The Street and other stories by Gerry Adams

talking in the kitchen.
    “Sean!” he yelled.
    “What on earth’s the matter?” Mary’s tone was annoyed. That irritated Jimmy even more.
    “I was talking to him and he walked right past me,” he snapped. “Sean.”
    “What, Da?” Sean’s voice was heavy with sarcasm.
    “Don’t ‘what-Da’me.” Jimmy was on his feet. “Who’s ‘she’?” he confronted Sean.
    “What?”
    “Don’t ‘what’ me, Sean. I’m not an eejit. Who’s ‘she’? Is that any way to talk to your mother?”
    “I don’t know what you’re on about,” said Sean.
    “Don’t mess with me, Sean,” Jimmy yelled at him.
    Sean exploded.
    “Don’t mess with you! You’re the one that’s doing all the messing. I’m sick of this.” He turned to his mother. “I’m sick of this, Ma! He’s never off my back.”
    Jimmy was almost beside himself with rage now.
    “Who’s ‘she’?” he roared. “You need to be taught a bit of respect.”
    “I’m trying to go out, Da,” Sean roared back. “You…”
    “You’ll go out when I tell you and not before,” his father interrupted.
    “Is that right,” Sean shouted. “Well then, I’ll not go out at all! I’m away up the stairs, Ma.” He brushed past his father.
    “Sean!” Jimmy commanded.
    Sean ignored him and rushed from the room, slamming the door in his wake.
    “Jesus, give me patience!” Jimmy cried.
    He sat back heavily in his seat. His dinner, growing cold on thetray, lay ignored at his feet. He looked up at Mary.
    “Take it easy, Jimmy,” she said. “I don’t know about you, but I can’t take much more of this. You want to watch your temper,” she concluded as she, too, left the room.
    Upstairs she confronted Sean.
    “Go you down the stairs this minute and apologise to your father.”
    “Why should I apologise to him?” Sean was lying on his bed. She could see he had been crying. He looked at her indignantly as he spoke.
    “Because I said so,” Mary heard herself say. The words were out of her before she realised it, words she had heard so often from her own parents, words she had promised herself she would never use to her own children. Now having said them she was committed. “Sean. I’m not going to let this go on a minute longer.”
    “You always take his side.”
    “Sean, I’m not putting up with any of your oul’ nonsense. Get up, wash your face and don’t take all night about it, and then go down and see your da.”
    She paused for a minute. Sean sat up and edged to the side of the bed. She tousled his hair with her hand.
    “Come on,” she coaxed him. “You and your da shouldn’t be fighting. Go and see him before things get worse, and then when you’ve made the peace, go on out like you planned. Okay?”
    Sean started to protest.
    “Sean, please,” she silenced him. “Do it for me. Please.”
    Sean rolled his eyes and sighed resignedly. “Okay, Ma.”
    “Good boy,” she said.
    Downstairs she faced her husband. He looked at her sullenly.
    “Jimmy, Sean’s sorry about losin’ his temper. He’s coming down now to talk to you. Try and be patient. He was rushing to go out. Let him make peace and go on out.”
    “Mary, I’m only in after working hard all day. He can’t…” Jimmy started to protest.
    “Jimmy, please,” she silenced him. “Do it for me. Please.”
    Jimmy looked at her for a long, silent minute.
    “Please,” she repeated.
    “Okay, love.”
    “Give’s your dinner,” she said. “I’ll heat it up for you. Here he comes now. Take it easy, won’t you?” She smiled anxiously at him.
    “Okay.” Despite himself he smiled back at her. “Don’t worry.”
    “Thanks, love.”
    She took the tray from him and as she did she touched him lightly on the cheek. She headed for the kitchen as Sean’s footsteps were heard on the stairs. He walked hesitantly into the living room to his father.
    “I’m sorry, Da,” he said.
    Jimmy stared at him for an instant.
    “I don’t know what gets into you, son.”
    “I