Taria Karillion

FICTION Authentic FICTION Blissful

A Longing for Bananas

      "Michael! … MICHAEL! … STOP! "

I snapped back the blowlamp with a revile that my Mama, God rest her, would've cut my ear for. My coworker pushed up his welding veil.

He yelled through the gnawing, pungent blasts. He shook his head and ran his enormous hand over his salt and pepper jaw. "What the divvel would you say you were playing at, chap? A welder can't get occupied - particularly hung from a shipside at this level! Awaken, chap, or you won't be seeing Christmas, never mind 1912!"

"Much obliged, Seamus." I grasped the unpleasant ropes and switched off the murmuring blowlamp. I'd have crossed myself, yet the support was influencing fit to bring breakfast back.

He was right, obviously. However, I really wanted to look back across the dock once more … and moan. Against the shipyard, sky and structures - all similarly dim and dingy - the brilliantly painted containers being dumped were minimal square chunks of delightful. Colors that could never be utilized in the front parlor, even - extraordinary and exciting and striking against the Guinness-shaded arms of the men carrying them. The sight held me with an interest I was humiliated to own up to. How was it where they came from? Everything except dark, I'd bet. They'd enlightened me one time concerning the trees and birds and untamed life and music, and my brain had been in a portion of a daze over it for a really long time. From that point forward I continued to think, consider the possibility that -

"MICHAEL! … Fantasizing once more, right? Get your head straight, chap!

Earthy colored paper concealed a brown, buttered outside layer, a brown bubbled egg and a dull, earthy colored chestnut apple.

Seamus was careless, perusing a fluttering paper and mumbling about unionism and Home Rule - I was worn out on the catching wind of it.

Try not to let on to the gaffer yet, however, eh? ... I could check whether I can get entry with the darkies - hauling can't be excessively hard assuming they're singing a portion of the day as they do."

"Shows what you know, fellow." he murmured through a significant piece of pie.

Kingston, New Orleans, New York, they generally sound so amazing... invigorating and bright and overflowing with life, and … and variety! Indeed, even their food - have you seen the fascinating natural product? ... I truly like those exceptional, thrilling yellow ones..."

"Bananas?"

"Yes, bananas! They're like... … like little cuts of daylight!"

As though to underline the point, it began to rain.

A deafening whistle brought me back from my fantasy. A young lady's voice was calling through the dockside uproar.

"DA! … You failed to remember your tobacco, Da! … Lower a bucket and I'll send it up!"

It was Seamus' little girl Kathleen, looking a genuine picture in the Sunday best strips that she normally put something aside for Mass - their distinctive green as greatly beautiful as the long, shined copper twists they held.

She waved up at us, grinning that delightful, bright grin. In any case, knowing how wildly defensive of his main girl Seamus was, I wouldn't even come close to waving back or reply.

Yet, amazingly, he tapped my boot with his own.

"Continue and wave back, chap! ... Or on the other hand did you figure I didn't realize it was you as gotten her those strips?"

My lungs felt like they were battling each other briefly, and perhaps it was the influence of the support, however my stomach hurled itself entirely into the fight as well.

Seamus pulled up the bucket and stacked his line bowl, tending to it more than me.

He took a gulp of his tea and we waved Kathleen off. She grinned up at me… and briefly I forgot about where I was. The shock that her Da could allow me to court her made me smile like a moron.

Sunday? After Mass? Nothing extravagant, mind, however herself'll make a cake probably... What do you say?