I Used to Be a Spy

Dia Dhuit

"Why're ya speakin' English, Mister..." The man's voice trailed off, as if he purposefully forgot Michael's last name.
"Nolan, Kasey Nolan." Michael stuck his hand out but it was ignored. Pulling it back, Michael crossed his arms. "A while back I wooed an American girl." Michael winked.
"Ah, Nolan, a heartbreaker." Duer Kavanaugh, the areas fearsome drug dealer grabbed Michael by the neck, hard and stated, "What do ya want?"
Acting as if he was helpless, Michael stuttered, "Owe, don't hurt me. I've got goods coming in. Lots of goods. American stuff."
Kavanaugh cocked his head to the side. "Meiriceánaigh{American} goods, ya? Why would I want more?"
"My-my friend," Michael stammered, "said he was an idiot and lost yours. I see a deal and I go for it. Plus, if you're here I don't wanna be no part of rivaling ye."
Kavanaugh narrowed his eyes, anger threatening to blaze out. "You know Keenan?" He finally barked out.
"Not no more, I'm through with him. Since I'm here tryna' get you a supply and all." Michael wriggled free from Kavanaugh's tight grip and backed away a step, holding his hands out in front of him.
"Good, because this won't clear his debt." Kavanaugh spat out. "Show me what you got."
"It's not here, boss. But I could meet you at the old abandoned factory three miles north of 'ere." Michael refrained from holding his breath. The silence was painful, Kavanaugh's glare, steady. "Or else, I know another guy-promise it won't be steppin' on your toes, he's Northa here by at least thirty miles." Michael began to ramble. "How far does your territory run anyway? Ya got like a boundary and maps with it all?"
"Shut up, I'll take your stuff. Meet at 3 o' clock tomorrow. Come alone." Kavanaugh began to turn.
"You've got it boss. But-uh, I'm gonna need my body guard, seeing that ya man handled me pretty good, huh?" Michael forced a nervous chuckle.
"Get outta here." Kavanaugh placed his pool cue at the edge of the table, aiming.
"Ha, sure thing boss. I'm serious 'bout that guard though, don't come killin' me for that, ya?" Michael scooted out the door, sure Kavanaugh had stopped listening far long ago.
Michael let out a sigh, eyes wide. A battle between satisfaction and angst waged in his heart. He was back at it once again. Now that the nightmares had subsided significantly. Would this drag them back into his mind and muddy up his thinking? He knew what he wanted in life now, and wanted no part in being a spy, did this cross a line? Or was he truly helping out a neighbor now?
As he walked to his car he pondered these questions deeply, hardly noticing the policeman leaning on the wall across from his vehicle.
"Dia dhuit, Mícheál."
Michael's eyes shot to the figure, body tensing. Emerging from the shadow, the man stood beside Michael with his hands in the pockets of his uniform pants.
Michael relaxed his jaw and shoulders when he saw it was his friend, Police officer Beacan Hughes. "Dia dhuit{hello, Or literally "God to you"}, Hughes. You ought to not scare a fellow like that."
Hughes smirked, and nodded, mischief in his eyes. "Ought not to. Second time in the bar frequented by a Kavanaugh?"
Michael peered behind him, hoping Kavanaugh's men weren't watching. "You tailin' me?" Michael chuckled. Then more seriously he asked in hushed tone, "Can we talk elsewhere?"
Hughes looked at him, silent. Michael could feel his friend wanted to say more, but wouldn't, not here. "Slán go fóill{see you later}, then?"
"Tá{yes}, Slán{Goodbye}." Michael quickly jumped into his car and sped off, peering at his friend in his rear view mirror. His friend would understand his curt behavior, but not that he was getting involved. Michael rubbed his face, frustrated that Hughes was involved in the case. Of all the guards on the island, Michael thought surely another one would be assigned to it.
The rolling scenery eased his anxious thoughts, pops of color from wildflowers attracted his eyes. A small chortle escaped him. How his mother, Madi, would never recognize her son now. Him noticing flowers.
A pang of longing ached his his chest. "Don't do this," Michael audibly warned himself, gripping the steering wheel tighter. "Not now."
Michael pulled into the drive to see Fiona on the patio reading while Charlie played in the yard with his digging trucks.
"Daidí is here." Charlie gleefully shouted, dropping his digger and running to the car.
Michael's uneasiness washed away as he embraced his son and peered at Fi, a pleasant smile on her face. "Hello Cathal."