(To Connor McManus)
Connor paused in the doorway, watching the way her dark hair moved around her shoulders. �Melissa?�
She glanced up from the sinkful of dishes. �Yes, Con?�
�Gonna pop down to the bar for a bit with Murphy.�
�All right.� She went back to scrubbing the plate in her hands. �Invite him to dinner on Friday, he hasn�t been around in a bit.�
He slipped up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, gently kissing her hair. �I�ll do that. We won�t be out too late.�
�Have fun.� His wife smiled over her shoulder at him as he headed for the door. �Careful not to wake Molly when you come in.�
***
�Here y�are, lads, take your minds off your troubles.� The waitress set their beer steins down on the table and sauntered away without waiting for a reply. Murphy chuckled and shook his head.
�Troubles, what troubles?� He lifted his glass in an ironic toast. �Here�s to Connor, the man with no troubles.�
�Aye, none at all,� Con replied, rolling his eyes. �Just haven�t slept in a fuckin� week with a sick baby- �
�She all right?� Murph sat up a bit, brow furrowed in concern.
�Oh, aye, she�s better now, she�s fine,� he said quickly, making a vague gesture with his cigarette. �But now there�s a doctor�s bill t�worry about�� He rubbed his forehead wearily. �Worth every dime, a�course, no question, but still, fuck, the doctors�ll rob you blind.�
� �Slong as the angel�s all right,� Murph sighed, rolling his glass between his palms. �Christ be with her.�
�She misses her Uncle Murph,� Connor said, face slowly blossoming into a grin. �Doesn�t have a thing to do with the candy he always brings her, either. It�s the charming company.�
�Of course it is,� grinned his brother. �Nice contrast to her dour old da.�
�Oh, shut up, just because I�m too tired to smack you,� said Connor, draining his glass and setting it at the table�s edge. �Melissa wants you to come to dinner Friday, by the by.�
�Kind of her,� said Murphy, finishing off his own glass. �Of course I�ll come.�
�Good,� Con nodded, glancing around the bar. �Why do we come here, anyway? Beer�s not that good and the service is worse.�
Murph shrugged. �Closest to home since the Russians closed down Doc�s.�
�Closer to your home, maybe,� Con said absently, rubbing his hand against his forehead. �Christ, I still can�t believe they could just get away with that.�
�Can�t stop the mob,� said Murph, catching the waitress�s eye and raising his empty glass theatrically. �What the fuck?� he muttered under his breath as she nodded and walked away without a trace of hurry. �Can�t stop the shit they do...happens every fucking day.�
�It does that,� sighed Connor, leaning back in his seat and closing his eyes. �Saw the cops dragging a guy off the corner on my way to work this morning, and he was right back there on the way home tonight.�
�Aye,� nodded Murphy. �It�s a disgrace.�
Con stared up at the ceiling. �Kid next door came home with a gun yesterday. Think he�s gone to work for Yakavetta.�
�Thank ya kindly, miss, don�t strain yourself workin�,� Murph snapped at the waitress as he grabbed the glasses from her hands. �Fuck.� He looked over at Connor. �Serious?� he said, eyebrows arching. �Thought you�d moved out past that shit.�
�No such place,� Connor snorted, sitting forward again. �It�s fuckin� everywhere, all of it�Melissa was hysterical the other day, came home from the store and saw some kid selling drugs on the corner not ten feet from our door. Insisting we had to move again�� He took a sip of his beer and shook his head. �We just can�t fuckin� afford it.�
�Someone oughta do something,� Murph said, staring down at the table.
�Somebody oughta, but nobody does.�
Murphy smiled suddenly, reaching out to lightly touch the tattoo on Connor�s hand, then the one on his own. �Hey, remember when we got these? Truth and justice�we thought we were gonna change the world.�
�How could I forget?� Connor asked, finding himself smiling as well. �Drunkest I�ve ever been.�
�We still could, y�know,� Murph said, still staring at their hands on the shiny dark surface. �Get out there, kill off all the evil-doin� bastards. Change the world, clean it up a bit.�
Connor was silent for a moment, thinking about it. Having a purpose, a mission�ridding the world of the evil that choked his throat and drove him mad inside every time he heard about it. Dealing out truth and justice and God�s law to all the filth out there�
He blinked. �I�d better get home, Murph. Got an early day in the morning.�
His brother�s shoulders slumped just a bit. �Aye.� He finished off his beer. �You coming to the plant tomorrow?�
�Yeah, I�ve got a shift there between two shifts driving truck,� sighed Connor, shrugging his coat back on. �Gotta be at the garage at four-thirty in the bloody AM��
�Maybe you should take a day off, get some rest,� Murph suggested, tilting his head to the side and studying his brother with real concern. �Y�look awfully tired, Con.�
�Yeah, well, bills don�t pay themselves,� he muttered, tossing some money down on the table and frowning at his brother when he scooped it up and handed it back.
�I�ve got this,� Murph said calmly, reaching for his own wallet. �Don�t worry about it, you�ve got enough on your mind.�
�Oh, saint Murph, thanks,� Con said mockingly, then relented. �Well, if you insist, then.�
�After all, I�m sponging dinner off you on Friday,� his twin reminded him with a bright smile.
They laughed together as they walked out into the street and paused to light their cigarettes in the mirror-image motion that always made Melissa laugh. �How are you doing, Murph, seriously?� Connor asked, squinting up at where the stars should be. �Need anything, need money?�
�Oh, aye, like I could ask you for that after all your pissin� and moanin� in there,� Murph said, kicking at a chip in the pavement. He smiled to take the sting out of his words. �Nah, I�m doin� all right. Single man doesn�t need much money, just a song in his heart.�
�And Christ knows you�ve got that,� chuckled Connor, balancing the arches of his feet on the edge of the curb and bouncing lightly.
�Don�t you worry about Murphy,� his brother said, tapping his own chest with a devilish grin. �I can take care of myself well and proper.�
�You do seem to have a certain skill at it.� Connor ran his free hand through his hair. �Well, you know where to go if you ever are in need.�
�Aye, straight to the gates of the church or Hades,� laughed Murph, dancing away from the punch his brother aimed at him.
�I�m serious now, you know I�m always there for you,� Connor said, laughing despite himself as Murph spun and dodged like a boxer.
�I know it,� he replied, throwing an arm over Con�s shoulder. �How could I ever forget?�
***
Connor closed the door behind him with an extra-gentle hand, willing it not to squeak. He kicked his boots aside and hung up his jacket, checking the lock a second time before slipping through the tiny living room into the tinier bedroom.
Melissa was fast asleep, her hand reaching out across the empty sheet like she was searching for him. He watched her for a moment, still as awed by how beautiful she was as he�d been the first time he saw her. He�d lost his heart and never had a prayer of getting it back.
That had happened one other time in his life, losing his heart in a single look.
He walked over to the crib in the corner and looked down at his baby girl. Molly was curled on her side, mouth falling open in sleep as babies tended to do. He watched her slow, steady breathing, stunned by how much love he could feel for one tiny person. Stunned by the miracles God could produce.
His eyes moved to his hand, resting on the crib rail. �Veritas,� it proclaimed in stark black ink. They�d thought they could change the world, once.
Something inside him, far down deep, ached to leave the house again, run over to Murphy�s, shout that fuck yes, they should do it, they should take out all the scum and filth of the world in a hail of God�s own justice. Go from this life of ordered sameness and Friday-night dinners and two-job exhaustion to something that blazed with holy truth. Go off on a glorious mission, never return to this prisoner�s life...
But.
It was a prison he�d built for himself, out of love and devotion. And the chains that held him here were velvet and silk, not steel.
He reached out to gently touch his baby�s soft dark curls. He remembered being the fatherless child, back home in Ireland. He remembered always wondering if his da had left for the reason Ma said he did- because he had to go- or if he just didn�t love his two sons enough to stay. He remembered tears and fistfights and an aching feeling of being alone, even with a twin by his side. He remembered Ma growing hard and angry and old before her time.
�Don�t you worry, angel-girl,� he whispered, brushing his hand against her face. �I�ll never walk out that door on you.�
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