Mary's Lucky Day

MARY'S LUCKY DAY
Carol St. Ann

w/c approx 1050

Mary brushed her hair and looked in the mirror at her gaunt face. The illness had taken its toll on her looks and her purse. Gazing deeper into the reflection she furrowed her brow at the sight of her son, sitting at the kitchen table in the other room. Poor Liam, what would happen to him if she couldn't find a job? As it was, they were living on charity. She smoothed out her skirt and pulled her brown hair into a ponytail and tucked a few wayward grays as best she could. A bottle of hair color would cost ten dollars she didn’t have. Lipstick helped, but her eyes were dull from malnutrition. She needed to plump-up.

"There now," she said, forcing a cheerful tone for Liam's sake.

She walked to the kitchen with as much energy as she could manage and poured some donated cereal into a bowl. "Here you go. The man on TV says it's magically delicious."

"Oh, the man on TV says it's magically delicious, does he?"

"Who said that?"

"Said what, Mommy?"

"The man who said what I said."

"The man on TV?"

"Never mind. Just eat your breakfast." Mary shook her head. Voices, great! Just what she needed.

Liam ate his cereal and wiped the milk off his lip with his sleeve, but she didn't have the energy to fuss. She'd mention it at dinner. He jumped from his chair, picked up his backpack, gave her a kiss, and headed for the door. Mrs. O'Neill, from down the street and her son, Danny, waited outside to escort him to school. Liam turned back and gave a quick wave as they headed off.

Mary sat down with her calendar and a cup of coffee. Only one interview today, another one tomorrow. If she could get both jobs, she'd be able to pull them out of debt. One job would mean they could at least stay in their cozy two-room apartment, and there was the food bank for food. Even in her weakened state, Mary was determined to find a way out of this. There were so many who needed the charities more than she did, especially now that she was feeling better. She'd look until she found a way.

"Mary McAloon, I've a bone to pick with thee."

Mary jumped and looked around. "Who IS that?"

"It's me. J. Patrick O' Malley. And if ya don't mind, I'd appreciate it if you'd pay some attention to what I have to say."

Mary put her head in her hands and whimpered. "I'm losin' it."

"Oh, hush. You're not losin' anything. Come and listen to me now."

"Okay, I'll play. Where are you?"

"First, give me your word you won't try to catch me."

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!"

"And I'll be thankin' you if you'd refrain from taking the name of the good Lord in vain."

"I beg your pardon." Mary looked heavenward. "Beg pardon, Lord. And as long as we're speaking, I could use a little help here."

"That's what I'm trying to tell you, Mary McAloon. Help IS here. Now, make that promise, or I’ll have to go."

"All right! I promise I won't try to catch you."

"And stop your whining. I'm here to help."

"Okay. Good. Come out, come out, whatever you are."

"Here I am, Dearest."

"Where?"

"Over here. By your teacup."

"It's coffee." Mary glanced down and her breath caught in her throat. " Oh. My. G--"

"Eh eh eh." He waggled a crooked finger. "No taking the Lord's name--"

"Right. I won't. But you're a...a..."

"Leprechaun." He jumped over her coffee cup and landed in front of her. With great elegance and finesse, he whipped off his top hat and bowed, peering up at her through thick auburn brows. "J. Patrick O'Malley at your service."

"Nice to meet you, O'Hallucination. Now please hand over your pot of gold, solve all my problems, and show yourself out. I have things to do."

He drew a tiny handkerchief from his breast pocket and dabbed his eyes. "Now, you've hurt my feelings."

"I'm sorry. I'm just so tired."

"I know you are. And I'm too sensitive. Aw, listen here, I know the injury caused the sickness and the sickness cost your job. Medical bills ate away your savings. You're worried you’ll lose your and wee Liam's home."

Mary nodded, hopelessness raging through her.

"Don't lose faith, Dearest. You're not alone. We've kept a close eye on you. We know the accident occurred while you were helpin’ others."

"Yeah, well, no good deed goes unpunished, right." She slammed her coffee cup down and stood.

"Sit yourself down." His stern voice captured her attention, but the chair moving at the wave of his hand captured it more.

"Oooo-kaaay."

"Now, I won't have any more of this punishment talk. The good Lord says it rains on the just and the unjust. Everything has a purpose, Dearest, and your illness was a way to make you take a rest."

"Yeah, well, I'm resting myself and my son right into homelessness."

"I've come to remind you of that thing your dear mother used to say when you were a wee girl and you'd over-do things and get run down. Do you remember?"

"She 'd say, 'Stop, look, and listen.' Then she'd sing 'Toora, loora, loora' and I'd fall asleep."

"And when you woke?"

"I knew everything would be all right."

"So you did. And was it all right?"

"Yes, it was."

"So it was."

”And you’ve come here to tell me everything will be all right. Is that it?”

“So it is.”

"Thank you, Mr. O' Malley."

"Call me, J. Patrick," he said with a wink, and he tossed a gold coin up into the air. "Here. Catch."

Mary's eyes followed the coin, and she stretched out her hand to grab hold of it, but the minute it touched her palm, it vanished. She turned to her littlest friend to ask why, but he was gone.

Mary chuckled, picked up her purse, and headed out the door with a new energy to her step. She was more confident than ever that she would get that job, for she knew her luck had changed.

And so it had.