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Post by CelticCailín on Nov 19, 2011 19:37:39 GMT -5
I got up, and carefully picked my way over to Damian.
'Can we go for a walk?' I asked.
'Sure, it's hot in here.'
We left, and it was pleasant out, not too cold, not overly warm for mid-November. A chill hung about in the air, and the sun was starting to burst out from behind the ever-present cloudy overhang.
Our shoes crunched as they came into touch with the cold cement.
'I'm gonna do it, if you're still up for it.' I confessed.
'Of course I'm still up for it, I'm glad they could convince you a bit more. Oh, and Sharon gave your man with the big mouth at PEOPLE a good straightening out. I have a copy of what's to be printed next issue. Look.' he pulled out a folded piece of paper from his jacket pocket.
It read, 'As per the last issue's headline story; it has been sourced that the writer had made a flaring error in noting that Mr. Mc Ginty's significant other was going to die. We offer our most sincere apologies on this matter.'
'Sharon's a grand one to have in your corner, that's for sure.' I mused.
'Aye, you couldn't be more right about that.'
'It feels.. Christmasey. Already! Every year, Haloween, then Christmas is shove down yer throat for two months.' I pulled a face.
'Marketing schemes, Dee. I like Christmas, 'tis a time for happiness, and family and being together.'
'Ya sound like a card out from Waterstone's! But I have to agree with what you said.' I agreed.
Suddenly, his eyes grew wide. I followed his gaze, and laughed when I saw what had attracted his attention.
Starbucks. Again! Would he never tire of the stuff?!?
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Post by CelticCailín on Nov 19, 2011 20:08:27 GMT -5
Apparently the answer to my silent question was no. He ordered the same coffee he got every single time. Usually I'd a coffee, but I opted for tea instead. He got a giant cookie to go with his coffee. Some days, I wondered if part of his appetite had come from those years with Keith and the guys. I laughed, and he shot me a sideways glance.
'What?' he asked, in between bites of white chocolate macadamia cookie, gulps of coffee, and trying to talk.
'Nothing. You're the same as always, you know that right?'
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Post by CelticCailín on Nov 20, 2011 1:13:33 GMT -5
The Look is so powerful that it can be sent through cellular phone. Yeah, Damian is who he is, and that's who he'll always be.
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Post by CelticCailín on Nov 20, 2011 12:29:09 GMT -5
'Did you expect me to be different, now that I'm living in L.A. and working on Glee?' he asked.
'No, but I know how some famous people can get after awhile.'
'You don't have to worry, I'll never be an over-inflated, fake, egotistical airhead. Because if I ever did start getting a big head, Emmett, Conor, and the guys and everyone else would knock sense back into me real fast. More to the point, that's just not who I am as a person. I won't let this change me, I promise.'
'That's true, Emmett did tell me that once what he would do if ya came back with a huge ego.' I confessed.
'Knowing him, he wanted more in so I'd get more sense back.'
'Too right.' I agreed.
My phone rang shrilly. People turned around and looked because of the ringtone. 'It was him' I mouthed, and they laughed quietly.
I picked it up and answered it before checking the caller ID.
'Hello?' I answered.
'Dierdre, it's Dr.Connolly. I've heard about that you want to go ahead with the transplant, and so does that lad of yours.'
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Post by meg_cahill21 on Nov 20, 2011 18:35:19 GMT -5
UPDATEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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Post by CelticCailín on Nov 20, 2011 19:37:11 GMT -5
'Yes. In my defence, it was his idea..' I said.
'I don't care who brought it up. I don't think it's a particularly good idea, but sometimes things don't go the way we hopes they would.'
'And that means...?' she was talking circles round me now.
'I'm willing to give it a chance. I'm not promising anything, I told you that already. But I will give it my best efforts, since Mr.Mc Ginty is so insistent on it.'
I held the phone away from my mouth.I shot Damian my version of the Look.
'What did ya do, bribe her or something?!?' I demanded to know.
'Well, I wouldn't call it bribery when it's to save somebody I care about.'
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Post by HburgEagle44 on Nov 20, 2011 21:15:11 GMT -5
haha okay, what's wrong with the ringtone?? anyway...I loved the updates! I hope it works!!!!!! (haha her version of The Look. I love The Look.) Update!
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Post by CelticCailín on Nov 20, 2011 21:27:05 GMT -5
Nothing, just that random people in Starbucks don't expect to randomly hear happy birthday sweet sixteen, I don't know. Yes the Look *cue dramatic duh duh duh*
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Post by CelticCailín on Nov 20, 2011 21:28:35 GMT -5
'For Jaysus sake Damian Joseph! What did you do?!?' I was getting annoyed now.
He sighed.
'Okay, I uhm
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Post by celticbear on Nov 20, 2011 21:29:38 GMT -5
Deidre! What in the world did Damo do to get Dr.C to agree to do the transplant! Love how Dee gave Damo her own version of *The Look* and it worked! I hope this plan of thiers works!
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Post by CelticCailín on Nov 20, 2011 21:39:51 GMT -5
'Okay, I umm... Well it wasn't just me, it was everybody. We donated €10,000 to the oncology department. She said they needed it, and I thought it would help not just you, but future people. I don't want anybody else going through this too.'
'That's a lot of euros...' was all I could say.
'Any way to help, even indirectly, I wanted to take. And we did.'
'Yeah, I can see that!' I answered.
'She's still on the phone with you, right enough.'
I'd almost forgotten about the phone call! I hastily got back on the line.
'We have a date set for the transplant. December 24th.' she told me.
Christmas Eve. If all went well, my life would very well be my Christmas present this year.
'Okay, thank you. Goodbye.' I hung up, pressing the 'end call' button. Just as I'd hung up, his phone rang.
'H'lo, Damian speaking.' he answered politely.
His expression became very serious. He 'ah hah-ed, mmh-hmmed, and yes, sir.' was what I heard.
'Who was it?' I asked, half knowing who it was.
'Ryan Murphy.'
'What did he say?' I was worried about what had been said. Would he be fired now that he was possibly staying home for longer? In my opinion, he needed a well-deserved break. After all, he had only been home for four short weeks out of the last long fifteen months.
'He said I need to be back by the 5th Janurary, or I don't have a job.'
'I'm beginning to really dislike that man, you know that? I should get Sharon to show me how to give the Look over the phone sometime, would be very useful right about now..' I muttered, half angry.
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Post by CelticCailín on Nov 21, 2011 21:11:31 GMT -5
'Hey, calm down. I know he seems unreasonable, but he's a good guy.' he tried to convince me.
'Riiggght.' I rolled my eyes.
'Im being serious.'
'What exactly did you tell him when he said you'd to be back by the 5th Janurary?' I pressed him for answers.
'I told him that I hold my job very high up on my list of priorities, but not quite as high as my family and friends.'
'Sound reasoning.' I had to admit, it was a persuasive answer.
'I've been known to make sense once in a while.' he joked.
'Yeah, you do that upon occasion.'
I stared down into my cold tea, one third of it still in the paper cup. He'd finished his giant coffee, and his huge cookie, I knew he was still hungry. That was usual, the bottomless pit was never fully satiated.
'Let's go, it's hot in here.' I suggested.
We walked out of the coffeeshop, and along the River Foyle, and stopped at the Derry Quay, gazing across the river to the Protestant side of the walled city.
'Its a nice view. An acquired taste, the North is. But once you're bit, you don't wish to be anywhere else.' I said.
'True. It's a class of it's own, the North. A different kind of beauty, a different, troubled, and scarred past this land has, but it's home. And home is where is the heart is, or so I'm told.'
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Post by CelticCailín on Nov 22, 2011 21:44:55 GMT -5
I agree. Couldn't have said it better myself.' I agreed.
I sang an old John McCormack song, a few lines, quietly.
'Will ye bury me on the mountain, with my face to God's rising sun.'
'I never did really fancy that tune, especially not now.' he confessed. The early evening shadows cast dark spots over his face, bt his hair and eyes were brightened by the orange, warm, brilliant glow of the setting sun.
'I know you didn't. And I never really did like that Kermit song.' I teased, only trying to get a rise out of him, he was being too serious lately; I wanted to see the laughter sparkle in his eyes, hear his low laughter. The old Damian he was before this happened.
'Its not easy being green, always the colour of the leaves. But green can be tall like a tree, or important like a mountain.' he sang out loudly, in that irresistible low baritone of his.
'Okay, now you're just trying to show me up! We both know I can't sing to save me life, you on the other hand, Mr.Professional Singer and Actor.'
'Now, that's Mr.Professional Rory Flanagan Singer Actor to ye!' he slagged back.
'Oh but of course, your Majesty.' I did a mock curtesy, and knelt down and waved my hands up and down.
'I am not worthy of you, oh Green One! I am but a follower of your Highness.' I said sarcastically. I was getting a kick out of this!
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Post by CelticCailín on Nov 23, 2011 19:18:12 GMT -5
'Hey, it's getting dark. We should be heading back now, don't ya think?' he asked, suddenly not in a teasing mood anymore.
'Yeah, I guess so.'
Away from the River Foyle we padded away down back through the streets and lanes, bustling with lights and teeming with lights and shoppers. After all, it was the Christmas time of year. Christmas.
When I had been younger, I had believed in the magic of Santa Claus, believed in faeries and pixie dust. I had believed that miracles were possible, that the wrongs of life could be instantly put back to rights by a prince. Now, the older me had cast away the faith in Santa and elves, flying reindeer. But I was discovering there was something to be learned from childish, blind, pure and unwavering faith in something or someone that you cannot see, but know is there; somehow or some way.
I knew now that maybe princes riding on their white trusty steeds do exist after all; hadn't I someone who would stick by me, no matter what? How many could say that much? Not only that, I had started again to put my faith in what I couldn't see, in the blind, unwavering hope that a miracle would happen. Not just for me to save myself, for everyone who ever needed that little bit of reassurance that someone, somewhere in the big wide world cares for them, to know that they matter to somebody, that princes who slay the terrifying dragons and princesses who are lovely and grand still exist out there. That fairy godmothers do grant wishes, that to believe is the most powerful and scary thing that we can ever do.
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Post by CelticCailín on Nov 25, 2011 17:15:43 GMT -5
'Wooo, hello in there? Earth to McCann?' he was waving his hand in front of my face.
'What? Oh. Sorry.' I snapped back to the present, out of my odd thoughts.
'You're thinking hard. Again. What's eating at ya now?'
'Actually nothing. I was just thinking how lucky I am.' I answered honestly.
'Lucky?' he repeated.
'Yes, lucky like Lucky Charms. Even though this sucks to go through, at least I'm not doing it alone. I have all you guys. Not everyone can say that.'
'Right you are. But please stop worrying so much. Don't tell me you're not worrying an thinking about the outcome because I know you are. Whatever happens, happens. And if we've anything to say about it nothing will end up in a bad way.' he assured me.
'I can't promise I won't worry, that's akin to telling Keith not to eat, or you not to watch Man U play.' I argued.
'Fine, I can't argue against that, Keith wouldn't survive without food, I shudder to think of me without football to watch.. Eeh!' he shuddered away the image of a Keith with an empty fridge, and him with no tele to scream at how much Man U is better than Liverpool or Chelsea.
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