Dublin Rain
Aug 31, 2018 11:36:59 GMT -8
Post by mikeyb on Aug 31, 2018 11:36:59 GMT -8
Four years ago...
It was raining in Dublin. For most people, it was no big issue, they'd just pop out an umbrella or throw on a slicker and be on their way. Simon had a slightly more complex relationship with the rain.
Usually when he'd go home from the library he'd skate the train tracks, the gentle pulse of electricity radiating from his feet speeding him along the rail, allowing him to make the trip in minutes. In the rain though, such maneuvers could become significantly riskier. So that meant going the long way 'round.
Halfway back to the dorms, as he passed down King's street, he heard a guitar and a gentle Irishwoman's voice singing out from a pub. He briefly thought it strange that he could hear the voice so clearly through the door, closed against the rain
Simon pulled the door open to a packed room. Nobody turned to look at him as the cool air rushed in behind him, everyone’s eyes were on the stage, where the singer, a small, raven-haired girl had moved into a quiet but complex solo on her acoustic guitar.
Simon felt a tap on his shoulder, he turned to face a short, wiry Irishman with his hand out.
“Five pounds cover, mate, or back to the rain you go”
Simon reached into his back pocket and handed the doorman a five pound note. It briefly crossed his mind that bouncers were usually much taller and broader, but the music swelled again as the girl on stage went into the last verse of her song and he moved further into the pub to get a better view.
Time passed somehow both too slowly and too quickly. Worries about books to study and papers to write faded from his mind as he let himself be swept away by the music. It was only when the singer took a break that he took a moment to look around the pub.
Conversations were picking up again, small groups forming out of what was a captive audience just moments before. It seemed like everyone was familiar with each other, shaking hands, patting backs, kisses on the cheek. Not too unusual for a neighborhood pub. What did strike Simon as unusual was the lack of laughter. After the initial pleasantries each conversation seemed to turn intense almost immediately.
Simon shifted closer to a nearby group, trying to catch a few snippets of conversation.
“… next week, or maybe the week after? We can’t wait much longer, it’s just a matter of time before the government starts rounding up-“
“Aren’t we just playing into their hands? It’s what they expect of us-“
“It’s happening whether we do anything or not. Better to show our strength now than…”
A wave of panic rose in Simon’s stomach. He finally realized what was going on. This was a meeting place for violent X-Gene activists. His father had warned him against going places like this, he couldn’t be seen here, not with everything he had on the line, not with his plans. If he was seen, if his father somehow found out.. He had to go, he had to-
“Haven’t seen you here before.”
Simon whipped around, startled, to come face to face with the singer.
“Wee bit jumpy aren’t we? Why won’t you come by the bar with me, I’ll buy you a drink” Her voice was playful, with a strong Irish brogue.
“I-I’m sorry”, Simon stuttered, “I have to get back to school. Um, big exam to study for and all that”
“Ah, an Englishman. Coulda fooled me with those flaming locks.” She reached up and rubbed his head roughly. As she did, he suddenly felt calmer. Maybe a pint wouldn’t be such a bad thing after all.
He followed her through the crowd, the other patrons waving and toasting her as she passed.
The bar crowd parted for her as she reached the bar, almost unconsciously. The bartender, a big Irishman in a Bray Wanderer’s jersey smiled.
“Colleen! Tremendous set, nearly brought a tear to me eye.”
“Best it didn’t, if this crowd caught you cryin’ they’d be demanding free drinks to buy their silence. Could ya pull me a pint of Harp and a couple of shots of Tullamore?” The girl, Colleen, turned back to Simon. “Hope you don’t mind me ordering for you, I have a bit of talent for guessin’ strangers drinks.”
“Oh um, I have to say I’m not much of a whiskey drinker. Harp is my go-to though.” Simon tried to smile, but he had begun to notice looks from the other patrons of the bar. Some were probably curious as to who Colleen was talking to, but he noticed other looks, skeptical and untrusting.
The barman returned with the drinks and plonked them down on the bar.
“Well you’re in luck” Colleen said, “The pints for you, and the whiskey’s for me. Slainte!” She lifted the shot glasses, and threw them back quickly, one after the other. “So what brings a young English lad like you to the lovely shores of Dublin?”
“I’m at the University” Simon replied. “Criminal Law.”
“A future copper eh?” She motioned to the bartender who dropped another shot of whiskey in front of her. “Bit of a strange profession for an X’er isn’t it?”.
Simon’s stomach dropped again. “How did you- I mean, I’m not… I don’t-“
“Surely you’ve realized where you are, smart college boy like you?” She smiled at him. “Don’t worry, you’re among friends here. You think our doorman just lets anyone in off the street?” Simon glanced across the pub to the doorman, who looked back at him and gave him a nod.
The feeling of needing to escape was still there, but then again there was something about this girl… the way she played on stage, her smile…
“You still there?” she asked. “So tell me, what can you do?”
“What do you mean?” Simon asked.
“You’re an X’er, in an X’er pub, you can be open with me. Enhanced strength? Speed? X-ray vision perhaps?” Colleen winked at him.
Simon paused. The very fist rule his father had given him when his powers manifested was to never use them in public. Of course, he’d ignored that rule in order to skate the train tracks, but that was only at night, in the dark, when his black sweatshirt would hide his face from bystanders. It certainly wouldn’t be safe in a crowded pub. And yet.. Colleen looked at him with an expectant smile as she sipped her latest shot of whiskey.
He took a step back from the bar and put his hands in front of him, palms facing each other about a foot apart. As he slowly drew has hands closer together, sparks started to crackle between his fingertips. As they came closer and closer to touching, the sparks became steadier, cracking and flashing and holding a steady flow electricity until he clapped his hands together and it all disappeared. Colleen raised an eyebrow in approval.
“Not bad, Sparky.” She finished the shot of whisky and put the glass on the bar.
“It’s Simon, actually. Sorry I didn’t introduce myself. Simon Guthrie.” He put his hand out. Colleen looked down at it.
“Ya aren’t gonna put ten thousand volts through me are ya?”
“No! Of course not, I would never… you’re… of course not!” Simon stammered. Colleen laughed and shook his hand, adopting a serious, but still playful face.
“Very pleased to make your acquaintance, Constable Guthrie. Colleen O’Connor.”
Simon pulled his phone from his pocket to glance at the time, and was surprised to see that nearly two hours had flown by since he first arrived.
“Need to be going so soon? You won’t be sticking around for the second set then?”
There was nothing Simon wanted more in that moment then to stay and listen to Colleen’s music, but the voice in his head, the one that spoke in his father’s voice, was telling him if he didn’t study and pass his exam then he’d flunk out of school and be send to work with his uncle’s construction crew. He frowned.
“I can’t, exams in the morning.” He finished the rest of the pint and left the glass on a bar. “By the way, you haven’t told me what your powers are? If you don’t mind me asking.”
Colleen laughed, to Simon even her laughed sounded musical. “I never tell a boy my powers until he buys me a drink first, and seeing how tonight’s tab was picked up by me, I guess you’ll be leavin’ disappointed.” She grabbed the phone out of his hands and typed something quickly. “If you’re still curious tomorrow, feel free to give me a call.” She handed the phone back to him.
“I’ll be seein’ ya around, Sparky.” She turned and bounded back to the stage, where she picked up her guitar to a loud cheer from the audience.
Simon took one las look back up as he passed the bouncer. Colleen winked at him as she started playing.
As he stepped out onto the street he noticed the rain had stopped. It’d be easy to jump the train tracks for the last leg of his journey, but he thought it seemed like the kind of night that warranted a slow walk home. As he started up King street, the phone buzzed in his pocket. For a moment, he thought it was Colleen, somehow, but when he looked, the familiar pit in his stomach returned. It was a text from his father.
“Called dorm, still not home with exam tomorrow? Call me first thing in the morning to discuss.”
Simon sighed, pocketed his phone, put his hood up, and started the walk home.
It was raining in Dublin. For most people, it was no big issue, they'd just pop out an umbrella or throw on a slicker and be on their way. Simon had a slightly more complex relationship with the rain.
Usually when he'd go home from the library he'd skate the train tracks, the gentle pulse of electricity radiating from his feet speeding him along the rail, allowing him to make the trip in minutes. In the rain though, such maneuvers could become significantly riskier. So that meant going the long way 'round.
Halfway back to the dorms, as he passed down King's street, he heard a guitar and a gentle Irishwoman's voice singing out from a pub. He briefly thought it strange that he could hear the voice so clearly through the door, closed against the rain
Simon pulled the door open to a packed room. Nobody turned to look at him as the cool air rushed in behind him, everyone’s eyes were on the stage, where the singer, a small, raven-haired girl had moved into a quiet but complex solo on her acoustic guitar.
Simon felt a tap on his shoulder, he turned to face a short, wiry Irishman with his hand out.
“Five pounds cover, mate, or back to the rain you go”
Simon reached into his back pocket and handed the doorman a five pound note. It briefly crossed his mind that bouncers were usually much taller and broader, but the music swelled again as the girl on stage went into the last verse of her song and he moved further into the pub to get a better view.
Time passed somehow both too slowly and too quickly. Worries about books to study and papers to write faded from his mind as he let himself be swept away by the music. It was only when the singer took a break that he took a moment to look around the pub.
Conversations were picking up again, small groups forming out of what was a captive audience just moments before. It seemed like everyone was familiar with each other, shaking hands, patting backs, kisses on the cheek. Not too unusual for a neighborhood pub. What did strike Simon as unusual was the lack of laughter. After the initial pleasantries each conversation seemed to turn intense almost immediately.
Simon shifted closer to a nearby group, trying to catch a few snippets of conversation.
“… next week, or maybe the week after? We can’t wait much longer, it’s just a matter of time before the government starts rounding up-“
“Aren’t we just playing into their hands? It’s what they expect of us-“
“It’s happening whether we do anything or not. Better to show our strength now than…”
A wave of panic rose in Simon’s stomach. He finally realized what was going on. This was a meeting place for violent X-Gene activists. His father had warned him against going places like this, he couldn’t be seen here, not with everything he had on the line, not with his plans. If he was seen, if his father somehow found out.. He had to go, he had to-
“Haven’t seen you here before.”
Simon whipped around, startled, to come face to face with the singer.
“Wee bit jumpy aren’t we? Why won’t you come by the bar with me, I’ll buy you a drink” Her voice was playful, with a strong Irish brogue.
“I-I’m sorry”, Simon stuttered, “I have to get back to school. Um, big exam to study for and all that”
“Ah, an Englishman. Coulda fooled me with those flaming locks.” She reached up and rubbed his head roughly. As she did, he suddenly felt calmer. Maybe a pint wouldn’t be such a bad thing after all.
He followed her through the crowd, the other patrons waving and toasting her as she passed.
The bar crowd parted for her as she reached the bar, almost unconsciously. The bartender, a big Irishman in a Bray Wanderer’s jersey smiled.
“Colleen! Tremendous set, nearly brought a tear to me eye.”
“Best it didn’t, if this crowd caught you cryin’ they’d be demanding free drinks to buy their silence. Could ya pull me a pint of Harp and a couple of shots of Tullamore?” The girl, Colleen, turned back to Simon. “Hope you don’t mind me ordering for you, I have a bit of talent for guessin’ strangers drinks.”
“Oh um, I have to say I’m not much of a whiskey drinker. Harp is my go-to though.” Simon tried to smile, but he had begun to notice looks from the other patrons of the bar. Some were probably curious as to who Colleen was talking to, but he noticed other looks, skeptical and untrusting.
The barman returned with the drinks and plonked them down on the bar.
“Well you’re in luck” Colleen said, “The pints for you, and the whiskey’s for me. Slainte!” She lifted the shot glasses, and threw them back quickly, one after the other. “So what brings a young English lad like you to the lovely shores of Dublin?”
“I’m at the University” Simon replied. “Criminal Law.”
“A future copper eh?” She motioned to the bartender who dropped another shot of whiskey in front of her. “Bit of a strange profession for an X’er isn’t it?”.
Simon’s stomach dropped again. “How did you- I mean, I’m not… I don’t-“
“Surely you’ve realized where you are, smart college boy like you?” She smiled at him. “Don’t worry, you’re among friends here. You think our doorman just lets anyone in off the street?” Simon glanced across the pub to the doorman, who looked back at him and gave him a nod.
The feeling of needing to escape was still there, but then again there was something about this girl… the way she played on stage, her smile…
“You still there?” she asked. “So tell me, what can you do?”
“What do you mean?” Simon asked.
“You’re an X’er, in an X’er pub, you can be open with me. Enhanced strength? Speed? X-ray vision perhaps?” Colleen winked at him.
Simon paused. The very fist rule his father had given him when his powers manifested was to never use them in public. Of course, he’d ignored that rule in order to skate the train tracks, but that was only at night, in the dark, when his black sweatshirt would hide his face from bystanders. It certainly wouldn’t be safe in a crowded pub. And yet.. Colleen looked at him with an expectant smile as she sipped her latest shot of whiskey.
He took a step back from the bar and put his hands in front of him, palms facing each other about a foot apart. As he slowly drew has hands closer together, sparks started to crackle between his fingertips. As they came closer and closer to touching, the sparks became steadier, cracking and flashing and holding a steady flow electricity until he clapped his hands together and it all disappeared. Colleen raised an eyebrow in approval.
“Not bad, Sparky.” She finished the shot of whisky and put the glass on the bar.
“It’s Simon, actually. Sorry I didn’t introduce myself. Simon Guthrie.” He put his hand out. Colleen looked down at it.
“Ya aren’t gonna put ten thousand volts through me are ya?”
“No! Of course not, I would never… you’re… of course not!” Simon stammered. Colleen laughed and shook his hand, adopting a serious, but still playful face.
“Very pleased to make your acquaintance, Constable Guthrie. Colleen O’Connor.”
Simon pulled his phone from his pocket to glance at the time, and was surprised to see that nearly two hours had flown by since he first arrived.
“Need to be going so soon? You won’t be sticking around for the second set then?”
There was nothing Simon wanted more in that moment then to stay and listen to Colleen’s music, but the voice in his head, the one that spoke in his father’s voice, was telling him if he didn’t study and pass his exam then he’d flunk out of school and be send to work with his uncle’s construction crew. He frowned.
“I can’t, exams in the morning.” He finished the rest of the pint and left the glass on a bar. “By the way, you haven’t told me what your powers are? If you don’t mind me asking.”
Colleen laughed, to Simon even her laughed sounded musical. “I never tell a boy my powers until he buys me a drink first, and seeing how tonight’s tab was picked up by me, I guess you’ll be leavin’ disappointed.” She grabbed the phone out of his hands and typed something quickly. “If you’re still curious tomorrow, feel free to give me a call.” She handed the phone back to him.
“I’ll be seein’ ya around, Sparky.” She turned and bounded back to the stage, where she picked up her guitar to a loud cheer from the audience.
Simon took one las look back up as he passed the bouncer. Colleen winked at him as she started playing.
As he stepped out onto the street he noticed the rain had stopped. It’d be easy to jump the train tracks for the last leg of his journey, but he thought it seemed like the kind of night that warranted a slow walk home. As he started up King street, the phone buzzed in his pocket. For a moment, he thought it was Colleen, somehow, but when he looked, the familiar pit in his stomach returned. It was a text from his father.
“Called dorm, still not home with exam tomorrow? Call me first thing in the morning to discuss.”
Simon sighed, pocketed his phone, put his hood up, and started the walk home.