Page 95 of Dirty Padraig: Dirty Dusters

The little graveyard is full now, but the O’Connells have bought a substantial plot at the rear of the church, where each now holds our own invisible grave marker.

Is it morbid that it gives me a sense of peace knowing I’ve picked out exactly where I’ll be laid to rest?

Maybe it is for some. I’m an organized person, so to me, it makes perfect sense when the only thing we’re ever guaranteed in this life is death.

It's dark. Frigid. I watch my breath as it curls in the night air, smiling when its white trail is dispersed by the bats as they flit around my head.

Making my way to the door, I turn the circular metal handle before pushing it forward. It’s always unlocked. No one in their right mind would ever dare disturb this place. This church may be the house of The Lord, but after him, it belongs to the Dusters. It belongs to me.

Anyone who harms it would feel my wrath.

The lights are on. The workers must have forgotten to switch them off. My eyes immediately take in the familiar vaulted ceilings and the ancient wooden pews, most of which I’ve carved my initials under.

I smile to myself. If old Father O’Reilly knew about that, I’d get a clip around the ear, even at the grand old age of thirty-one, and even if he does know precisely what atrocities I’m capable of considering how often I have to spill my guts to him.

I make my way to the front pew. It’s the one where the family sits, or at least those of us who attend. Ma and Da would never miss a Sunday sermon unless they were ill, and my brothers and I have been brought up much the same.

If we pretended to be sick when we were younger, we’d have just earned ourselves a boot up the backside from Da. As we got older, it was easier to turn up rather than be on the receiving end of a lengthy lecture.

According to Ma, The Almighty has all-seeing eyes. I pray every day that he closes them whenever I’m on the wet work.

I’m told Jaine never attends church. Is it because of the security risk, or is it because she’s an atheist? Maybe she thinks her soul’s already condemned, so what’s the point in asking for forgiveness?

I like to think that the people we issue the outlaw red card to are deserving of it. That we’re ridding the world of the types that would never make it to the promised land anyway. That we’re doing our bit to keep the population level down so the world can be filled with the great and the good rather than the insignificant and the bad.

It’s each to their own when it comes to religion. I have my faith. Others have theirs. Live and let live is my approach. If it gives you something to cling to and gets you through each day in one piece, then that’s good enough for me.

I have faith in the power of prayer. I used to have it in the power of love, too, but look where that got me.

Nowhere.

I sit in my own spot, even though I have the entire row to myself, and then I bow my head and pray for her.

My Jaine Jones

I hear my sob echo, then the next one, and the next. Pain. Anguish. Regret. Anger. Repeat.

Why me? Why her? Why us?

I’d have given up everything for her. Iwouldgive up everything for her. Why can’t my everything have been enough?

Because you decided hers wasn’t. If she had been enough, you would never have cheated on her.

And there he is. Even in this place of worship, the devil is on my shoulder, telling me the reason why she and I will never be.

It’s all your own fault, Paddy.

I wipe the tears from my cheeks and sit upright, breathing in deeply before exhaling.

“Where are you, Jaine? Give me a fucking sign, darlin’.” I whisper the words aloud, and then I sit there. Drowning in tears, memories, and regrets.

I’m unsure how long passes before I stand and slowly approach the ancient doors. The moment my hand makes contact with the cold metal, I feel the pull. The connection I tried so hard to bury is making itself known. Why now? It’s like she’s suddenly here with me.

I inhale, then exhale on a shaky breath.

Don’t be daft, Padraig.

I push the door, and it pushes back against me until, finally, it relents and lets me out. Standing outside, I suck the night air deep into my lungs before walking. I stop in my tracks.

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