“So, Mr. Higgins what do you like to do?” Mr. McCreary asked after a minute of silence. Laughter is sometimes an excellent segue to casual conversation; an ice-breaker of sorts.
“Well, I started talking to Jackie about football. Turns out all three of us are fellow Villans.” I said hoping for the exact reaction I received.
“No! You’re joking! A fellow Villan in London is practically unheard of. You’ll certainly be coming along with us to our matches I hope?” He was completely serious.
“Yes, sir. I hope you don’t mind but your daughter took the liberty of inviting me along and I gratefully accepted of course! I’ve never been to a match.”
“Oh ho ho! We’ll have to watch you closely, my friend! People tend to get a little culture shock when they attend their first match.” He looked in the rear view mirror right at my eyes. “You have the bluest eyes I have ever seen; nice, dark, lovely. I can trust you can I not?”
“Absolutely sir.” I made sure to stare right back. I knew this conversation carried way more weight to it then it appeared to Jackie who slapped her father’s leg.
“Oh leave him alone, papa!” Mr. McCreary turned to her smiling, blushing a little from getting caught in his seriousness.
“Yes, it is for the best. He hasn’t even seen our estate, yet.”
A forty-five minute drive filled in with casual singing, playful joking, and a little embarrassment of Jackie, and we had arrived at McCreary Estates. It was a lovely hotel with excellent architecture. It was built like a massive cathedral. The outer white marble plated walls reflected the sun, appearing to shine at night as if it radiated it’s own light. A beauty of architecture in an extremely old city had certainly played a major role in the McCreary’s standing in the community.
As we pulled under the marble awning in front of the grand hotel, a suited man opened the door. “Here we are Tomas!” Mr. McCreary said from the front seat.
“And thank you for such hospitality. It’s a lovely place.” I looked up at the towering hotel. “This place is incredible.”
“Wait till you see the inside!” Jackie put her arm under mine and we walked inside are in arm. Normally I would say I escorted her, but I’d be lying. I had no idea where I was going.
The front desk was mahogany on a while marble floor with a gold fountain in the middle of the room. A piano player was jamming away at the keys beside the main door.
“Is that the Beatles?” I asked looking back.
“Yes, that’s Dad’s favorite band. He pays that guy to come in every night during dinnertime and play popular songs. My favorite is when he plays ‘Starlight’ by Muse. It’s wonderful and he has a great voice. You’d never know it by looking at him though.” She kept walking speedily, pulling me along.
“Mr. McCreary. Mr. McCreary!” I said chasing him. He turned back.
“Please, Tomas. The name’s Ian.”
“Okay, Ian. How do you know that man on the piano?”
“Oh a tragic tale. Shakespearean almost. He went to Julliard with me many years ago. Unfortunately, he and his family were in Tavistock Square when the attacks in 2005 took place. They were trying to get out of the city. Ironically enough, the same bus that would take them to the edge of town was filled with explosives. Two daughters, one wife, and a life were killed that day. Music and a dog is all he has left now. I let him sleep here and all I ask is that he plays requests if he can. Quite a sad tale for him, but he is a good chap, always has been. No terrorist can change that.”
“Tavistock Square? Is that close by?” I asked. I had never heard of the place. Like the rest of the world, I had only heard of the attacks on the news over cereal with my roommates in college.
“About two blocks north of here. The river is just south of us. Why do you ask?”
“Just curious is all. How did he survive?” I looked him in the eyes probing for answers.
“Ah, son. You’ll have to ask him that. I never had the heart to do so. He lost the lower half of his right leg and refuses to wear a prosthetic or take pain pills. Poor guy is still reeling from it all, as are most of the victims . . .” He paused to look over at him. “Say, Jackie will take you up to your room, won’t you sweetheart?”
“Yes, Father. Come along Tom.” I followed her up to my room. It was just like the lobby downstairs with a bed, bathroom, and plasma television thrown in.
“Your father is too kind to me. This is all so much. It must cost a fortune to stay here.” I was in awe.
“Yes it does. This is one of our V.I.P. suites after all. It’s not cheap, but my father can afford it. Most of the time it goes empty anyway.” She walked to the door. “Do you have plans for tomorrow?”
“No, I do not. Did you have something in mind?” I asked.
“I am supposed to be attending a knighting ceremony. The royal family will be there, and if I show up without a date . . .” She paused, nearly begging me with her eyes not to make her ask.
“I would love to.” I said, putting on my best award-winning smile. “I have to let you know, I am not brushed up on my Royal etiquette.”
“Then you will really get them talking. I had hoped for as much. I’ll find you around noon, okay?”
“Sounds great. I’m guessing it’s formal wear?”
“Unless you want the Queen’s bodyguards to throw you out.” She said as she walked out the door. She shut it behind her.
“No. No. We wouldn’t want that.” I said to myself. Only been in the country two hours and already have a date to a Royal event? Not bad, Tomas. Not bad at all. Just don’t mess it up!
***
I barged into the freezing storage room. Dad had turned it into an office room. “Hey, whatcha doin’?” I asked. I never realized how annoying I was until a few years later.
“Opening a few packs. Wanna help, Big Guy?” He grabbed a little wooden chair and pulled out an extension slab inside his mahogany desk. “You read the numbers and the names, and I’ll sort and mark them off. Sound good?”
“Yupper-doodles!” I sat down and picked up the scissors, ready to cut one open.
“Woe-woe-woe. You can’t just cut one open. What if a card was sitting at the top? If it was an autograph, and you cut it, wouldn’t you be pretty frustrated?” He nudged me so I knew he wasn’t upset with me. “So grab the top part, above where it’s sealed off, like this.” He grabbed the silver lining and began shaking it slightly and bumping the edges. “Now, run your fingers along there. There are no cards up there so feel free to cut.”
I nodded my understanding and picked up the first card. “Number seventy-eight, Edward Encarnacion. Says here he stole thirty-one bases his rookie season. Quite the start.”
For hours we sat and opened cards. I never understood my father’s obsession with them until much later.
You see, we often started talking baseball, but ended up talking about much more important things. We would walk out not worrying about life, school, money, sports, or politics. We only worried about what kind of ice cream we would get at Dairy Queen. I’m not sure why we ever thought about it because it was always the same thing; chocolate ice cream with oreos and cookie dough in it. We called it “The cookie jar.”
One summer in particular, 1999, was a very special one to my father and me.
On April 1st, Dad came home like he always had for the last twenty-six years. Except this time, he had a large box with him. This time he walked in and set it on the table and sat down beside it.
He didn’t come rushing in, picking me up by the armpits and twirling me around. Instead, he sat. I poked my head around the corner and saw him with his head in his hands, elbows on the table; classic frustrated position. Even at twelve I knew that wasn’t good.
I was about to go sit with him, but my mother came down the stairs. She walked into the kitchen and saw my father sitting there, a box beside him. “Shawn . . . what’s going on?” My dad looked up at her. Tears were in his eyes.
“They fired me . . .”
My mom sat down next to him and hugged him. When asked about it now she would say, “Those are moments when you prove your love. Never miss those moments, son.”
The next evening my father sat my brothers and me down. The two oldest girls were gone now, off living lives in college and marriage.
My father was never serious. He was always the jokester. Where do you think I got it from?
Not tonight, however.
“Boys, yesterday, I was fired from my job.” He wasn’t looking us in the eye. In his eyes, he had failed because he could no longer support his family. “I may need you three to pick up slack around the house or get jobs yourselves if you need extra spending money, or if worst comes, to help pay bills.” We all nodded our heads. This was the most serious thing to happen to the three of us in our lives.
“Can you do that for me?” My dad asked, finally looking up from his hands.
We all nodded yes while Bill asked, “There’s more isn’t there. I can tell by the look on your face, Dad.” Bill was eighteen and my hero. I couldn’t have looked up to him more if he was Superman.
“Yes, there’s more.” My mother grabbed his hands. Please say we’re not moving . . . please don’t be moving. Please don’t be moving. I begged mentally, closing my eyes waiting for the punch.
“I went to the dentist today before we lose our health care, by the way, you three will be going tomorrow as well. Anyway, he found spots on my tongue. He had me go see an oncologist.”
“Why would you study your uncles?” Gary asked. He was in between the Bill and me in age. He was big, strong, and had a kind heart.
“An Oncologist is a cancer doctor.” He had our attention. We all looked at our parents, going from one to the other. “I have cancer, boys.”
Gary and Bill protested. Their natural reaction was to want to fight it. They didn’t deal with overwhelming emotions like the rest of us, who cried or hid them. They were open to fighting, cooking, or working; truly, my father’s sons in that right.
“Now, guys, they say they caught it early. I’ll be having surgery in three weeks. I’ll be pretty useless around the house for a while so I’ll need you all to step up your help to take my place, you got it?” His serious voice was out. I never liked it, but it was very effective. Sometimes I wish I had my own serious voice.
“Yes, sir.”
“You can go do whatever you want now, but Mom and I need to talk.”
Gary and Bill walked downstairs to watch television. I was rooted to my seat. “Do Jenny and Marie know?” I asked.
“Yes, I called them before I called the three of you upstairs. Your mom and I need to talk, son. Can you give us a minute?” I tried to move. I really did. Emotion was breaking through the surface but I sniffed it back. I ran over and gave my dad a hug.
“I don’t want you to die, Daddy!”
“Oh, Tommy . . . I’d never die on you. Don’t you know how strong I am? I could pop your little head off with a flick of my finger! No little tumor is going to take me away from my family here buddy.” He rubbed my hair and patted me on the backside.
I ran downstairs to play with my two heroes, reassured by my father’s promise to never leave me.
***
At 9 a.m. Ian McCreary was knocking on my door. “Tomas? Are you up?” I hurried over and opened the door, still in my pajama clothes. Opening it I saw a large metal cart, wheeled by the owner of the hotel. “I’ll take that as a no. I’m sorry, son.”
“No sweat, sir. My alarm is set in fifteen minutes anyhow.” I really had it set for eleven, but he didn’t need to know that.
“Oh splendid. Well I brought you some eggs, bacon, toast, and jelly. I hope it’s to your liking. If it’s not, however, I trust you saw the room service telephone number on your night stand.”
“I did thank you, sir.”
“Ian, my boy! Ian.” He smiled charmingly at me. “It won’t be sir officially until this afternoon.
“The knighting ceremony is for you?” I stared at him. “That is incredible! Congratulations are in order.”
“Yes, I suppose it is quite the honor. The Queen will be knighting me in the Abbey. I just hope I don’t trip and fall over those steps. I’m quite clumsy these days.” He winked at me.
“I could always give you a nice shove in the procession line.”
“That would be splendid. Might liven up that drag of a party after all.” We both laughed at the thought. I really was growing fond of this man.
“Well, I’ll leave you to it then. Oh . . . but if you were wondering,” He reached his white gloves into his coat pocket, “Jackie is in room 1237. Just around the corner there.” He placed a golden room key on the cart. “A maid will pick the cart up after we’re gone to the ceremony. Oh I almost forgot.” He unpinned something from his jacket. “I would like you to wear this as my guest.” It was the shamrock pin of honor.
“You were in the Irish Special Forces?” I asked picking up the beautiful broach.
“Maybe . . . if I told you, I’d have to kill you.” He did his best to impersonate Sean Connery. It didn’t sound anything like him, but I laughed along because of his generosity.
“Thank you, s . . .” He eyed me. “Ian.” I recovered. “For the pin and for the food and for the room and for the ride . . . well for everything. You are truly a wonderful man.”
“A Mr. Joseph Giggle sends his regards, Tomas.” Ian walked out of the room. How did he know Joseph Giggle?
England certainly was an adventure.
Later that afternoon, Jackie came to my room twenty minutes early.
“Come in!” I yelled from the bathroom. I was just tying my best tie.
Jackie walked in a second later.
“Wow . . . you look incredible.” I stopped and stared at her long yellow dress. “You look like Belle.”
“Who?” She asked coming in. “By the way, wear this tie.” She handed me a golden tie to match her dress. “Oh and these cufflinks.” She handed me actual gold cufflinks.
“Can’t argue with that.” I said taking off my freshly tied tie. “I think you tricked me?”
“Tricked you? I’m not sure if I’m smart enough for that, Tomas.” She said watching me put in the cufflinks.
“Well you invite me to this ceremony, and don’t tell me it’s for your father!” I paused, looking up at her smiling. “Also, you didn’t tell me that I was going with the prettiest girl I have ever seen. You think you couldn’t have dressed down a little. I’m nervous enough as it is, and you have to go looking all gorgeous like that.”
She was blushing by now which wasn’t the reaction I was really going for. “You’re looking quite dashing yourself. It’s me that all the media will be watching. I’m supposed to answer all these questions and interviews. You get to stand there. I have to answer personal questions about my father and our past.” She ran her hand down the back of my suit coat rubbing off all the dust. “When did you last wear this thing?”
“Well I was going to get it dry-cleaned, but I didn’t have much warning before this thing.” I was getting too defensive.
“Relax, Tomas. I’m only joking. You look wonderful. A proper date for a princess, I would say. Come on we need to get down to the car.” I let her lead the way.
Next thing I knew, we were walking out of the elevator into the main lobby. It was not nearly as crowded as it had been the prior night, but those who were there couldn’t take their eyes off of Jackie.
“They’re all staring at us.” She whispered to me as I escorted her along.
“No they’re not. They’re staring at you.” She tried not to blush.
“I’m not used to this attention. I’m going to bomb those interviews.”
“No you won’t. Believe in yourself, Jackie. Plus, I’m right here and can save you. Just squeeze my hand if you need me during them okay?” I looked her in the eye while we walked. She knew I was serious.
“I’m so glad you’re with me on this, Tom.” She smiled her gorgeous smile once more. That was enough to get through the interviews, in my opinion. What else could they ask for?
“Me too.” I opened the door to the long, black limo. I held her hand while she got in and then scrambled in after her.
“To the Abbey please.” Jackie said to our driver. He turned around to face us.
“Would you like to take ze M1 or city streets madam?” The thick German accent sounded so out of place.
“Mr. Giggle?” I asked incredulously.
“Oh Herr Higgins! How wunderbar! Now, miss, your answer?” He was so happy it was contagious. He put Jackie at ease with his smile. I wish I could do that. Shut up! You’re doing fine. You calmed Jackie plenty.
“We’re early. Let’s show our American friend here the wonder of London, shall we?” She nudged me a little sharply with her elbow.
“Sounds wunderbar madam. Get ready to see die city Tomas!” The limo shot forward out of the entrance making bellhops jump out of the way and scaring several guests.
For the next hour, we toured the edge of Fulham, Tottenham, Liverpool and looped into the heart of London. We drove over the Westminster Bridge, past Big Ben and around Buckingham Palace and finally stopped in front of Westminster Abbey.
Ian McCreary was on the top step being interviewed by a crowd of reporters in his nicest suit his money could buy. His black hair was sleeked back and his beard and moustache had been groomed. He looked like a true gentleman worthy of his knighthood.
There were no paparazzi, only reporters and news cameras. Everyone knew Ian McCreary but he was not a celebrity. He was a successful man with a tragic story.
We walked up to the step behind Ian and were instantly surrounded by reporters. To my surprise, Mr. Giggle had followed us up to the step.
“Are you coming in Joseph?” I asked seeing him behind me.
“Well by invitation only, sir. I’ve known Ian for a very long time.”
“Something tells me you’re not an airplane steward, Joseph?”
“Ah you have made the connection then?”
“Well if you were only a steward, you wouldn’t be here now would you?” I smiled at him. I hadn’t pieced it all together, but I knew at least that much.
“I am Jackie’s bodyguard.” He whispered in my ear. “That’s why I was so suspicious of you, my friend. You’ve proved to be a great gentleman.”
“Well thank you, Joseph. I hope you’ll come to my birthday party in two weeks time?”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world. Just let me know where and what time, sir.” With that he pushed his way up to Ian, and led him in towards his seat.
The reporters swarmed on Jackie. Questions were being tossed back and forth like grenades.
“Are you proud of your father?”
“Well of course . . .”
“Do you wish your mother and brother could be here?” That stunned Jackie. She hadn’t expected that.
She squeezed my hand and I stepped in. “Ladies and gentlemen please! This is a wonderful day for the McCreary family, Ian and Jackie especially. Please get plenty of photographs of this lovely young woman, and help us enjoy our day more. Please excuse us, we don’t want to miss the occasion now do we?” I grabbed Jackie’s hand and pushed threw the crowd. She held onto my hand tightly. She must have been rattled by that question.
Her scars haven’t healed either.
Gender:
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