Page 25 of Paddy

Sleeping with us didn't mean the same as being attracted to. Being with Black men just felt safer because I had never had to consider what it would look like to be out in public with a man until now.

I’m ashamed to admit that evenIcouldn't help but stare at times, wondering how or why a person would want to be with someone outside their race. But if my mother hadn't taken that chance, I wouldn't be here.

“What's a spukie?? At my question, his animated eyes widened in disbelief.

“You don't know what a spukie is? I'm gonna need to see your birth certificate, because ain't no way you're from Boston,” he teased.

“From your accent, I take it you're not either.” As a short exchange with a staff member came and went, as Mr. Sullivan ordered for us.

“Lived here most of my life. I got some good memories of Cork, but it don't really feel like home anymore,” he admitted. I wasn’t familiar with cities outside of Dublin, so to hear him speak about his place of birth was interesting.

“What about you?”

It was hard to simmer down all the places that I had lived until Back Bay became my permanent home. “Well, I've lived in Boston most of my life, but once my mom saw I caught the music bug, she sent me to go live in New York where I could nurse my talents.”

“Well, that was wise of her.”

“I could have gone to Juilliard too, but once I got into show business, it seemed like I was putting off the one thing I was already doing,” I proudly admitted.

“Come to think of it, I don't think I've ever heard you play.”

“Oh, come on, Mr. Sullivan. You admitting that you’ve never seenanyof my pictures?”

“I haven't. But honestly, I think a character on the screen wouldn't do you much justice. When it comes to you, I kind of prefer the real thing.” Did he really just say that? Or was I thinking too much into it?

“I saw some good race films overseas. Sometimes that's all you got for morale in war. I was never lucky enough to see a live performance or anything.” he admitted.

“What was it like overseas? Would you do it again? Is it really as bad as they say?” Anxious and unsure of which question I wanted answered first.

“Well, whatever you heard, imagine that and amplify it by a thousand. Nothing can really prepare you for what it takes to survive in that environment. I don't know if I even feel comfortable sharing this with a lass because some stuff just ain't for women's ears.”

“Well, whatarefor my ears?” I challenged.

“On a battlefield, you gotta be a different person. Basically, a monster, for lack of better words. The stuff I've had to do, that kind of shit changes you forever. There honestly, ain't no humane way to kill a man in times like that. Feels like I've lived three lifetimes in the span of a year and a half. I probably wouldn't even be here had it not been for my mate, Moore.”

From Mr. Sullivan's account, while he’d had brothers, the army forced you to bond in different ways, something he claimed was almost as strong as the bond he had with his birth siblings. I didn't have siblings, so I didn't know what kind of bond that was like, and in my industry, it was just as hard to make friends. Being a Black woman with an exceptional skill level made a lot of entertainers envious that my talent had put me in that space.

“Was he an Irishman like you?”

“Honestly? He’s a Black man. But over there, you couldn't afford to see color. My Pa didn't raise me the best when it came to race, but he ain't never served shit but himself. And the first army mate that stabbed me in the back was an Irishman. So, I don't care about all that race stuff. I just care if you're a good person, and Moore was the best of them. We had our issues at times, but I'd give my life for that man in a heartbeat,” he admitted in one breath.

I’d never thought of Mr. Sullivan to have friends of a different race, so I was curious to where their challenges in the friendship lie. “What were your issues? If you don't mind me asking.”

Mr. Sullivan grew quiet, and I would have respected if, like many of the other things, he hadn't planned on sharing.

“The first time I was alone with him, he tried to kiss me. I ain't got nothing against what people do in private, but I'm not into that. Honestly, it was my first instinct to fucking beat him like he stole something. But that's how my father would have dealt with the problem, and I ain't beating up no Black man just because he's got a fucking school girl crush.”

“So, what did you do?”

“I told him never do that shit again. Toanybody. Because if he did it to the wrong person, I was sure they'd fucking kill him. We never talked about it again until I woke up in the medic base after he carried me three miles on his shoulder. When I asked him why he didn't leave me, he said, I'd save his life by not telling anybody what he did. So, he felt like he was just returning the favor.”

Mr. Sullivan had experienced far beyond what most experienced in a lifetime. It explained his wisdom, maturity and made him come off as more than your average gangster. I’d surely miss sharing his company when his services were no longer needed. With my husband gone so much, it was nice having a competent adult around for once.

“Anyway, I don't want to bore you with my war stories?—”

“You could never bore me,” I said, without thinking. Luckily, our food came to dissolve some of the residual embarrassment

“Oh, so a spukie is a hero?”

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