Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
" the great plan"
✤ ✾ ✤
. . . SUMMER, 1975
MAEVE BYRNE sat on the back step of the pub, wasting her fifteen minute break.
On the other side of the wooden door behind her, she could hear glasses clinking in between bouts of the live music. It was all just one long drone of noise. She wanted to go home and sleep.
From her pocket she withdrew the single cigarette she had saved in the pocket of her uniform apron. It was unscathed even after four hours of bussing tables. With a shaky hand, she lifted it to her lips and illuminated her lighter. She had hardly taken a full inhale when the door swung back open.
"What are ya doin'?"
Maeve dropped the cigarette in shock. Spit caught in her throat as she struggled for a response. "I'm on break!"
Declan, the owner of the pub, crossed his arms over his chest. "Who gave ya that?"
Maeve frowned. "I nicked it from my older sister." Untrue. Aofie wouldn't risk ruining her perfect skin with even one whiff of a cigarette. Nola, one of the waitresses, had given it to Maeve after she had begged and begged. Declan was already running a risk with a fifteen year old being paid under the table. If he found out Maeve was also bumming cigarettes off of his real employees, she could kiss the chances of a job next summer goodbye.
He just grunted in response. "Your break's over. There's a mess in section three."
"Grand," Maeve seethed under her breath.
Three hours and hundreds of dirty dishes later, Maeve rode home through the late August twilight. The kitchen light was still on when she parked her bike next to the garage. Quietly, she pushed open the door and gingerly shut it behind her. Her foot met the floor board by the doormat and it let out a tell-tale groan.
"Maeve? That you?" Her dad called from the kitchen.
"Yeah," Maeve answered as brightly as she could muster.
"Are you too knackered for some dinner?"
She could already smell it wafting in. Chicken, warm bread, and something that smelled a lot like apple pie. Her dad stood over the oven and lifted out a full plate heaping with food.
"We ate early, but I saved you out a plate." He set it down in front of her at her spot on the table.
Maeve picked up the fork and began to devour the meal. After seeing so many bits of half-chewed food and dirty drink glasses, she was always surprised at how quickly her appetite returned. As she ate, her dad took the wooden chair across from her and sat, folding his hands in front of him.
