Chapter 13

Thirteen

P retty

It was a long drive from Back Bay to Cillian's neighborhood, as Paddy had given me a small rundown of his family. He had three brothers, one younger, two older, and a sister that was only older by a year or two. Apparently, outside of him and Cillian, most of his siblings were what you'd consider Irish twins. Back to back.

His youngest had four children, something that stung a little bit, because after having Elijah, I'd always wanted more kids, but Vernon seemed content after having his prized, precious son.

I loved Elijah too, but I'd always pictured myself having a girl, someone I'd naturally have things in common with and teach things to. But in order to have children, you'd have to be intimate first. Thinking about it just made me mourn my sex life, whenever I'd actually had one. At least with Paddy's sister, she'd only had one child, so that made me feel a little better.

You could tell the house by the stacks of parked cars outside. After expertly parking his car beside the lot, he beeped his horn several times, as the front door opened and three handsome men stepped out.

Having spent most my time with him, call me close minded, but I figured he'd belong to a family of blonds. Two redheads and a dark-haired man just as tall, bearded and handsome stalked out, but only one of them were quick to have words with Paddy.

"There you go, scaring my kids with your fucking horn." The freckled redhead pointed aggressively in the direction of Paddy.

"Shut up and help me bring this shite inside and make sure you put out two more chairs. I brought a few guests," Paddy yelled, as I hopped out the car to be met with his dark-haired brother.

"And a fit one this one is. Why have I never met you?" He asked, kissing the back of my hand.

"This is Pretty Washington. The job I've been telling you guys about," Paddy confirmed.

" This is the job?" His brother aggressively pointed in my direction. "I may have to go into bodyguard work. Sweet mother of Mary!" he overemphasized, licking his lips. Clearly flirting ran at his family.

"Bellamy!" Elijah squealed, as he hopped out of the car, giving the man a hug that the man returned.

"So, you're the one I should talk to about my son getting a black eye?" I playfully brought my hands to my hips.

"Scout's honor," Bellamy laughed and held up his hands in defense. "Didn't know it'd get Paddy in trouble. Next time I'll only let the kid go rounds if I ring you and get permission first," he said, as he took the casserole dish Paddy handed him, and Paddy proceeded to give a light introductions.

"Dumbo over here is my little brother Cilly." Which I assume he called him Dumbo in reference to his non-pinned back ears.

"Fuck you Paddy," he shot back, as Paddy laughed to himself and Cillian ducked inside with a dish.

"Bellamy, you got to watch this one. Slicker than a bar of soap," Paddy jested.

"Hey, watch it. You ain't too old," Bellamy joked, as his tongue hung out in a taunting manner.

"Pretty, meet my brother Tadhg." It was the most formal introduction, so he was likely the one he held in the highest regard. This brother was a giant. Long red hair that he wore combed back, and a thick, bushy beard that matched.

Normally, I didn't like beards that long, but on his brother, it looked authoritative. I wouldn't be surprised if he was the one they all answered to.

"Nice to meet you," Tadhg spoke stoically, taking a dish as Paddy leaned in and assured me.

"He's normally like that. Don't take it personal," Paddy whispered.

As he guided me inside, I couldn't hide my shock seeing his little brother's wife. The whole ride here, had the man forgotten to mention she was Black!

"Paddy!" A petite, dark skinned Colored woman with tightly wound curls, surprised him with a hug, as his eyes widened and Paddy leaned out and reached for her stomach.

"Jesus Christ, how many you gonna put in there? How long you been hiding this?" Referring to her carefully hidden baby bump.

"Only a few weeks. We lost the last one, and we didn't want to announce it until we were sure," she beamed.

"So, you did this on purpose?" He joked. "Where the fuck is he?"

"Careful about the swearing," she warned, as Paddy gathered his youngest brother in a headlock, forcing them to tumble on the floor as Cillian fought back.

"Congratulations, you little rascal, but you could afford to pull out every once in a while."

"All right, enough," Bellamy intervened, pulling them apart. "Remember, Paddy's got guests over.

Awkwardly, all the eyes in the room seem to settle on me. A white woman with hair as dark as Bellamy's, but eyes as bright as Paddy's other brothers approached, wearing a devilish smile that I had never seen on a woman.

"órfhlaith. I'm Paddy's sister." Very direct and to the point. She reached for my hand to shake. In a less intimate environment, I would've been drawn to her masculine style, but what drew me in were how eerie her eyes were. They bore right into you, like she was staring into your soul.

"Oh my, I feel like I'm seeing things," Cillian's wife exclaimed, finally getting a good look at me. "But you look like in that entertainer, Pretty Washington."

Not that I didn't expect to anyone to bring attention to my background, I just hadn't wanted my celebrity to rob the dinner of its normal night.

"I wish I could say I wasn't, but guilty as charged," I assured her.

"Oh Paddy, you know Pretty Washington?" she squealed, unable to hide her excitement.

"Yeah, I know Pretty Washington. But she's only Pretty tonight, so just make her and her son feel welcome," he said, pressing a kiss to his sister in law on the forehead.

"I'm Queenie, by the way. Cillian's wife." As she barely got to shake my hand before three kids came running, two mixed race, one white, all with red hair.

"Mommy, mommy Riona won't share—" The youngest boy whined, hugging his mother's leg.

"He broke my last wooden duck." The daughter Riona, complained.

"Cilly, you're not always careful when it comes to Riona's toys," Queenie defended her eldest but in a gentle way. I could already tell what kind of mother she was by her interaction with these ones.

"I'll be careful this time?—"

"Uncle Paddy!" the white nephew interrupted, accepting Paddy's high five.

"Eoghan, I got a friend of mine here who wants to meet you, but you can only play with him if you take care of him. Think you could do that?" Paddy said before calling over Elijah, but naturally Elijah asked for my permission first.

"Mommy, can I go play?"

"Sure, but just be mindful that this isn't our house, okay?"

"Do you collect baseball cards?" The one that I'd just learned was named Eoghan, asked.

"Yeah!"

"Come see my baseball cards!" the gleeful child said, as they both ran off into the house, and Paddy snatched one of his nephews off of Queenie's leg.

"Stop bothering your mother," he scolded, as he carried him away so we could finish our conversation.

"You have such a beautiful home, Queenie." And I meant it. Not just by the look, but by the warmth that emulated with the people inside.

"I try," she admitted humbly, as Cillian wrapped his arms around his wife from behind, kissing her on the back of the neck, rubbing her bump.

"Cillian, remember that picture we saw last year? The one with Lena Horne in it?"

"Woman, you know I'm not good with names and faces," he whined, as it wasn't long before his daughter was tugging at his pants.

"Daddy, can you pick me up?" At her request, Cillian reached down and lifted his daughter off the ground.

"Who's my little munchkin?" he cooed, as he gently rubbed his nose against her, causing a melodic laugh.

It pained me to admit this, but I was a little jealous. Cillian was young . He looked like a baby himself, yet here he was, dropping everything to give his daughter the attention that she craved. Most times, I had to remind Vernon not to forget Elijah's birthday.

I had never seen a successful couple of different races before, so I didn't know they could be so loving. Cillian had been more than affectionate to his wife in fifteen seconds than Vernon had been to me all year.

Most times, there was a deep seed of shame I felt at being mixed race. Sometimes I wished I'd just had two Black parents, as being half white, I knew I was my father's biggest shame. Seeing an interracial couple actually work just proved that my father was an asshole and not worth the space in my head that I gave him.

"I'm sorry," Queenie apologized. "It can get pretty noisy in here."

"Don't apologize. It's nice seeing such a lively home for once. Why don't you sit so you don't have to put weight on your feet?" I offered, as we sat down on the closest couch together.

"Can't believe I have Pretty Washington in my home."

"I'm just a woman, dear. Bleed like everyone else."

"But it must be exciting doing what you do. Traveling, seeing the world. I think before I got married, I hoped I'd get the privilege of entertaining the idea of traveling more. Guess God had other plans for me," she smiled weakly.

"Traveling ain't all it's cracked up to be. I miss my son a lot on the road. Only thing important is if your husband at least makes you happy?"

"He does," Queenie beamed. "We have hard times too, but I feel like I got lucky in that department. He's such a good father, and when I'm drowning, he doesn't just wait for me to sink. He helps me more than what I was taught a man would do for his wife."

"See, that kind of wellness you can't pay for. Having a present father is worth more than seeing the world. You're truly rich when you got a good man in your life."

"Only real good man is a dead one," órfhlaith joined in, lighting a cigarette as she laughed.

"órfhlaith, don't be so cynical," Queenie warned.

"What, it's not like I'm talking about my brothers. Besides, they're not really men, more like little devils that wear human skin. They're good uncles, though. Shite at everything else," órfhlaith joked. Her signature stare burning holes into my skin as I caught her attention. "So, you're an actress?"

"I'm actually a pianist, but I can sing too. When I've done big studio films, it was mainly musical numbers, but I've had decent roles in race films too.

"That's interesting. Only thing my parents ever nourished in me was taking care of my brothers. Only thing I've ever been good at, so I envy you," she said with a sinister smile.

"Well, your brother, Paddy must have learned from the best, because he's wonderful with Elijah."

"I'm sure he does his best," órfhlaith downplayed Paddy's capabilities. "It does worry me when he's gone for too long though."

"Why is that?"

"Paddy's decent when he's awake, but he gets those damn bloody nightmares from time to time. He's got shell shock like a bitch."

"órfhlaith!" Queenie interrupted.

"What, I just thought she should know."

"Paddy stays downstairs in the apartment below ours, so I've never seen that side of him. But if it's really that bad, what should I know?" I asked with genuine concern.

"Convince him that he's here, not on a battlefield. You slam a door, it bloody thunders—he hears the crack of a firework, and he jumps out of his skin. Brings him back there, a place he don't want to be. Make him smell something. Touch something. Something he can only smell here or touch her. That's what usually helps mellow him out," órfhlaith explained.

Paddy had told me what he was comfortable with about his time overseas. He said that he had had to be a different person to survive it, and that he put it behind him the best he could. If he was having nightmares so long after his time spent, what he went through must have been worse than he described.

Before I could inquire more, Cillian rushed into the room rocking a dark-haired infant in his arms. "Cillian, what's wrong?" Queenie nearly stood, as he advised against her doing so.

"Nothing. It's just Rory woke up his sister. I'm gonna separate them so Eábha could get some sleep."

"Here I got it," Paddy materialized out of nowhere, taking the baby out from his brother's hands. Paddy looked adorable cradling a baby. He was good with kids, but quite possibly the most surprising trait was how good he appeared with a newborn.

"What were you lasses going on about?" Paddy joined us in an armchair not far in front of the couch.

"I was just talking about you," órfhlaith said, putting her cigarette out.

"Don't listen to a word the shrew says," he said in jest.

"We were just asking about her career and roles in movies. I just remember seeing you in Castle in the Sky, and I'd never seen a Colored woman play the piano so well," Queenie proudly announced.

"She that good?" Paddy asked, jokingly.

"Why don't you play something?" Queenie insisted. "Unless it's too much of an ask. I know you didn't come here solely to entertain us. But it would be nice to hear music for once."

"We play music," Cillian said defensively.

"And it's lovely. It'd just be nice to hear something jazzy, every now and again," Queenie added.

"I could go for something. My current place is soundproof, so I never get a chance to hear you play," Paddy encouraged. By the time I planned to turn the offer down, half the room was egging me on to play.

Being the center of attention wasn't new for me, but being in such an intimate setting was a little intimidating, given only one host was familiar with my voice and style. I had to tone down the robustness of my voice in white films because a strong voice was too much for an audience to imitate with no church background. Only time audiences heard me really sing my heart out were live performances.

Assuming the piano in the background of the room was where they'd meant for me to play, I switched from my seat on the couch to the bench in front of the piano. My hands always fluttered a bit getting used to a foreign piano, but I liked to test the sound to see if I were working with something full and round or brighter and mellow.

Checking to make sure both the white and black keys were on the same level, my hands expertly glided across piano keys as I decided to share something that I was working on while I wasn't in a room full of critics.

Soon, my stage fright went away as the voice that burst out of me sang a song about moving on in a swing-adjacent tune. Halfway through, seemed like the entire house was in the room as Bellamy offered his hand to órfhlaith and they danced to the whimsical tune.

I almost hadn't wanted the attention to end. Vernon used to watch me play just for the pure excitement. Now he only sat in to make sure I stayed on brand. Sometimes I forgot what it was like to play for others, for fun, and not because a big check was expected to follow it.

"That was amazing!" Queenie clapped, as the clapping appeared to be contagious, and it wasn't long before everyone else was too.

"It's just a little something I've been working on. It's not done, along with over half a dozen others I'm still tweaking. But it's good to hear the words of confidence."

"We should really get started on dinner," órfhlaith suggested pushing her brother, Bellamy close to the patio door. Cillian took his son back from Paddy, insisting that he'd meet everyone outside while Queenie joined him to check on their other newborn.

Two long tables plus a small one for the kids made up the space in the home's backyard, as much of the table was already set for the food. Volunteers all carried something to the table from the kitchen, as all there was left was a cobbler someone almost missed.

When Cillian and Queenie finally joined, they came out with separate basinets carrying their twin children. órfhlaith insisted Queenie to sit, as she dressed her brother's plates with food, including Paddy's.

She wasn't lying when she said he took care of her brothers. I just hope they took care of her in return. It didn't take long after a prayer for many to bond over food and spirits. I would have enjoyed getting my mind off things regardless, but even in a short time, everyone had made me feel welcome.

"So…what embarrassing stories can you tell me about Paddy?" I asked whimsically, hoping to share in a harmful laugh at his expense.

"This one right here was a bully. Holding up neighborhood kids for their lunch money. To be honest, some things haven't changed," Cillian joked. It hit better knowing what he did for a living, but I was guessing they didn't know I knew that.

"Oh, what about the time he thought he got some lass pregnant? Turns out they never even shagged. He was just slow enough to think because he came on her knickers, it was enough to knock her up," órfhlaith added.

"That story is not appropriate in front of children," Queenie sneered.

"I'm sorry, Queenie, it's just the best one I got."

"Well, I was fifteen at the time. Ain't like Pa or mum ever explained any of that shite to me. They were ten seconds away from making me marry that girl, till she fessed up and said her boyfriend dumped her when he found out. Glad almost being baby trapped is funny to you."

"Paddy's hard to make fun of. He's either gone too long or ahead of the joke," Bellamy added. "Don't hurt that he's been a bloody pretty boy his whole life. Pa used to say?—"

"Don't!" Paddy spoke with authority.

"What I was only messing?—"

"I said fucking don't!" This time, Paddy banged on the table as it took some time to divert the tension away. Mentioning his father didn't appear to be a good subject for him, and I'd have to tread lightly if he ever came up in casual conversation again.

"When are you due, Queenie?" I asked excited for her.

"I'm only four and a half months along, and the twins came a little late, so I'm not sure."

"Thought of any names?" Paddy asked, finding his rhythm after creating the initial silence.

"If it's a boy, we were thinking about Aiden," Cillian added.

"If it's a girl, I really want to name her Georgina," Queenie beamed.

"Not an Irish name?" Paddy asked, surprised.

"Sullivan's Irish enough. Plus, Queenie's worried what it'll be like for them when they're old enough for school. Black kids with Irish names. I didn't even think about that when it came to names, but I didn't do so much school either," Cillian admitted.

Every time I attempted to guide the conversation, no matter what I did, it always came back to me how I started, where I was from, what inspired the food I brought. It was like being interviewed for a paper, the amount of questions directed at me.

"What brought along your lovely presence this Sunday dinner?" Bellamy flirted.

My heart sunk back into my stomach, reminding myself why I was here tonight and not celebrating ten years of marriage with my husband. Imagine my relief when Paddy intercepted for me. "The woman's always working. Figured she could use a night off, so I invited her. No big deal."

Conversational redirects gave me time between questions to not feel overwhelmed by them. By the time dinner was consumed, I couldn't believe how late it had been. Cillian asserted that his wife should sit in the bedroom and rest, and many of us helped with the cleanup, as the kids chased each other on the open grass.

"Mommy, Eoghan asked if I could spend the night over his house. Can I?" Elijah begged.

"Elijah, we mustn't impose. You just met them."

"But this is the first time I've had someone to play with my own age," Elijah argued.

órfhlaith walked by, eavesdropping on the conversation. "Would really be no trouble. I have the room and it's just me and Eoghan. Some cases Bellamy, if he's hungry."

Being Caribbean, the thought of letting my son sleep over a stranger's house gave me pause, but I'd never seen Elijah bond with kids his own age since moving to Back Bay. I kept forgetting how much it affected his confidence to not have someone to bond with.

Against my better judgment, I said yes, but only under certain conditions. "If I let you go, you have to be on your best behavior, and if you need to come home, call me. I'll pick you up right away."

"None of them have school tomorrow, since it's a holiday. Got plenty of old clothes for him to change into, unless you want him to bring his own clothes." órfhlaith offered.

Once we got things sorted, it took an additional twenty minutes after the first ‘ I'll let you go' to actually make it to the car. Irish folk weren't any better than Black folk in that regard. Halfway through the ride home, I felt compelled to thank Paddy for such a wonderful time.

"Thank you for helping me make the most of tonight, Paddy."

"Not a problem. Just glad that you enjoyed yourself."

"You didn't tell me that your sister in law was Black," I said, playfully looking for a spar.

"Did it matter?"

" No . I was just caught off guard. Not in a bad way. It just brought up a bad memory about meeting my father for the first and only time. I know I don't look it, but I'm Irish on my dad's side."

"You fucking joking?" He turned, his vicious contrasting eyes narrowing at me.

"I wish I was. He's probably where I get most of my talent from. He's an entertainer too."

"Would I know him?" Paddy questioned quickly.

" Everyone knows him. Honestly, after what he said to me, I can't even walk by a movie poster of his without crying. Guess it didn't look good for his legacy to have a half Black daughter. I said I'd take it to the grave who he was, but?—"

"Don't tell me. Take it from me. Sometimes, things like that are better not to know."

"You sound like you're speaking from experience," I questioned but the comment immediately made Paddy disengage and quiet for the remainder of the ride. When we finally reached the garage, I took his silence as a sign that we had planned to part ways, so when I kicked off my shoes once I reached my floor, it surprised me when Paddy joined me with two glasses and my good rum.

"By the way, you need some fucking whiskey in this house," he said, pouring us both a shot.

"Hope I didn't offend you earlier," I said, taking a light sip.

"You didn't. I'm just not always willing to talk when the subjects of fathers come up."

"Was this about what happened when your brother brought him up at dinner?"

Paddy downed his shot in one gulp. "Any story involving my Pa ain't a good one. I just didn't want you to pity me in a room full of people, even if it was family."

"What happened between you two?"

"It ain't a story meant for women's ears."

"Paddy, I'm not going to judge you if you need someone to talk to. I've honestly never told anyone that I attempted to meet my father, not even my mother. If I could trust you with that you can trust me with whatever is on your mind."

Paddy shifted in his spot, took a deep breath and met his gaze to mine.

"Truth is, at dinner, Bellamy wasn't honest that ain't much that don't embarrass me. My father was a mean drunk. He beat the shit out of all of us, but he always saved a special case of it for me. Remember when I told you how scary it was overseas?" he said, waiting on my nod as a sign to go on.

"Well, war didn't have shite on my Pa. At least over there, I couldn't predict my environment. But I could always predict Pa's. Sometimes I get the shakes just thinking about how he bad he beat me. One time, he was so mad, he pushed me down a flight of stairs. I was convinced if he didn't kill me, I was going to do it myself. Might have been a kid's worst nightmare in the neighborhood, but my Pa always humbled his kids to into submission. Honestly, getting drafted was the only thing that saved me. I might have inherited a new set of problems, but at least I wasn't his punching bag anymore."

That was all so hard to hear. Paddy was one of the strongest men I had ever met. I was sure if you looked up masculine in the dictionary, his picture would be right underneath. To know there was someone who'd put so much fear in him made me sad, somehow.

"I'm sorry?—"

"What are you fucking sorry for? You didn't do all that stuff to me. And I didn't share that for you to fucking pity me. I learned a long time ago that we don't always have the rhyme or reason for why people do things, but I do have control over how I feel about it afterwards. I chose to let him go once he went six feet under. That's all you can do."

"There can't be a single good reason to put a hand on your kids like that." Even when Elijah was rowdy, it was never my first thought to hit him. It's probably why he wasn't as aggressive as other boys.

"Well, I can't speak for my brothers, but there was doubt."

"I don't understand," I said, unsure of what he'd meant.

"Before my Pa died, he told me I might not be his. Said he gave it to me harder to make me strong, but he was probably just punishing me. Or better yet, punishing my mother. My siblings don't know—hell— I would have rather not known. I was raised a Sullivan my whole life. I ain't never known another way. I know I'm fucked up because of it. There's a lot of darkness in me I can tie to it. But he was who raised me." He shamefully admitted.

"All I see is a good man when I see you," I said to reassure him.

"Pretty, ain't no such thing as a good man. But all men make the conscious decision whether to treat you right or not. Your father didn't treat you right. Your husband doesn't treat you right. You gotta break the habit of being with men who don't treat you right."

"That's easy for you to say. You're like a walking vestige of potential. Handsome, young , no kids. Never been married. It's not easy starting over when you're my age," I confessed, nursing another shot.

"Honestly, Pretty, you're probably the first woman who made me feel sorry for my mother. When I learned the truth, I fucking hated her for dooming me to a life of pain. But now I wonder if Pa was just sucking the life out of her. You're too fucking beautiful to be wasting your tears over someone who doesn't see you."

"I'm sure you tell that to all the old maids," I joked.

"How old do you think I am?" He asked after rolling his eyes.

I squinted. "I'm not so good at guessing," I admitted.

"I'm twenty-eight." He smirked.

"Wow. That's still young, but I thought that you would be younger."

"It's the smile," he flirted.

" Actually , it's the eyes. I've honestly been meaning to ask you about that, but I wasn't sure if it would offend you." It would never not be noticeable that Paddy's eyes, one in particular, were different colors.

"Well, I don't really got a word for it, but apparently it's normal. I sure as hell got hell for it. Growing up, since it's half blue and half brown, kids would joke that I must have shite in my eye or something. Then I'd whooped their arse and never hear it again."

"They just intensify every expression that you make," I blushed.

"Before we're off the subject, you never told me your age," Paddy inquired.

"A woman never tells."

"Bullshite. You can't be a day over thirty."

"Actually, I'm thirty-eight," I admitted, embarrassed, even though I wasn't sure why.

"That just means you age like fine wine," as he reached over me, and I thought he had planned to kiss me, only he reached in for more rum.

"Plus, you wouldn't be nearly as talented without the years. I'd never even heard you play before today. You were really something."

Soon after, it wasn't long before he was coaxing me to play for him again. Bringing the bottle of rum, we made our way to my practice room, as Paddy joined me on the lounge. "Teach me something."

"Are you musical?" I laughed.

"No, but that's what you're here for," he teased. Tracing my fingers on top of his, I guided them along the keys. It wasn't very pleasant sounding, but what it had been was entertaining. When he's insisted I just play, it wouldn't be long before I'd get in rhythm, and he'd throw me off by creeping his fingers across mine.

He had strong hands. When he took me shooting, I'd already known that to be true, but this was my domain, so strangely, it felt more intimate. "If you stop, I'll sing something for you."

At that comment, he seemed to behave, as he stopped and let me work my magic. Ad-libbing an unfinished piece, I tested its sound out on him, as he patiently watched in silence until I was done.

"Look at you. A regular little nightingale. A voice like that could make a lad fall in love like the sirens that lure men at sea."

"Again, I'm sure you say that to all the old maids."

"Stop it with the age thing. None of that really matters when you walk around looking like you."

"You should have seen me when I was your age. Had that tight, perfect little body," I admitted, as I reminisced about the past.

"Ain't no such thing," Paddy argued.

"To men, there is," I acknowledged. "My husband hasn't touched me since I had Elijah. I'm convinced he never will, even if I lost the baby weight. What I wouldn't give to go back to that. Now I'm just a lot to miss."

"Well, I like that you're a lot to miss. And I don't got to be your age to appreciate it. I don't know a lot of people walking around with a name like Pretty, but I reckon none of them live up to it like you do." He had to be joking. He couldn't really mean that.

"You say that, but you probably wouldn't be able to handle me," I joked.

"The question shouldn't be whether I can handle someone like you. The question should be whether you can handle someone like me." Paddy's eyes bore into me like he planned to do something about it.

I don't know what came over me, but it being so long since I felt something that wasn't pain, stress or grief. His words. My attraction to him. The fact that he made me feel good at every turn. Overcome with lust, I leaned in, kissed him and had never felt more alive.