He looked up from his notecards, straight into a single green eye of the jolliest looking leprechaun he had ever seen, lounging in a bright green suit in front of a pot of gold. The decal was peeling off the bus’s window due to the ice so that the other eye, gray on the back of the decal, hung down over the leprechaun’s face, giving it an oddly mismatched look. The bus lumbered on down past a green sign, Lake Drive. Jack and he were close. Maybe this great green bus was a leprechaun taking Benjamin to his pot of gold.
The bus hit a snowbank, and Benjamin dropped some of his notecards. He got up. The bus stopped suddenly, and he fell over onto the floor. The door opened, blowing the notecards all over. Benjamin swore, lifting himself up while brushing his black dress pants. His hand stuck to a pant leg. He extracted a piece of gray gum from them. Jack retched beside him.
“Hey! Don’t throw up in the bus!” He scooted away from a slightly older than he but still young fellow in a tattered bright green suit and scrambled to pick up the notecards. “Did you have to drink at every bar still open in Milwaukee?” Benjamin asked as he tried in vain to get the last vestiges of the gum off his pants.
“Yes.” Jack readjusted his mask.
“Don’t be smart with me brother mine.”
“Oh, come on. It’s the day for drinking, isn’t it?”
Benjamin, stuffing the notecards into the pocket of his white button up shirt, looked at the leprechaun decal then back at his brother then back again. It was an uncanny resemblance.
“I can’t believe you wore that. I told you to wear something respectable. It’s my first year. College is hard, and I want to impress these people. They’re rich. Filthy rich. I’m wearing my best clothes. It looks like you picked up that suit at a Goodwill.”
“I did. Specially for today and your little party. It’s the day for green things little Ben, green things and drinking. Lighten up. We are going to a St. Patrick’s Day celebration after all.”
“No. It’s an Anti-St. Patrick’s Day celebration. I told you! We are going to discuss real Irish history and celebrate actual Irish voices. I met these guys in an Irish English class for God’s sake!”
Benjamin imagined a large living room done up in red with a roaring fireplace at its center. Students, of all colors and creeds, gathered around with books open, each waiting expectantly for their turn to speak. Of course, they would all get a turn to speak. Every voice would be heard.
“Don’t take the lord’s name in vain as Mom would say. What is Irish English? And I can still do that in a green suit.” Jack crossed his arms indigently. Benjamin rubbed his face with a hand. Jack took the lord’s name in vain all the time. He was an atheist but expected Benjamin to be like their mother, married to the church! Benjamin went to church with his mother every Sunday. Jack never went.
“Does Irish voices include us?” Jack asked.
“No!”
“Why not? We are like a third Irish.”
“No!”
“Right… we are never included. All we get to do is watch.”
Jack straightened, looking at Benjamin. He cocked his head playfully. Sometimes he acted just like a little child. He wasn’t stupid. He read a lot. He was the reason Benjamin started reading so much. He could be gold. Benjamin guessed that was what a lack of a proper education, a lack of a proper teacher at an institution of higher education did to people. It made them fools. Fool’s gold.
“Do you have to embarrass me and drink yourself to death like Dad?” Benjamin asked.
“Dad didn’t drink himself to death. He injected himself to death. Besides I only drink on certain days. Days like today. Silly days.”
“Silly days… it’s only silly to you. Everything is silly to you. This could be my big chance. As for Dad, it was your fault! If you wouldn’t have kicked him out—”
“He would have died in our home. Just leave off. You didn’t need to see him like that so young. I did what I had to.”
The bus stopped again. Their stop. Benjamin braced himself before getting up and hauling Jack to his feet. Jack wobbled a bit then righted himself.
“Let go. I’m fine.”
“Come on then. We’re late because I waited for you. We have to hurry,” Benjamin said, straightening his tie. The two of them scrambled off the bus. He picked up his pace into a slight jog, leaving Jack to follow, stumbling, behind.
The slightly cloudy sky was turning a deep red as Benjamin hurried down Lake Drive. Bits of green grass tried in vain to poke up amongst mounds of gray snow. The thin blue line of Lake Michigan came into view right behind a large white house. A white house that looked like the White House, just slightly smaller. A silver Porsche and other expensive looking cars Benjamin didn’t recognize were parked out front. Perhaps it would have looked better to have brought the car. No, Jack’s old, rusted truck would have been worse than walking, but taking the bus looked pretty bad too. At least the sidewalks were clean, and it wasn’t snowing.
Benjamin walked up to the door. A gold sign hung in front. It proclaimed the Anti-St. Patrick’s Day celebration. He knocked, and an elderly lady answered the door. She bowed her gray head, nodding in his direction before motioning them into the hall. She said nothing.
The front hall led to a massive white and gold staircase, snaking up either side of a large arch window looking out at Lake Michigan. The maid, he assumed it was a maid, led Benjamin and Jack to the right through a set of white doors into a large living room decorated in navy blue, brick fireplace cold and empty. The room was covered in shelves of books and various bric-a-brac. There were tribal African masks, a star of David, various porcelain unicorns, and a statue of what appeared to be the Buddha. The trinkets celebrated every culture of the world. It stood in stark contrast to the simple crosses and pictures of Jesus that hung on Benjamin’s family home walls. Benjamin’s family reeked of American conservatism.
“They’ve traveled all over the world. They’re so cultured,” Benjamin said.
“So?” Jack asked.
“I’ve never left Milwaukee.”
“Nothing you can’t get from a good book.”
Jack picked up a small white unicorn. Benjamin glared at him.
“What?” Jack asked.
Jack sat down on a navy sofa and turned the unicorn around and around in his hands. Benjamin paced. They waited a long time before Benjamin saw a glint of gold in the shadow of the door.
“Ben, you’re finally here. Toby started without you.” A blonde girl stepped out into the living room. Jack got up and held the unicorn behind his back.
“Maria. This is my brother Jack. Jack this is Tobias’ girlfriend, Maria.”
“Hello.” Jack extended his free hand to grasp hers. Eying his moth-eaten suit, she quickly clasped both hands behind her back. “Is this your house? It’s big. How many rooms are there?” Jack asked.
“No, it belongs to Tobias’ parents. Only nine bedrooms, two living rooms, a dining hall, a smaller dining room, the kitchen, four bathrooms, the parlor—”
“Okay, I get the idea,” Jack said, waving his hand at her. “The only room you really need in a house is the bathroom.” He eyed the trinkets.
“Sure…” She pursed her lips.
She led them past the staircase to the left to yet another set of white doors that led into the main dining hall. She held the door open a crack. Benjamin saw a long white table that took up much of the space. Bodies, of every color between peach and brown, took up only half of the table, each spaced a seat apart. They were turned in rapt attention at a figure in white standing at the head of the table. A cold blue light lit up the room from several sconces. Another gold Anti-St. Patrick’s Day banner hung on the wall.
“Due to the famine, nearly a quarter of a million people emigrated here to the United States. The Irish state could not provide its young people with an ample path to the future in their own country which is something that continued until very recently due to a largely unchanged conservative capitalist system, as such—” Tobias said, his white suit gleaming in the blue light.
Benjamin, Jack, and Maria slipped through the open door. Maria let go, and the door slammed shut behind them. Tobias looked up at the noise, an angry scowl on his face.
“Oh. Ah.” His scowl transformed into a look of curiosity. “Ben, was it? We skipped your part, I suppose. You were the one who was supposed to do the introduction to the Celtic Revival correct?”
Benjamin nodded and reached for the cards in his shirt pocket.
“Ah well. We are well into the Irish famine and moving onto the Irish Free State. We can go back to it later… if we have time. Take a seat.”
Benjamin’s hand fell, his face red. He quickly sat down at the far end of the table, opposite Tobias. Jack sat across from him. Maria smirked at him before taking her seat to the right of Tobias.
“The Irish Free State was a compromise that many did not agree with due to Ireland’s constitutional status. The IRA and Sinn Fein sought a republic; however, the Irish Free State would still bow its head to the British monarch as the head of state. This led to the Irish Civil War. The Irish Free State army won the war, leaving the republicans with their ideals of social change in the dust.”
The bodies in the room shifted, writhing. There were a few boos. They echoed in the long hall.
“Now, now what writer valiantly seized the Rotunda Concert Hall in protest, holding it for four days in Dublin while flying a red flag?” Tobias asked.
“Liam O’Flaherty,” Ben said. He would prove to them his worth. Tobias would have to give him another chance.
“Good. On behalf of workers in Ireland, he opposed the conservative capitalist Irish Free State in favor of a socialist state that would give rights to its workers. The government was backward, but the writers of Ireland still looked forward toward a utopia they could only envision in dreams.”
“Why don’t you start with yourselves before forcing your vision of the future, utopia, onto others?” Jack asked.
Benjamin kicked him in the leg. Jack didn’t react.
“What did you say?” Tobias paused.
“He didn’t say anything. Please continue.” Benjamin kicked Jack again. This time Jack heaved a sigh and got up.
“I’m sorry. He’s not usually like this.” He was always like this. But Benjamin took one look at the white table, reflecting a harsh blue light and followed Jack out into the night. “Hey!”
Jack turned around. “They don’t know anything about suffering. All they can do is talk about the suffering of others. Talk about their plans for others as if those others couldn’t hear and didn’t have their own plans!”
“Someone doesn’t have to personally suffer to understand the suffering of others. Anyway, today was about me not you. You have to make everything about you! I wanted to make connections. Connections that might have gotten me a trip out of this hellhole.”
“Maybe they do have to suffer!”
“Says the person who thinks books are a good replacement for real experience in other countries.”
“You can run as far as you like Ben, but your insides will never escape this place.”
“I don’t want to hear this. You are not my father.”
“I’m like a father to you. I came today, didn’t I?”
“I didn’t have anyone else to ask.”
“Why ask me to come at all? They are your friends not mine. Your old enough to go alone.”
They were his friends, weren’t they? Why not go alone. Benjamin didn’t have an answer to that. Jack always embarrassed him. He knew Jack would embarrass him. Why did he bring him to this place? A pauper like him to a princes’ palace.
“Because you’re the smartest person I know…” Benjamin whispered.
Jack took a small white unicorn out of his jacket pocket and threw it to Benjamin who caught it in surprise.
“Stealing now?”
“I just forgot to put it back. Go give it back.”
“Give it back? How? I cannot escape…” Benjamin muttered. Jack always said what Benjamin was too afraid to say. Thought what he was too afraid to think. He always told him the truth or at least his truth. Benjamin wanted a different future so badly. He didn’t care if it was someone else’s. Did he? Was someone else’s future good enough? He thought of the cold blue light in the white house. It filled his imagination, making him as cold inside as he felt outside.
Jack, straightening his green suit coat, walked off into the falling snow. Benjamin stood silently, watching him go until the snow covered up even his tracks. Everything green, the white house, and the cars, was covered by the snow. Only Benjamin’s black pants showed stark against the white. He grasped the unicorn, the horn pressing into his palm until a trickle of blood ran down onto the snow. He was dirty. Dirty little Ben wasn’t meant for a place white as snow. Even the snow couldn’t wash him clean. He looked up into a starless night sky.
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