DARMEEN O’MALLEY ANGERED—AWAITING SHAWN O’CONNELL. SHE PEERED OUT THE EATERY WINDOW NOTICING A CLOUDY-DAY—THIS CAD HAD FIGHTING ON HIS MIND WITH A LOUSE THAT FELT HE OWNED HER. THIS FREAK WAS FROM THE “IRISH NEIGHBORHOOD” THEY LIVED IN. She wanted to talk him out of this BLARNEY about entering a fight—that was plain nonsense? THE CHAMP WOULDN’T ACCEPT THE REFUSAL OF DARMEEN O’MALLY, SINCE ALL LASSES COVETED HIM. In-a few minutes, she watched Shawn stroll—proud of his muscle-building by lifting huge crates at the docks. The Bonny Girl, Darmeen, was his? He slid in the booth across from her, and took her hands. “Me know you ‘not call’ just to down-food, Darmeen?” The waitress handed them a sheet of paper what they carried for the day— before the rush crowd at twelve noon came in. Darmeen liked the smell of the vegetable soup and a Braun’s Wager Sandwich, even if the sandwich wasn’t Irish; they both wanted to try it.

“Why must you fight ‘that bully’ just to keep me? I don’t need a belligerent man for a husband.” She proudly sat back… waiting for the food…

“It is ‘the-principal’ of the thing. If I don’t fight him this weekend, he will continue to harass me with the idea you’re his.” The waitress set their food down.
“You’re ‘a stubborn man,’ Shawn O’ Connell and I’m flummoxed what to do. You always ‘have to fight’ to solve a matter, instead of ignoring it.”

At five o’clock, he’d hurry to meet her at the front door of the law office where she worked? Then they’d take the subway down to the lower east end. At hand, she’d enter the tenement house where her mother, father and sister scantly made a living. From there she helped with the dinnertime meal in their two rooms and they shared the three bathrooms with the other fifteen families that resided on three floors, one bathroom a floor. He’d go to the end of the street where his family resided in another similar crowded tenement housing ten families, on two floors.

Come the weekend end, the families would play tunes with the harmonica, lutes
from their native lands—making merry by various jugs of ale and doing the-jig with
varied partners? The street would meet in the back of the tenement houses and celebrate
they were in the new land governed by God above. Darmeen reflected on these stories relayed by great grandparents and the atrocious persecutions they had endured by coming to find a fortune of gold beyond the rainbow. While growing up… she earned a few cents here and there babysitting. She’d hoarded the money in her hidden pot for the day she’d study to become a secretary at the prestigious New York City University? In her scanty-spare time, she spend it at the New York City Public Library scanning through novels, imaging the characters in mansions (with decent heat) where the heroines resided?

At dinner time, she sat with the family of seven at the supper table. She bowed her head for her father’s blessing. Her wish (in the future) was to find a small dwelling for her family if not in Manhattan maybe in Brooklyn? She aided her mother with the kin: Maureen, her younger sister with the blondish-red long wavy hair, and sky blue eyes. Patrick three years after Molly a year younger than Patrick, and the littlest one, Valery seven years with dimples on both cheeks. He liked to steal her newly knit mittens, for himself. The weather turned colder and the winds blew your tam right off your head out doors... add the whistling through the tenement house walls... many young and old died from the influenza every winter catching an unattended cold.

After Darmeen assisted with the dishes, she expected Shawn for their hourly walk around the area, and the docks. His good friend, Daniel Darnels ran the Starlight Pub near the Bowery docks. Darmeen and him were over-twenty and could imbibe one or two, at the most? She espied him out of the window above the sink. It appeared he had donned another long-sleeve brightly-flowered shirt.

The late cool spring weather nearing summer, so she changed her long-sleeved
blouse to a light-rose flowered one with green leaves scattered about. She sprayed scented flower spray on her neck and arms. Shawn inhaled her perfume, and took her arm, for their nightly stroll, walking two miles around the lower east end.

“Shawn did ‘you think anymore’ about backing out of the fight with the bully of
the street. He’s never lost a bout?” He disentangled his arm from hers, and stood arms akimbo glaring at her.

“Can you just ‘drop’ this subject? I’m ‘sick and tired’ of hearing about it; this Saturday at one in the afternoon, I’ll be the next-champ of the Irish streets.”
“Yeah, say you’re not ‘put in’ your grave, early in life?” She strutted ahead of him. He watched her for a few minutes donned in her ankle length skirt, and then caught up with her, and took her arm. She pushed him away with her nose in the air, and her face turned away until they reached the Star Light Pub. Fit to be tied, she strolled inside before him. She was amazed at the lights on the ceiling that had a star reflector over them.

There were varied males sitting at the long bar already “in their cups.” She
edged by, shunning their leers, and took a booth across from the bar about halfway up. Shawn sat across from her, waiting for the “ice to thaw” on her stubborn-face?

His buddy, Daniel, approached their booth, “Hi, mates, what can I get for you two tonight,” he smiled broadly, showing his pearl white teeth, noticing, Darmeen appeared like she just left a freezer.

“We’ll take two ales.” Shawn spoke sure she wouldn’t mind since the “Cat had her tongue.”