Mam keeps at him. Im asking you, Are you coming home so that
we can have a bit of supper or will it be midnight with no money in
your pocket and you singing Kevin Barry and the rest of the sad songs?
He puts on his cap, shoves his hands into his trouser pockets, sighs
and looks up at the ceiling. I told you before Ill be home, he says.
Later in the day Mam dresses us. She puts the twins into the pram
and off we go through the long streets of Brooklyn. Sometimes she lets
Malachy sit in the pram when hes tired of trotting along beside her. She
tells me Im too big for the pram. I could tell her I have pains in my legs
from trying to keep up with her but shes not singing and I know this
is not the day to be talking about my pains.
We come to a big gate where theres a man standing in a box with
windows all around.Mam talks to the man.She wants to know if she can
go inside to where the men are paid and maybe theyd give her some of
Dads wages so he wouldnt spend it in the bars.The man shakes his head.
Im sorry, lady, but if we did that wed have half the wives in Brooklyn
storming the place. Lotta men have the drinking problem but theres
nothing we can do long as they show up sober and do their work.
We wait across the street. Mam lets me sit on the sidewalk with my
back against the wall.She gives the twins their bottles of water and sugar
but Malachy and I have to wait till she gets money from Dad and we
can go to the Italian for tea and bread and eggs.
When the whistle blows at half five men in caps and overalls swarm
through the gate, their faces and hands black from the work. Mam tells
us watch carefully for Dad because she can hardly see across the street
herself, her eyes are that bad.There are dozens of men, then a few, then
none. Mam is crying,Why couldnt ye see him? Are ye blind or what?
She goes back to the man in the box.Are you sure there wouldnt
be one man left inside?
No, lady, he says.Theyre out. I dont know how he got past you.
We go back through the long streets of Brooklyn.The twins hold
up their bottles and cry for more water and sugar. Malachy says hes
hungry and Mam tells him wait a little, well get money from Dad and
well all have a nice supper.Well go to the Italian and get eggs and make
toast with the flames on the stove and well have jam on it. Oh, we will,
and well all be nice and warm.
Its dark on Atlantic Avenue and all the bars around the Long Island
Railroad Station are bright and noisy.We go from bar to bar looking for
Dad.Mam leaves us outside with the pram while she goes in or she sends
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