't have to worry, Artie” she interrupted him in mid-flow. ”He told me today that he doesn't want to come back to Dublin, so I guess he would stay at your place.”
”It's not the matter, Cath.” said Arthur impatiently. ”I don't want to influence him in any way now. And I'm really glad that he came to you today.”
Another while of silence. Cathleen stood up and came up to the door overlooking the garden, wanting to open them and, first of all, to hide her emotion; she dreamt about the day, when their quarrels will end and surprisingly it seemed that it came. More or less. Both of them - Byrne and Arthur - came to her house to talk with her quite normally, so she could believe that everything was changing for the better.
As Cathleen opened the door, the laughter of the fairies became more audible as well as other sounds: the swoosh of the wind in the trees, distant drone of traffic and the buzz of insects. The sun was almost under the horizon and the first stars appeared on the sky. The evening was peacefully silent as everything was falling asleep.
Cathleen smiled at the sight of the fairies and turned back to Arthur.
”Thank you for coming here. Brother.”