On The Other Side

Chapter Five: Canned Peaches

I crouch down behind the counter; I can hear Mr. Declan and mamaí talking. I know she's angry at Mr. Declan for sneaking canned peaches in our bags last night. I saw him put the delicious looking peaches into mamaí's bag. I knew she would be mad, but my tummy wanted those things so badly, I didn't say anything. When we got home, I pulled them out, hugging them to my chest.

I wasn't sure how I was going to open the can up; I knew we didn't have a can opener. When I was about to take a knife to the top of the can, my mamaí chose that unfortunate moment to walk in. I guess seeing me with canned peaches, she herself didn't purchase, and a knife, made her go a little red.

When my mamaí rants it's always in Gaelic. I love the lilting sound of it, even if it's spoken in anger. I start to cry, but not because I'm scared or upset. Hearing Gaelic makes me miss my daidí. He would sing me Scottish lullabies every night, I can remember his deep voice sounding a bit like gravel, his rough lips kissing my nose.

When she notices my tears, she gathers me into her arms. I bury my face in her neck, smelling her familiar smell. Against her skin I sob, "I miss daidí, I want him back. I want to go home."

Mamaí pulls back, kissing my forehead. "I know, Aggie." She softly brushes the damp curls of my hair back. "Mo grá, I want him back too, so much. I miss his laugh, his smile. It pains me knowing you'll go through life without a daidí. But he would want us to be strong. I know it's hard somedays to be strong, but with Miriam, Corky and Craggy, we're making a new life here in America. These new friends are our family now."

"Don't forget about Mr. Declan, he's our friend too, mamaí." I pick up the canned peaches, put the most pleading look on my face that I can, mamaí frowns at the offending can. "It's just peaches, please can I have some, my tummy told me it wants to taste them really bad."

She throws her head back in laughter, her hair catching the flickering flame of the candle, making her look like an angel. "Aggie, I don't like that Mr. Declan is always giving us things for free, we aren't a charity. We can make our own way in life."

My heart gets sad at that, I like when Mr. Declan gives us things. When he sneaks candy in my pockets, and extra food in our bags, my heart doesn't miss my daidí as much.

Mamaí swipes a finger down my nose, making me smile. "But, maybe just this once, we can accept the peaches." I jump up, skipping around the room in joy. I've never had peaches before. I can already taste them. "Tomorrow we must go and thank Mr. Declan." Then under her breath she whispers, "And ask him to please stop this nonsense."

The peaches taste as delicious as I thought they would, their sweetness only making me want more. I drink all the juice, mamaí stopping me when I would have licked the bowl.

"It's bedtime now, grá, let's brush teeth, sing and say our prayers." I let mamaí rock me, even though I'm mostly grown. She sings Gaelic lullabies, chasing the night shadows away. We snuggle up in the only bed we have, pulling the blankets to our chins.

I dream about Scotland, the green, the animals on the farm. Then I see a man in the distance. I run to him, thinking he's my daidí, but when he turns around, it's Mr. Declan. I wake up, let my eyes adjust to the darkness. I feel confused, my heart wasn't sad when I saw it was Mr. Declan and not daidí. My tummy feels scared that I might love Mr. Declan as much as my daidí.

I hear Craggy coming down the stairs, interrupting my thoughts, his cane making a bumping sound on the steps. When he sees me, he smiles and winks, "Why are you hiding about, lass?"

I put my finger to his lips, shushing him, then point to Mr. Declan and mamaí. Her hands are on her hips, her cheeks red. Mr. Declan looks 'sasperated. He said that word the other day, I asked him what it meant, he said, "Your mother makes me exasperated, that's what." I still don't know what it means, but I guess mamaí makes him that way.

"Claire, I'm not letting you pay for the peaches, they were a gift." He scrubs a hand through his hair, crosses his arms over his chest. "A gift for Aggie." He says this with a smile, thinking this will convince her. I know it won't.

"Ms. Claire, if you please. Mr. Declan, since you won't let me pay you, then I'll just work extra today to pay for the peaches." She then turns on her heel, grabbing the broom from the corner, completely ignoring the shake of Mr. Declan's head, his fingers clenching in frustration, and starts sweeping the scarred wood floors.

I cover a laugh with my hand, Mr. Declan's face looks so funny when he's 'sasperated. Craggy doesn't care who hears him, he belly-laughs out loud, his head thrown back, making Mr. Declan roll his eyes, mamaí hrmphs.

I like this day; I like being in this store. I hum a little while I help Craggy restock the shelves. The canned goods are my favorite things to stack. "You're doing a good job, wee one, and I think that deserves a reward." Craggy goes to the candy counter, pulling out a lollipop, my eyes going round at that yummy looking treat. "This is because you're such a good helper and such a sweet child." He pats my head with his big hand, his wrinkles deepening with a smile.

Mr. Declan walks over, muttering under his breath, his hair sticking up. I can't help myself, I throw my arms around his legs. "I love you, Mr. Dec, go raibh maith agat, thank you for the peaches, my belly loved them."

His face softens, he swings me up into his arms. "Oh Aggie-girl, I love ya, too."