Three Generations

An Irish family living in Boston in the early 1900s. Many people have commented about the lack of quotation marks, there isn't supposed to be any because it's in James Joyce's Style and he used none but instead he used a dash mark.

    Mrs. Flaherty toiled day in and day out a the side of an elderly seamstress Mrs. Brady and when she came home she worked for hours cooking for her husband Patrick and her four daughters. Her eldest, Siobhan, often labored at her side singing a lively tune or talking about Connor Celeigh, the boy who lived with his mother on the second floor. It was no secret their fancy for one another but Patrick Flaherty would have no courting in his household till Siobhan was at least twenty, fearing her loss of innocence to the delusions of love from a 'suspect boy.'
    The days remained quiet and calm and dinner was often filled with idle chatter until the early evening hours when Mrs. Flaherty's mother, Mrs. Brigid Monhan, would come up for a cup of tea. Patrick usually made himself scarce, never staying for more than small pleasantries. If the night was warm the girls went outside to play with the neighborhood children and Siobhan would sneak down the stairs to meet with Connor. Mrs. Brigid Monhan was a large woman with a befitting personality. Her grip was strong and her eyes pierced all she spoke with drawing out the most confident person's weaknesses. No one withstood the scrutiny of Mrs. Brigid Monhan and no one could meet her Catholic standards.
    - Patrick never seems to be 'round nights. I suppose he's out drinkin', spendin' all the saving' on the devil's drink. I always said he was a no good ruffian of sorts, he's spoilin' the family name. Me mother would be rollin' in her grave if she could see the world today, the way Siobhan runs 'round all hours of the night to be with that boy. Mrs. Flaherty shifted uncomfortably sinking lower in her seat by the fire. Her mother's overbearing nature often became a source of dissent between her husband and herself. Her husband was right of course, her mother was sour but there was nothing she could do, she was a daughter and that bound her to respect her mother for raising her and putting a roof over her head for most of her life.
    -He's not out drinkin' mother, he goes out for walks this time of night, it keeps his health steady an' I'm sure Siobhan does no different than you and Papa did before you were married. They're young, let them be that way before the world rips it right off their backs. Brigid glared at her only daughter disapproval puckering her already plump features.
    -I did nothin' of the like. I met with your father only in the company of adults. Here in America there's no decency, no sense of religious chastity. Siobhan's strayin' like these here harlot girls. She shoulda been sent to Galway with your Aunt Caitleen to teach her the proper Chrisian way. I say send her to a convent and protect her from that boy, it's the only way to keep them girls away from drunkards like your here husband.
    Mrs. Flaherty sipped her tea ignoring her mother, watching the grandfather clock's hand tick by one second at a time. It seemed eight-thirty was a forever away instead of a mere five minutes. Mrs. Brigid Monahan was a stickler for routine and moral rightness, every night at precisely eight-thirty she descended the two landings to her first floor apartment washed away the sins of the day and spent the evening praying for her soul's salvation from the flaming pits of hell. Only at eight-thirty would the verbal chastisings cease.
    -Did you hear Ashley Cunningham's daughter married a Protestant last week? It's a shame really, they came from a decent family now poor old Morgan can never show her face in church again, Ashley's gone and disgraced them she has. I hear Morgan's not recognizin' the marriage because it wasn't performed in a Catholic church. At least she has some decency left, not that it'll do her much good. I assume the young lass got herself in some trouble and had no other choice but to marry the lad. Do you see what I mean about these American girls?
    Mrs. Flaherty eyed her mother as she spoke, there were no reminants of her once youthful beauty, all that remained was a cold look of a woman who is unhappy with herself and blames the world for her own misfortunes. That was the way most of the older immigrants from Ireland turned out. Resenting their native home for abandoning them in their time of need and hating their new home because it took them away from their native land.
    As a child Mrs. Flaherty remembered her mother as a kind woman always humming some fast paced jig or pulling a prank of the nearby neighbors but all that had ended when Ryan Monahan decided they should move to America. The family had fallen on hard times and he thought they had a better chance in America at making some decent money. They moved to Boston where Ryan Monahan found work as a steel worker and her mother went to clean the houses of the rich up on Beacon Hill. Two of Mrs. Flaherty's older brothers by that time were already married with children and chose to remain in their native land of the once glorious emerald fields. On her nineteenth birthday Mrs. Flaherty married Patrick Flaherty, a young man from a small town on the outskirts of Galway much to her mother's displeasure. Mrs. Flaherty and Patrick moved into a three family home on East 5th Street and brought along her mother and father to live on the first floor for no rent. Soon after Mrs. Flaherty gave birth to her first child and a year later filled the house with a set of triplets. Never once had her mother approved of anything she had done and it continued on to the way in which she raised her children.
    Patrick was a patient man not prone to violent outbursts of yelling or hitting but throughout their nineteen years of marriage he had constantly fought with her mother and quickly learned to disappear when she came up for her evening tea. For nineteen years they had lived like this and she often wondered how her father dealt so calmly with her mother.
    -Well it's 8:30, I should be on my way. You get those children in here, they have no business being out alone this late. And mind you find Siobhan, that girl will end up in the burning flames if you're not careful. I tell you that American boy is no good.
    -He's Irish mother. Caite came her from Cork when she was pregnant.
    -He was born here, he's not Irish. And I tell you he can't be any good, he had no father to raise him right. Well I must be off, mind you get those children off to bed as soon as possible.

    Brigid descended the flight of stairs listening closely to the sound of giggling coming from the landing directly below her. Tip toeing the rest of the way down she spied Connor leaning against the wall, his other hand running through Siobhan's copper curls. That boy was no good, there was too much lust in Americans, no religious decency or respect for a girl's innocence.
    -Siobhan you go up stairs this instant!
    The young pair leaped apart, startled by Brigid's cold, commanding voice.
    -I'm sorry Mrs. Monahan, I meant no disrespect. Siobhan and I were just talkin' is all.
    Connor's cheeks slowly turned a redish hue from Brigid's unyielding gaze but he managed to draw himself up staring directly back into her piercing blue eyes.
    -You are nothin' but a no good young man, you're neither to speak nor even look at Siobhan again is that clear?
    Siobhan jumped in front of Connor, her hands extended plaintively towards her grandmother,
    -We were't doin' nuthin' wrong I swear it! He's a good man, he'd never do nuthin' to ruin my good name or character nor yours nana. Brigid snorted in disgust shaking her head in a manner resembling her closely to an angry bull ready to charge it's enemy.
    -There's no such thing as a good American boy. Now you listen to me and you listen good, you're not to have contact with this boy ever again you hear me? If you do I'll have you shipped on the fastest boat to the harshest Irish Convent if that's what it takes. Connor sidestepped Siobhan's delicate frame drawing himself up to his full height leaning in till he was barely inches from her blotchy nose.
    -Never once have I done nuthin' to harm or blemish Siobhan's innocence, nor do I ever intend to spoil her name or character. I love her and there is nuthin' you can do to take that away from me. Whether or not you believe me to be a decent fellow has nuthin' to do with anything. What upsets me is the little confidence you have in your own granddaughter's decency. She is a good woman, one of the best and she deserves if not your love then your respect.
    From behind the three came a deep laughter startling Brigid more than the children who stood stiff backed against the wall.
    -Well I do say boy I owe you a drink. I do believe you are the only person who has ever spoken to her in such a condescendin' manner. Yes, yes I do say I owe you a fine drink at that.
    Brigid stood rigid, fuming at her son-in-law's blatant slight at her expense.
    -Why you little ingrate! After everythin' I have done for you and Colleen this is how you repay me? Like this? This disrespectfulness? You shall burn in hell for your lack of decency and respect to your elders and your daughter shall fall from grace and disgrace the name of this family! Spittle flew from the gap between Mrs. Brigid Monahan's mouth but Patrick shook his head unphased by her temper. Chuckling, Patrick once again shaking his head looped one arm around the neck of his eldest daughter and layed the other one firmly around the neck of Connor and lef them down the hall, up the stairs to the kitchen for a fine drink relishing the stricken look on Mrs. Brigid Monahan's face.

Author's Note

My spelling is horrid, I know there are mistakes feel free to point them out to me.
This was inspired by an assignment I had to imitate Jame's Joyce's style in his collection of short stories "The Dubliners." I used the family dynamics of my family during this period of time after they had immigrated from Galway to South Boston and moved in to a 3 family on East 5th Street. The old culture trying to meld with the new.

Reviews

[An Ordinary Woman]

I really enjoyed this, Brette.

I can only imagine what it was like for your family. Being a mom myself, I worry too and can understand Brigid's way of thinking but realize that isn't how the world views things. It seems she was into caring how the family looked to others more than how her family might have felt. I was glad when her son in-law walked up, that was great. And also, your spelling wasn't "horrid," in fact I didn't see any errors or typos at all. :+))

You have a great story here, very engaging!

[George Love]

Formatting would help it be a bit easier to read, the story is good and the characters developed well in the short time span. Nice work.

[Damian Alan Gray]

First and foremost, this is a great story and it's told very well. Also, the character development is well done in the short expanse of the work. My only critique is in the formatting. Quotation marks would help with the readability of the story because it otherwise detracts from the flow.

[BrightEyes]

oh I love when cranky old biddies get their due! Loved that he turned the tables on the old woman - and in so doing ingratiated himself with Patrick. Without the quotes - the dialogue was slightly hard to follow - I realize they were more like monlogues almost, which is accurate I think. nice job.

laura

[The Rock And Roll Cowbo..]

Excellent story telling Brette... nothing like a good family story, your writing is precise as I could picture the scenes being played out and could feel emotions toward the charcters.

[lilain]

This is so great! I couldn't help but smile when Connor stood up to the crotchity old woman, even better was Patrick's proud resposne. Haha! Coming from an Irish/Italian family, I know well the differences and moral dilemnas which can arise.

You know, this reminds me of Brighton Beach Memoirs. Have you seen it? It deals with the same old world issues in NYC - it was what came to mind when I read your story.

Good job and thanks for sharing!

Cheers,
lilain

[wizthom]

i only see the vision u wish to show,,and it was good clear.peace wizthom

[DarkIriswriter]

This sounds like A historical peice, I could picture the family in this time period. You placed vivid details in the story that makes it worth reading.Great job blending the modern vocabulary with the language in the story.Other than the many typos things are great in your story.

Sara

This is good. I could picture all the characters as I read. I loved how it just flowed! Great story about family.