Pool_2

been unturned. Some wedding, huh? Hmm. Well, at least I was the best actor who ever played me. I was rather good, wouldn't ya say O'Brien? I do a pretty good me." John O'Brien laughed one of those affirmative short nasal throat humphs with another head bob and a substantial sip from his glass. What John was drinking wasn't brandy, as Gaffy remarked, "Sucking the leaves right off the Bush?.. Don't go out on me, Johnny, I need your audience." Pausing in reflection, then addressing an empty alcove at the darkened far end of the room, "You know, I filled this vessel grandly yesterday? That corner. I dined right over there with a nice old Italian man whose eyes, I swear John, they peer through time and space, and with a huge black man who may very well be the mountain on which I was delivered. We were, the three of us, each men spit - not born - of fate. None of us were headed in the same direction. Get that, O'Brien? Differences in direction. But differences in direction can be those of convergence. That's gravity, a divine radiance. It's so cosmic! B'Jesus, is that the sign? Three streams fed and joined by will of a common imposition of externality, to carve a magnificent canyon in singular flow to the sea. Oh what a glorious moment it was."

McGuiness reflected, after a deep still, “Reconcilliation doesn’t suite me. But dressed in revenge, I am a well tailored man.”

He paused, considering his own assessment, sighed, then lowered his head. His voice of certitude failed. " Will God ever forgive me? Am I hopeless? Will I never earn my Caitlin? I tried, Johnny, I tried. I am not feathered as an angel, huh?" John O'Brien leaned forward reaching out to pat his hand, declaring, "God needs you Gaffy. .. If only as an honest critic."