LJIdol 3 Strikes Week 10 - Craic
Jun. 14th, 2022 09:00 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hangedkay“Sláinte!”
The cry rang out across the private room at The Auld Shebeen. For the past hour, the inhabitants of the room had called out the same toast nearly once a minute, each time followed by the sound of a multitude of glasses clinking, a pause, and then pounding on the table. Their apparently bottomless stomachs would have caused any other bar or restaurant to run out of Guinness by now. But this was no amateur establishment.
The party had made for an extremely busy evening so far, and it seemed unlikely to slow down any time soon. Another 30-something year old man pushed through the front door and made his way towards the regulars at the bar.
“Ah, Finn! What’s the craic?”
“Divil a bit. I’m on me tod tonight. Story horse?”
“Ah, sickner for ya. But you’d never believe the fierce session I was at last night…”
“It’s like someone had a bit of fun with a dictionary, isn’t it?” Liam sat across from Shannon in the booth furthest from the cacophony of the private room, the pair of them nursing a single pint together. Neither of them were serious drinkers and, truth be told, the rowdiness of the groomsmen had ruined their appetite as well. Liam’s plate still held the vast majority of his plate of bangers and mash, and unless you looked closely, you couldn’t even tell Shannon had ever tasted the shepherd’s pie in front of her.
“Honestly, Li, I don’t think I’m hungry anymore.” Liam understood completely. He had brought Shannon to the restaurant thinking it would make her feel comfortable and relaxed, her being of Irish heritage and all, but it had done quite the opposite. He nodded and called out towards the bar.
“Excuse me, waitress? Can we get a couple boxes and the check, please?”
“Sure, mate. Sorry about the bleedin culchies. If I weren’t needin the tips, I’d give ‘em such a tongin.”
Liam stared at her blankly for a moment, then made a rectangular shape motion with his hands and repeated, “Check, please?” It was not how he was hoping the evening would go.
--
“Well, now what?”
Shannon swung the bag holding her leftovers lazily in her right hand, her left hand held at her hip. She had refused to let Liam carry the bag when he asked, a tiny reminder of how strong and independent she was. Usually, it made her that much more attractive. Tonight, it just made Liam nervous.
“I was going to suggest ice cream at Woody’s, but maybe not?” Woody’s was Shannon’s favorite local ice cream shop and located right around the corner from the Shebeen.
“Not tonight, I think. My stomach kinda feels on edge right now.”
“You want to head over to the park to sit, or do you just want to head home?” Liam tried hard not to influence her, but was hoping desperately for her to choose the park. If so, there might yet be some hope to saving the evening.
“Would you mind if we just headed back?” Before he could answer, Shannon was already headed across the street towards the parking lot. Liam had to step double time to catch up before the walk sign changed and left him stranded. He caught up just as she stepped up onto the far curb and they headed back to the car in silence. Liam went to reach his hand out to hers and realized she had moved the leftover bag over to the hand nearest to him. Instead, he put his hand in his pocket and trudged on.
Inside his pocket, his hand curled around a small box. Inside that was the Claddagh ring that would have to wait for another day to see the light. He sighed almost imperceptibly as they reached the car. Before he could move to her side, she had already opened the door and started climbing in.
It was a quiet drive back to her house. It was a shorter than usual kiss that she left him with. It was a longer ride home than usual, even before he decided to drive past his house and around the neighborhood a couple times. By the time he gave up and pulled into the garage, it was nearly 11:00. Too late to do much else, but too early to fall asleep.
Liam took out his journal, and wrote something very different from what he had planned for tonight’s entry.
With a name like mine, and hair like mine, and skin like mine, everyone always presumes I am Irish. They presume I know the language, the food, the culture. No one ever believes me that I am actually German, from a long line of Williams, at least until they meet my parents.
Shannon makes me want to be Irish. Makes me wish I had that innate knowledge. I have been trying to learn. For her I would change who I am. For her, I would eat differently, drink differently, talk differently.
I am trying. I am learning.
But today... Today was not a good day. Or as the Irish would say - it was “minus craic”. That has such an odd ring to it.
Speaking of, I still have the ring. And I still have time. And I will be ready when the opportunity arises.
Maybe I just shouldn’t try so hard to make it perfect next time.
The cry rang out across the private room at The Auld Shebeen. For the past hour, the inhabitants of the room had called out the same toast nearly once a minute, each time followed by the sound of a multitude of glasses clinking, a pause, and then pounding on the table. Their apparently bottomless stomachs would have caused any other bar or restaurant to run out of Guinness by now. But this was no amateur establishment.
The party had made for an extremely busy evening so far, and it seemed unlikely to slow down any time soon. Another 30-something year old man pushed through the front door and made his way towards the regulars at the bar.
“Ah, Finn! What’s the craic?”
“Divil a bit. I’m on me tod tonight. Story horse?”
“Ah, sickner for ya. But you’d never believe the fierce session I was at last night…”
“It’s like someone had a bit of fun with a dictionary, isn’t it?” Liam sat across from Shannon in the booth furthest from the cacophony of the private room, the pair of them nursing a single pint together. Neither of them were serious drinkers and, truth be told, the rowdiness of the groomsmen had ruined their appetite as well. Liam’s plate still held the vast majority of his plate of bangers and mash, and unless you looked closely, you couldn’t even tell Shannon had ever tasted the shepherd’s pie in front of her.
“Honestly, Li, I don’t think I’m hungry anymore.” Liam understood completely. He had brought Shannon to the restaurant thinking it would make her feel comfortable and relaxed, her being of Irish heritage and all, but it had done quite the opposite. He nodded and called out towards the bar.
“Excuse me, waitress? Can we get a couple boxes and the check, please?”
“Sure, mate. Sorry about the bleedin culchies. If I weren’t needin the tips, I’d give ‘em such a tongin.”
Liam stared at her blankly for a moment, then made a rectangular shape motion with his hands and repeated, “Check, please?” It was not how he was hoping the evening would go.
--
“Well, now what?”
Shannon swung the bag holding her leftovers lazily in her right hand, her left hand held at her hip. She had refused to let Liam carry the bag when he asked, a tiny reminder of how strong and independent she was. Usually, it made her that much more attractive. Tonight, it just made Liam nervous.
“I was going to suggest ice cream at Woody’s, but maybe not?” Woody’s was Shannon’s favorite local ice cream shop and located right around the corner from the Shebeen.
“Not tonight, I think. My stomach kinda feels on edge right now.”
“You want to head over to the park to sit, or do you just want to head home?” Liam tried hard not to influence her, but was hoping desperately for her to choose the park. If so, there might yet be some hope to saving the evening.
“Would you mind if we just headed back?” Before he could answer, Shannon was already headed across the street towards the parking lot. Liam had to step double time to catch up before the walk sign changed and left him stranded. He caught up just as she stepped up onto the far curb and they headed back to the car in silence. Liam went to reach his hand out to hers and realized she had moved the leftover bag over to the hand nearest to him. Instead, he put his hand in his pocket and trudged on.
Inside his pocket, his hand curled around a small box. Inside that was the Claddagh ring that would have to wait for another day to see the light. He sighed almost imperceptibly as they reached the car. Before he could move to her side, she had already opened the door and started climbing in.
It was a quiet drive back to her house. It was a shorter than usual kiss that she left him with. It was a longer ride home than usual, even before he decided to drive past his house and around the neighborhood a couple times. By the time he gave up and pulled into the garage, it was nearly 11:00. Too late to do much else, but too early to fall asleep.
Liam took out his journal, and wrote something very different from what he had planned for tonight’s entry.
With a name like mine, and hair like mine, and skin like mine, everyone always presumes I am Irish. They presume I know the language, the food, the culture. No one ever believes me that I am actually German, from a long line of Williams, at least until they meet my parents.
Shannon makes me want to be Irish. Makes me wish I had that innate knowledge. I have been trying to learn. For her I would change who I am. For her, I would eat differently, drink differently, talk differently.
I am trying. I am learning.
But today... Today was not a good day. Or as the Irish would say - it was “minus craic”. That has such an odd ring to it.
Speaking of, I still have the ring. And I still have time. And I will be ready when the opportunity arises.
Maybe I just shouldn’t try so hard to make it perfect next time.
