No… To Benediction
Opened my eyes. Expecting restraints or a prison cell or both. Felt beyond ill. I was in a bed, a fresh, clean one. Tried to sit up and my heart reeled in terror. A black figure was sitting at the end of the bed. I must have shrieked; the figure spoke.
“Relax, Jack, you’re safe.”
Managed to focus, asked, “Fr Malachy?”
“’Tis.”
“What? How?”
“You’re at your mother’s.”
“Oh, Jesus.”
“Don’t take the Lord’s name in vain.”
My head was opening but I had to know.
“Are you living here?”
“Don’t be an eejit. Your mother called me.”
“s**t!”
“Watch that tongue, laddie. I won’t abide cursing.”
“So, sue me.”
I noticed I was wearing pyjamas, old comfortable ones, washed a hundred times, then said, “Oh God. I think these are my father’s.”
“May he rest in peace. Though I fea
