Valerian Markarov

Everything Has Its Time


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slightly. Illness had made him completely unrecognisable. He had had no appetite for a long time now, and only after persistent persuasion from his wife or daughter would he agree to eat even a few spoonfuls of food, holding it in his mouth for ages until it turned into a liquid and poured like slush into his stomach, a stomach withered from hunger. He had been right… Tormented by illness, joking was all he had left.

      «Dad,» she said after a few moments’ pause, «Dad, I wanted to tell you, that I… I love you!» A few tears emerged from her emerald green eyes, despite all her efforts to hold them back. They left two clear, dark and grim lines running down her lightly applied make-up. Two of them fell heavily upon her high, silken wrapped chest.

      «Is that true?», he looked at her and smiled. Noticing tears in her eyes, he decided to cheer her up, saying, «Was this even slightly more than you loved buttercream, Erin?»

      «Of course, Dad. So much more than buttercream!» she snuggled up to his pale, motionless arm and twirled the bracelet on it used by hospital staff to identify the patient. Before giving him his medicine, the staff always scanned the bracelet bar-code. Then they almost always proceeded to ask the patient for his date of birth and surname, because you can’t be too careful.

      «And I… I love you more than anything else on earth… I don’t remember if I ever told you this, but you almost died at birth. They brought you to me, a tiny little thing, swaddled in a cotton cloth. I remember how carefully I took you into my arms, and my eyes filled with tears of joy. Yes, a huge joy, even though I really wanted a son… hmm…» he broke off for a moment, but then continued, «…but when God gave you to me, I felt an exquisite happiness. And really, what difference does it make if you have a son or daughter!»

      Erin sat and listened to this account in silence.

      «I knew nothing about raising children, especially not girls. I probably wasn’t a very good father to you…»

      «What are you on about, Dad! You were and are the best father on earth! You’re my hero! And you are still a loving husband to Mum. I want my future husband to treat me like you treat her.»

      «You’re exaggerating, Erin.»

      «No, I’m not! When I was a child, you lifted me up in your arms, and when you swung me around it took my breath away, you threw me up in the air and caught me, you never dropped me…»

      «Yes, it was all well and good back then, when you were small, and I didn’t have backpains…»

      «You were always by my side, dad. You always took a keen interest in my hobbies and were always ready to come and help me. We even kept secrets from Mum, remember how much we loved hide-and-seek? You taught me how to dance the jig and tell a reel from a hornpipe?»

      «I remember it took you a long time to master the stepdance,» he said.

      «Yes. You kept saying «feel the rhythm’, «keep your back straight and your head up’, «don’t look at your feet.» It was hilarious! Remember when they took the mickey out of me at school and called me a «red-headed broomstick’, you made me feel better, you told me I was the most beautiful in the school by a country mile… like a princess!»

      «And you grew up to be a woman full of self-confidence, a woman able to achieve success.»

      «I saw how you enjoyed every moment we spent together, although I think you raised me to be a tomboy.»

      «How do you mean?» Kevin looked the other way, «probably because I took you with me to go fishing and watch horseracing? Or because I took you hiking in the hills with me to study nature?»

      «Not just the hiking! We went to the circus together, and the theatre! Remember you taught me to play the guitar and the harmonica? And hurling! Those wooden bats are still waiting for us, Dad.»

      Her father sighed again, but to her enthusiasm he did not respond. She continued: «That wasn’t all for nothing! Thanks to what you taught me, Dad, I learned to stand up for myself. You trusted me more, and gave me more freedom than Mum did.»

      «But Mum wanted to keep you out of trouble, you understand?»

      «Of course, but that’s no reason to restrict someone’s freedom… With a good upbringing, a daughter will know to keep out of trouble, right?»

      «Right, Erin, you are an adult, a fully independent person, and the day is coming when you will leave our house and make your own way in life. But I just want to let you know that our door is always open for you to return if you want to. And it doesn’t matter what age you are or whatever your circumstances may be, you can always come back.»

      «Thanks, Dad! And by the way, I have a present for you…» she reached into her handbag and produced a neatly folded green t-shirt. «Read the front…» she unfolded it, and Kevin smiled, reading with great pride the large lettering across the shirt: «Kiss me, I’m Irish!»

      «Let me put it on you for this sacred day. For your day! You can’t say no! Otherwise, everyone not too lazy to get up will see and have a go at you for not donning the green for this day. Even Her Majesty is in green today…»

      He closed his eyes, indicating consent, and the ensuing procedure took several difficult minutes.

      «How are things in our pob?» he inquired quietly.

      «Dad, you have to say «pub’», she softly corrected him.

      «Not a chance! «Pubs’ are English boozers. Ours is an Irish pob! How is business going?»

      «It’s all going well, Dad. Great, even! They all told me to give you their regards and wish you a speedy recovery. It’s just that…»

      «Just what?» Kevin asked, a shade uneasily.

      «The barmen are offended that we don’t allow them to take tips from customers. They complain that they give it their all like factory workers, but that if they worked elsewhere they’d be earning more money to live on…»

      «You know, Erin,» he interrupted her, «some people think that just fulfilling their everyday duties at work is some sort of great feat. When generally, to be honest, I’m only ever satisfied with their work. You remind them that in Irish pobs you never ever take tips. Tell you what, daughter… Increase their pay by 20%. I want them to be happy… We’re like a family.»

      «That is generous, to say the least. Fine, Dad, so it shall be,» she gave him an obedient nod of her head.

      «Have you managed to hire another two waitresses? Remember? You told me you would.»

      «Yes, last week eight hopefuls came. They filled in application forms. Going off how they described themselves, you’d think they knew this job well. But really, they couldn’t even hold a tray properly.»

      «Erin, you’ve got to be more realistic; don’t try to find ideal staff. Where can they be found in a country as obviously imperfect as this one?»

      «Eventually I did find two waitresses, but it wasn’t easy. I am not letting them serve people yet, I want them to have a bit of preparation first. One of them, to be honest, is not very bright, but she has cooking experience. It would be best if I could try to use her potential there…»

      «You’ve become a good manager, Erin! And I’m glad that you have done a good job of covering for me for six months now, since these terrible headaches started.»

      «I had to do it! Work brings me joy. In the end, this is our business, our family business. And I’m proud of it!»

      «And I’m proud of you, Erin…» then he groaned heavily, closing his eyes as he did so, «the pain… It’s killing me…» a nurse ran in and injected something into his veins, and this soon relieved the pain. But for how long? When the nurse came back again about five minutes later and asked how the sick man was feeling, he smiled at her and responded with a question of his own:

      «I’m