Nava 1

Supper is boiled bacon and potatoes, and tea, cooked on my peat stove. After, a fast towel bath, with water heated on the same stove. A real bath will have to wait for Sunday Mass, just too much water to heat all the time.
Then I put on clean clothes and head for the local. Very end of the bar are two empty stools.
Bartender greets me, "Evening Eamon."
"Evening Padraig."
"Usual?" (he means a half pint of Guinness)
I nod.
As he pours, he asks, "so how's haying going?"
"Great, third crop this year. Just two more days and it should be dry enough to start cutting again."
He grins, "well, that's more time to cut peat. Reckon one can never have too much of that."
I nod, how true!
Most of the bar and one nearby table is taken up with the fraternity of ex-construction workers in Blighty, mostly London. Their stories get tedious, endless drinking and thumping "nancy boys".
I take out my ten pack of cigs, fire up one. Now anywhere east of the Shannon River that would be an act inviting the attention of the "Gestapo". Here we got our own ways. Tedious laws like bar closing hours tend to be honored in the breach, not in the observance.
A nearby table produces an interesting conversation to follow. And they are talking loud enough it ain't eavesdropping. Two lads from here, members of the British Army, home on leave, chatting with pals. Topic is the recent Cyprus tour of the First Battalion, Royal Greenjackets. It comes as no surprise that their tales of mayhem contrast sharply with the official UN line that all is well there.
Johnny, the local bootlegger, enters, sits near to me.
Bartender asks, "usual?"
Johnny nods. A pint of Guinness and glass of whisky are prepared.
Johnny grins, "so Eamon, how's haying? Like a change of scenery?"
"Be another two days before I can get back at it, been cutting peat. What you got in mind?"
Lowers his voice, "going to Ennis for a pickup."
"Thought it was Galway?"
Laugh, "cops are getting to know me and my car too well there. Arranged to pick up in Ennis this time. Come for the ride, we can play the horses together."
"How long you gone?"
"Two days."
I do the math. The max I can sink into this venture is 100 Euros. So, two nights in B&B, some food and at least a bit of drink. Leaves zilch to bet with. Pointless to go.
I blush, "Sorry Johnny, hafta pass, financial constraints."
"Go on, I didn't say we pay accommodation, it'll only be food. My uncle has a flat there, away on a short trip. I have permission."
I redo the math, decide with a bit of luck, I'll have a capital of 50 to bet with. Yeah, I can make that last two days. I grin, "let's do it then." After all, I don't own livestock, the hay I cut is for sale.
Waves his hand expansively, "gonna have one more round for the road, then we'll go. Want me to go to your farm, pick up gear?"
"Don't bother, if I buy a toothbrush and ten pack, I'm ok."
Well, four rounds later, in a hilarious mood, we part, after dark. We drive cross The Burren, a backroad no cop on earth would waste his time on. By the light of the quarter moon it seems eirie. Like we're the only two people on the lunar surface.
A loud explosion and sudden veering of the car tells me a tire has blown. It all seems to be in slow motion. In a perfectly calm tone, I say, "Johnny, suppose it might be wise to steer around that telephone pole?"
"Did anyone ever tell you boyo, when a car is airborne, it don't answer to its steering wheel?"
And so it is, we are both roaring with laughter when the car collides directly. Now one of those tedious laws we ignore in these parts is seat belt. In this case, it might have been wise to obey it. As in, I'm going through the windscreeen.

I wake with a throbbing headache. Not ready to open my eyes and deal with the world yet, I ponder. Go on, only had four. How would I have a headache? Right, the window.
Finally I decide that, if I really did go through it, then I feel remarkably good.
I open my eyes and discover myself to be in a bedroom done up schoolgirl fashion.
A face I don't recognize, but bearing a look of desperation, says, "Nava, talk to me, say something, anything."
Truth is, I don't know what to tell her.
She holds up one finger asks, "how many fingers?"
"One."
"And now?"
"Two."
She feels my forehead, "ok now, tell me your name."
"Eamon O'Riley."
She groans, "still a fever. Best to stay in bed. I imagine you picked up that name off the TV movie, it stuck with you. Just rest."
I hear footsteps, the closing of a door, the ringing of a portable or cellular.
Obviously unaware I can hear, she says, "well, good news and bad. Good is, least she woke up. Bad is, still a fever."
Pause as the other speaks.
"Oh yeah, you got that right, Delirious with a capital D. Strange stuff beyond belief. Endless comments on 15 years of various tours in the British Army. Places I'd find hard to find on a map, wonder how she did. And in language that would make a sailor blush. Horse race bets, hookers, drinking binges. Farming in Ireland. Some kind of road accident."
Pause.
The she laughs in a wicked tone, "and is she going to be ticked when she discovers the fever burnt up her whole Easter vacation, back to school with nary a break."
I groan inwardly. Go on, only one sensible course of action. This is a nightmare, it will pass, let it do so.
However, when I next awake the nightmare is still present. Climbing outa bed, I stare at the dresser mirror. Surely not!
And yet, the image in the mirror flawlessly executes every move I do.
She enters carrying a tray, "heard you up. You look much better, try and eat a bit."
As I do, she asks, with deadpan face, "remember anything of the dreams?"
Deciding ignorance is the best strategy, "no."
"Amazing, absolutely amazing. Now all along I believed you had no talent for history or geography stuff at school. And yet, I've looked up every time and place you mentioned. All is accurate, in clinical detail and then some."
I nod.
"And so, now I know this, I expect better marks in future. And all that horse race talk, I learned something else. You know much more math than you've been letting on."
Oh no.
"Sandbagging, that's what you've been doing. Let me assure you, as of school starting tomorrow, I expect real effort, real marks."
Jaysusmaryandjoseph, does it get worse? That's when I spot the Star of David on her necklace and realize it could get lots worse.
The doorbell rings and she leaves. A minute later, she calls, "it's Naomi dear, come on out."
Naomi and I are left alone in the living room as Mum(?) vanishes.
Quiet tone, Naomi says, "I don't see one ounce of recognition in those eyes. You don't even know who I am."
I give a goofy smile, "Naomi of course."
She grabs my collar, face inches from mine, quiet tone, "look moron, don't gimme that, you heard your Mum give the name. But still you don't recognize me. So, tell me the name of our school."
I squirm, realizing she has me pinned.
The very quietly, "I can see it in your eyes. She died and you ended up taking over. I would presume without your knowledge."
I nod.
"You have a hard look, totally different eyes. I'm guessing you've seen lotsa death."
I nod.
"Well friend, lemme tell you something. You don't get off easy, stuck with me. We're the only two Jews in James Bay Elementary and we da** well stick together."
I don't know whether this should make me relieved or upset.
"So tell me, how was it you died?"
"Sheer foolishness, ignoring seat belt laws."
Look of wicked glee, "after all and everything, that did you in?"
I nod.
"Nothing heroic, just that?"
Again I nod.
She shrugs, "well we're friends anyhow, detail can wait. I gather your Mum is right ticked with you, oh yes oh yes."
I blush, nod.
At that moment Mum emerges with a sadistic look and an obvious elementary math book.
Naomi turns to leave, I don't blame her for that.
"No, don't go," Mum says, "stay with us as we do some math."
It may look grim, but I've figured an angle. Blow about a fifth of the questions. It does the trick, turns that look of dead certitude into doubt.
After half an hour, Mum retreats in disarray and Naomi and I head outside for air.
She warmly wraps an arm round me, "work of art. If your Mum had figured, how long would it be before mine did?"
"You mean?"
"Bingo, you and I are guilty of the same sin, total laziness in school.
At that moment, I realize how lucky I am. Better a buddy and ally than not.
Her face takes a serious look, "you seem remarkably capable of outmaneuvering the enemy, where'd you learn?"
"British Army."
"Rank?"
"Sgt."
She grins, "cool, reckon you the equal or better than the original Nava in the game of dodging tedious teacherdom."
The word "tedious" touches me. Whenever I hear it, I know a kindred soul is likely nearby.
She grins, "just remember to do up seatbelts."
We both laugh.