Aiden Connor leaves Belfast to do his senior year of high school in New Hampshire. Will he find America?
I repeat my favorite mantra from Hemingway: Write hard and clear about what hurts. School gun violence, and the failure of legislators to correct it.
Enjoy the story.
Looking for America
Bob Gillen
Aiden Connor set a cordless drill down on the stage floor, brushed sawdust off his jeans, and pulled his vibrating phone out of his pocket. He pushed his white beanie higher on his forehead as he read a message. A text from his father. Aunt Maeve says you’re a big help around her B&B. Proud of you, lad. Keep ‘er lit. And keep looking for America.
A girl with short dark hair and a baggy, paint-spotted orange hoodie called over to Aiden. “Hey, Irish. Nice work.” She pointed to braces Aiden had screwed to a scenery flat.
Aiden felt a blush rise in his cheeks.
“I’m Riley. Riley Reedy. A senior, like you. We haven’t had a chance to meet yet.” She held a paint brush as she stood in front of a scenery flat she was painting, a castle wall in grays and blacks.
“Aiden Connor.”
“How do you like living in New Hampshire?” She waved her brush in a circle.
“It’s cool. Lot to get used to.”
Riley set her brush down and wiped her hands. “You came over from Ireland, right?”
“This summer, right. Came from Belfast.”
“Why?”
“My aunt runs a B&B here. Her husband died. She needs help while she decides whether or not to sell the business. My father sent me.”
Riley pointed again at Aiden’s work. “You look like you know what you’re doing. Where’d you learn that?”
“My dad is a carpenter. Works on some film sets, too. Learned it all from him.” He reached for a handful of wood screws.
Riley continued. “What’s different here?”
Aiden shrugged. “I dunno. Here’s less diverse. We have a lot of immigrants coming in.”
He nodded at Riley’s paint work. “We got murals all over Belfast. Ever done any?”
“Last year’s play…I did a set-wide mural.”
Two boys approached from the backstage area. “Going to the cemetery tonight?” they asked Riley. When she said yes, they looked at Aiden. “You come too, Irish.”
Aiden looked down. “My aunt will be expecting me. I have her truck.”
Riley said, “Text her. Say we’re working late on the set.”
“Maybe.”
The boys turned away. Riley gathered up her paint gear and went to wash off her brush.
When Riley returned, wiping her hands on a clean rag, Aiden was staring at his phone. “Who’s texting you?”
“My dad.”
“Can I look?” Riley asked.”I’ve never seen a text from another country.”
Aiden shook his head, laughed. “They’re the same.” He held out the phone for her to see. Aunt Maeve says you’re a big help around her B&B. Proud of you, lad. Keep ‘er lit. And keep looking for America.
“What does he mean, ‘looking for America’?”
Aiden shrugged. “He keeps telling me to treat this like an adventure. To search for the real America. Not what we see on Irish TV.”
He texted back to his dad. Aunt Maeve’s great. Miss you, da. Building sets for a school play. Everyone likes my work. Learned it all from you.
Riley shoved her hands in her pockets. “My grandfather came over from Ireland. Don’t know what part. He owns a bar in New York City. Reedy’s. I went there once with my parents.”
An hour later Aiden followed Riley’s car in his aunt’s truck as they pulled off on a road that backed the local cemetery. They ducked through a line of trees and came to a small clearing. A bunch of students from the school play milled around.
“Riley!” A boy called out. He ran up to her.
“Hey, Joey.”
“Look what I got for my birthday.” He showed her a pistol that lay flat in his open palms.
“Is it loaded?”
”Nah.” He shifted, too excited to stand still.
Riley took the gun, pointed it down to the ground, and checked the feel of the weapon.
“Nice, Joey. Feels good in my hand. You’ll be tearing up the target range with this.”
Joey rushed off to show others his new gun.
“Lot to get used to,” Aiden said to Riley.
“No guns in Belfast?”
“Not like this.”
Another boy came by handing out cold beers. Riley took one. Aiden waved the boy off.
“You don’t drink?” Riley asked.
“Not this piss. It’s just water.”
Riley looked up at Aiden. She yanked the white beanie off his head. “Hunting season starts in three weeks. You’ll be a dead man in that hat.”
“More to get used to,” Aiden said as he stuffed the beanie in his pocket.
“I should take you hunting. I got a new scope for my rifle. Got my first deer last year.”
Riley noted that Aiden kept looking around, watching the perimeter of the clearing. “You nervous or something, Irish?”
Aiden remained silent for a few moments. In a hushed voice he said, “Don’t have a good history with cemeteries.”
“You got ghosts in Belfast?”
Aiden rubbed a spot over his right eyebrow. “You can’t see this in the dark. I have a scar. A Garda clubbed me one night. I was in a cemetery drinking with other fellas. The Garda came in swinging. I tried to cover one of my mates. I got clubbed. Four stitches.”
“What’s Garda?”
“Our police.”
“You’re okay here. No one bothers us. We know to keep it down.”
At home later, Aiden took a moment to text his dad. Hey Da. School’s okay. So much to get used to.
His dad replied right away. Fair play, lad. Keep looking for America.
Aiden fell asleep with a smile.
The next morning Aiden arrived at school an hour late. The kitchen sink in his aunt’s home had sprung a leak and he stayed to fix it. As he entered the school building, a security guard greeted him and asked to examine his backpack. Cleared, Aiden got a late pass from the office and headed down the hall to his classroom.
Aiden stopped cold. A young man with an assault rifle appeared at the end of the hall. As he turned towards Aiden, Aiden spun his backpack around in front of himself. The shooter fired down the hall, blasting three holes in the backpack. A teacher walking next to Aiden went down clutching his leg.
The shooter entered a classroom and began firing. Alarms rang throughout the building. Screams and the roar of gunfire obliterated the alarms.
Aiden dropped his backpack, helped the teacher to his feet, and half dragged him to the office. The security guard, gun drawn, ran past them in the direction of the gunfire. Office staff locked the door behind them and the school nurse immediately tended to the teacher’s wound. Aiden collapsed to the floor, sat there stunned as more gunfire rang out.
And then…silence. Broken by the PA system blaring, “Emergency. Please evacuate the building immediately. Gather out on the ball field.”
Aiden race-walked out of the building along with a horde of students, everyone holding their hands high. He sat down with his back against a chainlink fence and texted his aunt. I’m okay.
Aiden wrapped his arms around his knees, staring as students frantically texted their families and first responders screamed onto the campus. He spotted Riley staggering past and called out to her. She heard his voice, searched the crowd till she found him. Tears poured down her face.
She slumped down next to Aiden. “Joey’s dead. The shooter got him. Other kids, too.”
Riley sobbed as Aiden put his arm around her shoulder and held her. He had no words.
His phone vibrated. Aunt Maeve. I heard the news. Are you okay?
He answered, Yes. Fine. See you later.
Minutes later his phone vibrated again. His dad. Maeve says there’s a school shooting. Are you okay?
Aiden hesitated. He scanned the chaotic scene in front of him. Heard nothing but sirens and shouting. Riley continued to sob. He poised his thumbs over the phone keyboard.
I’m okay, Da. I found America.
***
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