Bold Fenian Men
Chapter Eleven
"I don’t know, Roisin." Padraig sighed and looked into the soft brown eyes of the young bar girl facing him. They were the same colour as Gearoid's and Padraig felt a twang of pain at the sight of them. He looked away, a lump in his throat.
"There was nothing you could have done, Padraig." Roisin had had this conversation many times before with Padraig. Gearoid hadn't been the only one who'd got in between Padraig and a UVF man's bullet, and paid the ultimate price for it.
"There was, Roisin, God, there was!" Padraig cried. "Why didn’t I just shoot the guy who had him? I'm so! Fucking! Stupid!" Padraig hit he bar in between every one of the last three words.
"Calm down, Padraig, please," Roisin begged softly, taking his hands in hers and stroking them.
"I'm so stupid … he never said that he'd let Gearoid go if I put the gun down … and I fucking fell for it like the idiot I am! And then he just … and he blew his brains out right there … eighteen years old, he was, and they blew his brains out, and it was all because of me!"
"Padraig, you'd never have gotten away with it, would you? If you had raised your gun he'd have got you before you'd had a chance to fire a shot. We need you, Padraig. Every Republican in this country needs you."
Padraig downed his drink in one, and then looked up a Roisin again, his eyes slightly unfocused.
"I am fed up of being told that," he slurred. "I am fed up of people thinking it's OK for others to die because I'm supposedly the best thing that's happened to the IRA since Padraig Pearse or Michael Collins or whoever I'm being compared to these days. I ain't no Michael Collins. I'm Padraig Caraher, and I'm the only person in this whole city that had more deaths to my name than anyone else. Why can’t they just let me get shot?"
"Padraig, you don't mean that." Roisin said softly. "You're amazing Volunteer. Everyone makes mistakes, Padraig."
"I've made too many. There was Gearoid the other day, and before that Sean and Tomas, and then away before that they grabbed Proinsias off the street and they beat him and they tortured him but he wouldn't say where I was so they shot him and left him in an alley somewhere. And its ALL MY FUCKING FAULT!' Padraig stood up shakily and looked at Roisin again. 'I can’t do it anymore. I'm fed up of this."
"There was nothing you could have done, Padraig." Roisin had had this conversation many times before with Padraig. Gearoid hadn't been the only one who'd got in between Padraig and a UVF man's bullet, and paid the ultimate price for it.
"There was, Roisin, God, there was!" Padraig cried. "Why didn’t I just shoot the guy who had him? I'm so! Fucking! Stupid!" Padraig hit he bar in between every one of the last three words.
"Calm down, Padraig, please," Roisin begged softly, taking his hands in hers and stroking them.
"I'm so stupid … he never said that he'd let Gearoid go if I put the gun down … and I fucking fell for it like the idiot I am! And then he just … and he blew his brains out right there … eighteen years old, he was, and they blew his brains out, and it was all because of me!"
"Padraig, you'd never have gotten away with it, would you? If you had raised your gun he'd have got you before you'd had a chance to fire a shot. We need you, Padraig. Every Republican in this country needs you."
Padraig downed his drink in one, and then looked up a Roisin again, his eyes slightly unfocused.
"I am fed up of being told that," he slurred. "I am fed up of people thinking it's OK for others to die because I'm supposedly the best thing that's happened to the IRA since Padraig Pearse or Michael Collins or whoever I'm being compared to these days. I ain't no Michael Collins. I'm Padraig Caraher, and I'm the only person in this whole city that had more deaths to my name than anyone else. Why can’t they just let me get shot?"
"Padraig, you don't mean that." Roisin said softly. "You're amazing Volunteer. Everyone makes mistakes, Padraig."
"I've made too many. There was Gearoid the other day, and before that Sean and Tomas, and then away before that they grabbed Proinsias off the street and they beat him and they tortured him but he wouldn't say where I was so they shot him and left him in an alley somewhere. And its ALL MY FUCKING FAULT!' Padraig stood up shakily and looked at Roisin again. 'I can’t do it anymore. I'm fed up of this."