Blindsided

Letterkenny, a noisy street on the worst parts of Dublin. Everyone that lived there either had a low paying job or no job at all. The streets were so small, that the distance between to houses on either sides of the street could be covered with two steps. Everyone on that street could most likely write a biography about everyone. At the doorsteps of the fifth house, a sturdy looking man stood, leaning on the door frame and talking to a chubby woman that was younger than she looked. Miss Bannon was only twenty-nine years old but life had decided to play a cruel joke on her by making her look like fifty-nine year old maid. Everyone on the street looked older than their age ; a result of their hard lives. Bannon was by far the most chubby woman amongst Brogan's suitors. With her flabby arm and carefully arranged hair that she had obviously spent some extra minutes patting to ensure that not a single strand was out of place on her red hair, she would pass off as neat, compared to Miss Applebum, the skinny woman next door that had to many cats and looks like she would need help crossing the road. A little girl watched from her small bedroom window, a little amused by Bannon's efforts to woo her father. When it came to quick aging, her father was not an exception but his feature remained attractive. He was tall, with very broad shoulders and a muscular arm, His sharp jaws and chiseled face didn't help him look any less intimidating. His face was covered with a week's worth of beards. Alana saw her father fidget and began to pity him. She knew her father hated the attention, especially when it came from admirers. Her mother died six years ago, leaving her alone with her father. She was only a day old when her mother died so she didn't know her enough to miss her But she could see how much her father missed her because he refused to speak about her. The only evidence about her mother's life was the life-like portrait her father hung above the fireplace in the living area. He believed looking at the portrait made her seem alive. But Alana couldn't ignore the emptiness she felt every time she thought about how her mother could've been. She made up her mind at that moment that she as going to get as much information from her father as she wanted. With a heavy sigh. she closed her worn out curtains and returned to her book. A few minutes later, she heard the creak from the rusted door hinges as her father entered their small, scarcely furnished house. The only beautiful thing about the house was the small fireplace that stood directly opposite the door. Alana looked exactly like her mother. Her skin was too pale and fiery red hair. Her eyes were the exact sea green color as her father. She had a small nose and plum lips. Everyone told her that she'd be too beautiful and her features would become too alluring, but Alana didn't want to be beautiful. She didn't want people to look at her and say; "You look exactly like your mother, except with your father's eyes". Alana left her room and went out to meet her father who was standing in front of the fireplace. Brogan couldn't take his eyes off of his wife's portrait. A tear escaped his eyes but he cleaned it off quickly as he heaerd hid daughter come into the living area. "She was so beautiful"; it was all she could say about her mother because it was all she knew. "Why won't you tell me about her?" Looking at the picture was enough but Brogan knew that he could not bear the pain that was bound to come with looking back at her life. "There is nothing to tell". That was the only answer she would get but she didn't want to give up today. She wanted to know everything she could about her mother before the sun set. "That is a lie papa", she was not scared because she knew that her father would never hurt her. "How do you think I feel, not knowing my mother. She carried me for nine months and i might be too young but i already know that she must have loved me. Why can't you just tell me about her for a little bit. Let me know about a little more than how beautiful she was". She could feel the tears running down her cheeks. Her father must have seen it because he began to talk. He told her how kind her mother was, how contagious her smile was, how authoritative she was. He told her everything he held in his heart. By the time Alana was ready for bed, Brogan felt a relief he never knew he needed. Relief that he had finally let out all the things he held inside. He did not know it, but talking to his daughter had made his heart lighter. Alana, on the other hand, could see her mother and imagine how life would have been with her mother in it. As she lay on her bed, she began to regret asking because now that she knew, the emptiness deepened.