At Philomenas house the sisters and their husbands ate and drank
while Angela sat in a corner nursing the baby and crying. Philomena
stuffed her mouth with bread and ham and rumbled at Angela,Thats
what you get for being such a fool. Hardly off the boat and you fall for
that lunatic.You shoulda stayed single,put the child up for adoption,and
youd be a free woman today.Angela cried harder and Delia took up the
attack, Oh, stop it,Angela, stop it.You have nobody to blame but your-
self for gettin into trouble with a drunkard from the North, a man that
doesnt even look like a Catholic, him with his odd manner. Id say
that . . . that . . . Malachy has a streak of the Presbyterian in him right
enough.You shuddup, Jimmy.
If I was you,said Philomena,Id make sure theres no more children.
He dont have a job, so he dont, an never will the way he drinks. So . . .
no more children,Angela.Are you listenin to me?
I am, Philomena.
A year later another child was born.Angela called him Malachy after his
father and gave him a middle name, Gerard, after his fathers brother.
The MacNamara sisters said Angela was nothing but a rabbit and
they wanted nothing to do with her till she came to her senses.
Their husbands agreed.
Im in a playground on Classon Avenue in Brooklyn with my brother,
Malachy. Hes two, Im three.Were on the seesaw.
Up, down, up, down.
Malachy goes up.
I get off.
Malachy goes down. Seesaw hits the ground. He screams. His hand
is on his mouth and theres blood.
Oh, God. Blood is bad. My mother will kill me.
And here she is, trying to run across the playground. Her big belly
slows her.
She says,What did you do? What did you do to the child?
I dont know what to say. I dont know what I did.
She pulls my ear. Go home. Go to bed.
Bed? In the middle of the day?
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