looks so helpless I put my arms around him and help him off the swing.
He hugs me. I wont tell your story anymore. I wont tell Freddie about
Coo, Coo. I want to laugh but I cant because the twins are crying in
the pram and its dark in the playground and whats the use of trying to
make funny faces and letting things fall off your head when they cant
see you in the dark?
The Italian grocery shop is across the street and I see bananas,
apples, oranges. I know the twins can eat bananas. Malachy loves
bananas and I like them myself. But you need money, Italians are not
known for giving away bananas especially to the McCourts who owe
them money already for groceries.
My mother tells me all the time, Never, never leave that playground
except to come home.But what am I to do with the twins bawling with
the hunger in the pram? I tell Malachy Ill be back in a minute. I make
sure no one is looking, grab a bunch of bananas outside the Italian gro-
cery shop and run down Myrtle Avenue, away from the playground,
around the block and back to the other end where theres a hole in the
fence. We push the pram to a dark corner and peel the bananas for
the twins.There are five bananas in the bunch and we feast on them in
the dark corner.The twins slobber and chew and spread banana over
their faces, their hair, their clothes. I realize then that questions will be
asked.Mam will want to know why the twins are smothered in bananas,
where did you get them? I cant tell her about the Italian shop on the
corner. I will have to say, A man.
Thats what Ill say.A man.
Then the strange thing happens. Theres a man at the gate of the
playground. Hes calling me. Oh, God, its the Italian. Hey, sonny, come
ere. Hey, talkin to ya. Come ere.
I go to him.
You the kid wid the little bruddas, right? Twins?
Yes, sir.
Heah. Gotta bag o fruit. I don give it to you I trow id out. Right?
So, heah, take the bag.Ya got apples, oranges, bananas.Ya like bananas,
right? I think ya like bananas, eh? Ha, ha. I know ya like the bananas.
Heah, take the bag.Ya gotta nice mother there.Ya father? Well, ya know,
hes got the problem, the Irish thing. Give them twins a banana. Shud
em up. I hear em all the way cross the street.
Thank you, sir.
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