The Ring of Claddagh

1

               Galway Bay harbours the oldest jewelers in Ireland. Or so they say, Erinn thought. Finally, she had arrived, after weeks of endless and most fatigable travel by boat and then train. It had been days since she had washed properly nor ate at a table, a least not at a one that didn't entitle all possible specimen of filthiness from the previous occupants. She was hoping for a quiet supper without having to answer to every chappie leaning over for a talk. She wouldn't engage of course, but no matter her interest. Arguably theirs was all that counted. She shrugged off the image of the last one in a rundown inn, dirty face and teeth, eyes twinkling with desire for a schmooze. Clearly and perfectly understandably to herself, she wasn't one for small talk. Nor did she travel all this way to make acquaintances.

               She stepped onto the paved road, immediately enveloped in a most distinguishable fishy odor. How nauseating. Her inners began twirling. It was everywhere, and she felt like it might have already penetrated her clothes and hair. When she looked around, she realized that the carriage had deposited her near the harbour. That explained the fish, which, at least for that night, she did not intend to eat. Crowded market had Erinn jostling through as best as she could. She was trying to find a sign of an inn or anything resembling one to settle in for the time she was to spend there.

              "Excuse me, is there an inn nearby?" she asked the woman passing by with a lad at her hand. The woman cackled loudly as if she had been asked the funniest question she'd yet heard.

              "An inn? Go 'way girl, you must have lost way. The one we had at old O'Maddy's hasn't been of service for years now. He had lost his son donkey's years ago so the old quack has taken a taste to gin. But you're welcome to come by and see for ." She pulled at the boy's arm, whispering Ye poor thing at Erinn.

              "We'll see about that," she said as if trying to reach her advisor's already long-gone ears.

              Then Erinn realized she forgot to ask where that old O'Maddy's was, but she put aside any intent to speak to anyone again. The first round didn't go as well as she had hoped for, so she decided to walk around and hopefully stumble upon the place. She only had a small bundle and a pouch which did not require too much strength, and even though Erinn was rather on the tinier side of the build, she could carry her belonging with an unmistakable confidence.

              It had been a bright morning, but the menacing clouds lurking in the horizon decided to ruin whatever chance the weather had that day to remain pleasant. With the darkened sky came the bone-chilling wind. On top of that, the seagulls filled the space with shrieking wails that should've deafened anyone under, but the locals went on about as if it was perfectly sunny and peaceful. Not having spent there more than an hour, the girl had already grown to dislike the place. She was a foreigner in Galway - completely ignored. Something she was not used to back in Philly where at least her uncommonly gingery hair stood out amongst other people because even for an Irish by descent it was rather rare. Here, there was a mountain of girls looking like her, and no doubt, her name Erinn would be as boringly common as a fish in the sea. Suddenly she felt lost in this buzzing crowd, and very alone.

                Her mother tried her best to discourage Erinn's adventurous travel plans. She had herself thirty years back gone through tremendous trouble in order to reach the shores of America, the land of all possibilities, with a child still in its crib. And yet here she was, a daughter so stubborn that nothing can stop her once she's made up her mind. But deep in her heart Mrs. Flynn carried great longing for her homeland. This is why she named her one and only daughter Erinn, Gaelic for Ireland. But it was all different from letting her eighteen-year-old child, because she still was just a child to her, travel all the way across Atlantic, alone and without well founded cause. Pleading to her pity of leaving the old woman all by herself was of no use, nor her menaces of disinheritance should she go against her wishes. It was set. She was going, and the only thing left to do was to prepare her as best as Mrs. Flynn could, buy her a ticket on a steamer, and pray that she may reach safely. Over there, she thought, her kin will take care of her.