Page 339 of Well Played

“Liam McCann.”

The string of strong and colorful words erupting over the phone by Oonagh made Maeve blush, just before she started laughing at her reaction.

“What the feck! How in the hell is that two faced wanker involved?! Please tell me you followed him into the bathroom and switch blade his bollocks! I can’t even fecking believe it!”

Leave it to Oonagh to always have a very direct and colorful vocabulary to say the right words to make it known how you should always feel in these unexpected and unfortunate situations. She always gave Maeve some much needed levity to process any predicament.

“Maeve, this situation calls for more than music, and more than a couple of pints to tackle this. It requires something harder, with endless rounds of comfort snacks. Hell, since we’re just down the road from the Fairy Glen, we need to make a stop to ask for divine intervention! Wasn’t Liam’s Granny–God bless her Irish heart–a believer in the power of the fairies? I remember her Celtic History and Story hours in primary school.”

Signaling before pulling off to the side of the highway, she stopped her car, shifting it into park to avoid an accident. She couldn’t stop laughing as tears of hilarity streamed down her face. After a few moments, she hiccupped, snagging her breath,before wiping away tears from her eyes. Her self-control back, she continued her conversation with Oonagh.

“Yes, Granny McCann was a very avid believer in the fairies and all the stories in Irish Mythology; she was our favorite teacher in school. In fact, my Mum sees her regularly at church, not too far from the care home she is living in Newry. Mum says she even has a regular volunteer gig in her retirement, still working with a few primary schools to pass on the stories and Irish culture. Besides, I don’t think she would take kindly to us asking the little people to curse Liam, he was one of her favorite wee grands you know.”

“Well, it was just a suggestion, since we will be in central fairy territory. Anyway … what time do you think you can meet me at The Old Killowen?”

“8:00? I need to stop off at the office to drop off a few things before I can get home to change.”

“Works perfect. I’ll save a seat.”

Stabbinga sausage roll from one of the snack plates and placing it in her mouth to chew, Maeve still wasn’t sure how she could handle working with Liam over the next few weeks. If anything, she was more confused than ever, realizing in the last hour of commiserating to Oonagh, she had slowly started to side with her relationship nemesis. Maybe it was the two pints of Guinness and the double shot of Jamison’s she’d consumed that were making her imagine things.

“Maeve, think about it logically for a moment,” Oonagh commented, using the chip she had just dipped into ketchup as a pointer to drive her point home. “From what you’ve told me, he wants a truce. I think and feel deep down he wants to makeamends. So why not hear him out–bring closure to this part of your past that’s been keeping you from moving on?”

“What are you insinuating? I’m moving, I mean have moved on.”

“Have you … really?”

“Excuse me, but this from the woman who earlier went off about how I should have followed him into the bathroom and cut his bollocks off? What suddenly has happened that you are changing your mind? What did I miss?”

“I know Liam as well as you do; hell, we were all thick as thieves growing up. I wouldn’t be surprised if neither of you ever stopped loving each other and if both of you are too stubborn to realize it.”

Picking up a crisp, Maeve threw it at Oonagh.

“Did I hit a nerve? Maeve, I love you to death, but sometimes the gobshite you spout to cover up what is really going on in your brain and heart is completely ridiculous. Liam will not put you in any kind of embarrassing situation while you’re working together. If you both allowed each other a bit of forgiveness, would that be so bad?”

Folding her arms across her chest, Maeve slumped back in her chair, giving herself a moment to let Oonagh’s words sink in.

“Maybe there is some truth to what you are saying. I can only try to hear him out if it comes up while we are working together. If anything, we both need to understand what happened. I’ll try to keep an open mind.”

“Enough, to the bar! Both Maeve and Oonagh grabbed the fresh pints and both holding them aloft. Smiling, Maeve spoke.

“Thank you for being here when I need someone most who really understands me. Where would I be without you giving me a push and a good kick in the arse when I need a reality check?”

“Having to ask your Mum for help?”

“Now we both know that would be a grand bit of sunshine …”

Laughing in unison, Maeve and Oonagh knocked their pint glasses together, shouting over the chattering pub patron singing along to the band playing Seven Drunken Nights …

“Slainte!”

4

Parkingher car at the edge of a practice field in Newry, Maeve finished locking up before walking back to her car to collect her equipment bag which was always close at hand in the boot. The sound of twenty giggling girls, all between the ages of six and eight, reached her, making her smile at the enthusiasm they released, running around like banshees yelling out each other’s names to get a chance at controlling the miraculous football. This Saturday morning ritual was now the highlight of her week, allowing her to continue her passion for Irish sports; remembering how she had learned football at their ages.

Dropping the equipment bag on the sidelines, she opened it, pulling out her referee whistle, hanging it around her neck. Maeve remained a firm and dedicated supporter in the Down GAA’s mission of keeping Irish culture alive through sports, even before they employed her. It had been a no-brainer on returning home from the United States that she made sure she remained involved as much as possible, volunteering with her favorite sport.

She gained a certain amount of personal fulfillment by helping to expose, teach, and mentor young girls about sportsmanship and working as a team to achieve their goals- something women in the past were not encouraged to do, especially in playing competitive sports. Even today, there were still many places around the world still hanging on to the ridiculous stereotypes and misogynistic rules of how women should act or what they could do physically. Maeve was proud that both her mum, gran, her great gran and even her father had taught her that girls could do everything the lads could; everyone was equal, even in the field of sports.

---