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Post by pattydear on Mar 24, 2012 17:00:03 GMT -5
How was the part where his mother came to him in the night? Was it a little cheesy? I would honestly like to know.
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Post by Deleted on Mar 24, 2012 18:13:01 GMT -5
none of it was cheesy at all. I love it
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Post by meagab15 on Mar 24, 2012 19:38:46 GMT -5
update patty update soon please
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Post by celticbear on Mar 24, 2012 20:48:26 GMT -5
Loved the dinner conversation between George and Damo! But Most of all I love the fact that his Mother is still looking after him from Heaven!
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Post by pattydear on Mar 25, 2012 0:44:08 GMT -5
(Sorry everyone if this section is small.....)
The next day, at school, Damian sat down at his desk. He quickly got out a notebook and a pencil. “You don’t have to get ready that fast,” Cathleen said to him. “Classes start in ten minutes.” “Oh.” Damian glanced at Cathleen. She glanced back at him and said, “What did Sister Blandina say your name was? Damon?” “My name is *Damian*,” Damian replied. “Damian McGinty.” “I’m Cathleen,” Cathleen said. “Cathleen Cunningham.” “I know.” “How do you know?” “I saw it written on your notebook.” “Oh… I didn’t think about that, at all. Anyway, what school did you go to before you came here?” “I didn’t go to school.” “You were home schooled, then?” “No. I wasn’t even that. Maybe I went to some school somewhere when I was really little, because I knew a little bit about reading before my mother taught me.” “Were your parents too poor to afford an education for you, in that case?” “Poor? Do I… look poor?” Damian looked at his clothing, at his hands. “Oh, no, no!” Cathleen replied. “I hope I didn’t offend you. I shouldn’t have asked that.” “Well,” Damian said, “I’m not sure whether or not I was poor, or what. It all just happened.” Cathleen was silent for a little bit. She then said, “Being poor is awful.” She then quickly added, “Not that I know it by experience!” Throughout that school day, Damian and Cathleen continued chatting with each other. Damian found that Cathleen was very interesting to talk to, and that she had a good many things to talk about. Best of all, she shared the same interest he had in books. She had a great deal many favorites, though one of them (she blushed when she told Damian this) was *Wizard of Oz*. “I know I’m kind of old to still be interested in that stuff…” she started to say. “Maybe you are,” Damian said, “but that doesn’t matter. I still read *Perrault’s Fairy Tales*.” “Ugh! I hated those! They’re so… dark, and morbid.” “I know. But they’re interesting, or so I think…”
After school ended, Cathleen said to Damian, “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow… unless I’m sick, again. The doctor says with my illness, and the possibly heart issues that might come up, I… Oh, well. We’ll talk about it another day, maybe.” She smiled, and walked out of the schoolhouse towards a carriage that was waiting for her. Damian just stared after her. “Hey,” he heard a voice behind him say. He turned around to see Ryan. “You’re talking with the Cunningham girl?” Ryan asked. “Yeah,” Damian answered. “We sit next to each other.” “She’s very nice,” Ryan said. “Why, then, does… Never mind. There I go, thinking about other people’s business. I better go and mop a floor some kid vomited on today. See you later.” “Bye,” Damian said.
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Post by Deleted on Mar 25, 2012 12:52:18 GMT -5
this was a lovely and well written update. keep up the good work. update soon.
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Post by celticbear on Mar 25, 2012 21:39:04 GMT -5
Great update Patty! Glad Cat is opening up to Damo! And something tells me Ryan knows more about what's wrong with Cat!
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Post by meagab15 on Mar 25, 2012 21:39:28 GMT -5
update soon patty
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Post by pattydear on Mar 26, 2012 0:31:18 GMT -5
The next several days were wonderful for Damian as he got to know Cathleen. He started growing rather fond of her. Of course, she never noticed it and thought that everything he felt for her was purely platonic. At home, Damian would tell George about all that he and Cathleen would do together during the school days. Of course, one day, Damian did something that he wasn’t planning on telling George about. He actually *hugged* Cathleen! It was at the end of the school day. Cathleen was going to leave the schoolhouse, and go onto her carriage home. “Bye, Damian,” she said. “I’ll maybe see you tomorrow.” “Bye,” Damian said. He walked up to her, and ever so quickly, he wrapped his arms around her. He then let go. “Um…” Cathleen said. “I have to admit, all I can say is… Thank you. You don’t realize how much I’ve needed a hug lately.” She left. Of course, Damian couldn’t keep his later hugs a secret from George for long. You see, on the Sunday after that, right before Midday Mass, Damian said to George, “Oh, look! There’s Cathleen! She’s sitting over in that pew, right over there.” As he and his godson sat down, George said, “You never told me she was a Cunningham. There are her parents, and her five younger siblings, and her three older siblings. I met them a few years ago.” Cathleen looked as if she was in a daze. She looked at all of the people in the church house, and when she saw Damian, her face instantly brightened. She walked right over to him. “Oh, my word!” she said. “I never knew you came to this church!” Damian stood up, and was going to shake her hand… but she hugged him instead. “I have to go sit down with my family now,” she said. “It’s great seeing you.” She sat back down at the pew she’d come from. Damian sat back down next to his godfather. George said, “I see you’ve been treating her as nice as you say she’s been treating you… or else she wouldn’t have done that.” Damian blushed. All throughout Mass, Damo kept stealing glances at Cathleen. After Mass was over, he walked over to her. “Why aren’t you here normally?” he asked her. “You’re very religious, from what I can tell, and…” “Oh,” Cathleen said. “I normally attend the Morning Mass. The problem was, though, that today, my parents slept in, so…” She looked down at her feet, almost shamefully. “Goodbye.” She left the church house. Damian went over to the confessional and stood outside of it. George came out a few minutes later. “Are you ready to go?” he asked. “Yeah,” Damian answered.
Every day now, after school got out, Damian and Cathleen would hug as a way of saying goodbye. That, of course, made both of them happy, but for rather different reasons. One evening, during supper, Damian was talking all about Cathleen with George. Finally, George said, “My boy, are you having a case of puppy love?” “What’s that?” Damian asked. “That’s when you’re really young,” George answered, “and you have a simple, possibly even silly, crush on someone. Generally, those under puppy love are not truly romantically in love- it’s just like the affection of a puppy, that’s all. You’ll get over it soon.” Though he had been spoken to with understanding and kindness, Damian defended himself by saying, “I’m not having a puppy love, in that case! You just don’t understand how I feel for Cathleen, that’s all!” George just laughed. “You’re so funny, my boy!” he said. “Don’t feel like I’m attacking you- I’m just pointing out what I know by experience.” “‘By experience’ is a ridiculous thing for you to say,” Damian replied. “You don’t know how a young heart really feels, and why I love her so!” George laughed again. “Anyway,” he said, “I really ought to pay the bills and all, so I myself am done eating.” George left Damian sitting at the table alone. Paul came into the dining room just then. “Hey, Damo!” he said, smiling. He then saw how troubled the boy looked. “What’s wrong?” “George says I’m having a puppy love,” Damian replied. “Well, maybe you are,” Paul said. “You’re still immature in many areas.” “No, I’m not!” “Okay, okay… Calm down, now. Why does George say you’re having a puppy love?” “Because I love this girl at school.” “You mean Cathleen?” “How do you know?” “I learned it from Deirdre, who learned it from Keith, who learned it from Zara, who learned it from George.” “That’s not fair!” “It is, too, fair. Did you ever once tell George to keep anything you’ve said a secret? I didn’t think so. Therefore, it is my duty to know all of your beeswax.” “Anyway, back to the subject we were discussing, how is me being in love with Cathleen a puppy love?” “First of all, you say you’re in love with Cathleen, but is she in love with you?” “I don’t know.” “Bingo!” “That isn’t good evidence for George’s side of the debate, though.” “It is in my book.” “Not to get off of our subject… again… but you have a book? Your very own book which you wrote?” “Yep. I wrote it, Damo!” “Can I read it?” “No, sorry, you can’t.” “Why not?” “Because it’s in my head.” Damian frowned. (He was doing a lot of frowning this evening). “Paul, how do I know you aren’t changing everything you’ve written in your book?” “You don’t. You just have to believe that I’m a truthful person.” Keith walked into the dining room just then. “Hey, fellas!” he said. “Whassup?” “Damo is having a puppy love!” Paul said. “No, I’m not!” Damian said. “Why does everyone think I’m having a puppy love?” “Because of how you talk about Cathleen,” Keith said. “I *really* should watch what I tell George,” Damian said. “He keeps nothing a secret!” “You should have asked him to keep it a secret, then,” Keith said. Zara came in just then. “Oh, my goodness!” she said. “Keith, there’s a guy at the front door asking to see you, and he’s… so cute!” She jumped up and down and giggled. Keith left the dining room. A minute or so later, he came back in with a young man who had brown hair and precious dimples. Zara waved at the young man. She flashed him a toothy grin (and, by toothy, I mean that she still had all of her teeth, unlike her cousins in Arkansas) and snorted as she giggled. “Everyone,” Keith said, “this is my ol’ buddy Emmet here.” “Hi, Emmet!” “Hey, Emmet!” “Hiya, cutie… I mean, Emmet.” “How do you do, Emmet?” Emmet just stood right where he was, smiling shyly. He then looked at the dinner table. “Look!” he said. “There’s still some stuffing left!” “Would you like it?” Damian asked. “I think it’s gross, and George can’t finish it all before it spoils.” “Sure, thanks!” Emmet sat down at the table and scarfed down the stuffing. “You know,” he said, “this tastes delicious. Who made it?” “Deirdre did,” Damian answered. “She makes the best food ever.” After eating the stuffing, Emmet asked, “Can I have some mashed potatoes, please.” Damian passed him the mashed potatoes. After scarfing those down, Emmet asked for chicken. After that, he asked for the corn. Then he asked for the stirfry. George came in after a while. “Oh, my,” he said. “If I’d known you were coming any sooner, Emmet, I would have prepared you some food.” “Don’t worry,” Emmet said. “I already ate.” George looked at the table. “Who ate the rest of the stuffing?” he asked. “Damian, were you still hungry after I left to do the bills?” “No,” Damian answered. “I wasn’t hungry at all.” “Then who ate it? You know very well that the servants aren’t allowed to eat off of their masters’ table.” “If you caught one of the servants eating off the table, what would you do to him or her?” “Probably nothing. I’m not too strict when it comes to the rules. Still, who ate the stuffing?” “Emmet did!” Keith said. “Yeah, Emmet did!” Paul added. “It was the cutie who ate the stuffing!” Zara said. “Emmet,” George said, smiling, “did you eat the rest of the stuffing?” “Yes,” Emmet replied. “And,” George asked, “did you like it?” It was Emmet’s turn to smile. “Yes,” he said. George winked. He then left the dining room.
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Post by pattydear on Mar 26, 2012 17:45:43 GMT -5
A few days later, at school, Damian and Cathleen were sitting together at lunch and were having a most very interesting conversation. It got rather deep, and somewhat personal. Finally, Cathleen said to Damian, “I have a question to ask you. Can I ask it?” “Sure,” Damian said. “Well,” Cathleen said, “do you think I’m fat?” “Um… no.” “Do I look somewhat on the heavy side?” “No.” “What do I look like?” “I don’t know. To be honest, I sometimes think you eat far too little.” “I have to eat far too little, because I’m fat.” “If you were fat you wouldn’t fit into that dress.” “I know- and this dress is really big and baggy, yet it’s almost tight on me at times.” “Why do you think you’re fat?” “I don’t know. I just see myself in the mirror, and I think that. I don’t want to be fat, because my mom says I should be skinny. She says that if I’m not skinny, I’ll be fat.” “Not really. I’m neither fat nor skinny.” “But you’re a boy. Boys are different from girls, in a lot of ways.” Damian thought about what Cathleen had just said. He chewed contemplatively on the tuna fish sandwich Deirdre had made him. It tasted disgusting, but he wouldn’t tell her… ever. “You know what, Cathleen?” Damian said. “I don’t care if you’re skinny or fat- you’ll be pretty no matter what weight you are.” “Really?” Cathleen asked. “I thought fat girls weren’t pretty.” “Have you met any?” “Well, there’s my cousin Lucretia. I really like her. She’s nice. She got married a few months ago, now that I think about it.” “Well, since she’s married, obviously a man likes her and thinks she’s beautiful the way she is.” “No, not really. Lucretia had to get married for convenience, so everyone in my family could… Oh, forget it. Let’s pretend that she’s loved.” Silence. “Wanna come over to my house after school?” Damian asked. “I would like to,” Cathleen said. “I don’t know if I can, though. I’ll ask Jigs- he’s the guy who drives my family’s carriage.”
After school that day, Cathleen waited and waited for Jigs to drive up in the carriage. He didn’t come, though. She was waiting for him for two hours. She decided to walk home alone, then. She reached her family’s house after the sun had set.
That night, Damian was in bed reading a little bit of *Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man*. He was flipping through the pages, as it was a very wordy book. His brow furrowed as he tried to understand the small print. Suddenly, he heard a knock at the door. “Come in!” Damian said. In came George. “Damian,” George said, “I have to talk to you about something.” He sat down on Damian’s bed and looked seriously into the boy’s eyes. George said, “You know Cathleen? Yes, of course you know her. Well, her whole family, the Cunninghams, they have all now ended up in the poor houses.” “Um…” Damian didn’t know what to say. This came to him as a shock and as a surprise. “I learned this at work today, while listening to the town gossip,” George said. “They’ve been almost penniless for a while, most of them working hard in the early mornings and late at night, and they’ve finally gone bankrupt.” “But Cathleen never showed any signs of being poor.” “Maybe she was prideful and didn’t want you to look down on her for not having much money, so she hid that fact.” “But could her parents afford to send her to school, and to get a doctor when she’d be sick?” “I assume the church offered to take her family in for free- it can be philanthropic when it wants to be. Also, how do you know she wasn’t lying when she talked about the doctor?” “I guess you’re right. Today she said she felt fat, using that as a reason for not eating a lot. Do you think that that was a lie, also?” “Quite possibly so, my boy.” “Oh… Poor Cathleen. Poor, poor, poor Cathleen.” “I know. Are you all right, or does all of this news trouble you?” “I don’t know.” “Come here.” George stood up and opened his arms. Damian, cautiously, got out of bed and walked over to him. George wrapped his arms around his godson, who jumped a little in surprise. After George left, Damian got back into his warm bed. “What sort of bed might Cathleen be sleeping in now?” he muttered to himself. “Honestly, while I’m all rich and happy, she’s poor and sad. At least, I think she’s sad. I know that I was sad while I was poor.” He got up and went to the side of the bed, like he’d read in books that people do. “Dear God,” he said, “I know you might not be real and all, but George says you’re up there, and that you answer when people ask you things. My friend Cathleen now lives in a poor house, which is not a good place. I know it’s not a good place, because I’ve read about them in books, like *A Christmas Carol* and other stuff by Dickens. Anyway, please help Cathleen, and please make her happy and healthy and help her be loved and not be poor. Amen.” Damian made the sign of the cross (right shoulder to left shoulder, instead of the other way around). He then went back into his warm bed.
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Post by Deleted on Mar 26, 2012 19:20:19 GMT -5
I was right she wasnt getting enough to eat. I hope her family dosent have to live in the poor house long from what i have read they were horrible and terrible!! loved the updates. update soon.
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Post by meagab15 on Mar 26, 2012 19:56:07 GMT -5
<3 damian <3 damian update soon
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Post by celticbear on Mar 26, 2012 22:00:37 GMT -5
Poor Cat! Love the way you brought Emmet into the story! And George's reaction to finding out that Emmet finished off the stuffing and then some! I hope George and Damo find a way to help Cat at her family!
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Post by pattydear on Mar 27, 2012 17:09:11 GMT -5
Now that Cathleen was no longer attending it, Damian found no joy in school whatsoever. It became dull, and it became lonely. He tried to pay attention in it, but his mind would constantly wander off to Cathleen, wherever the poor houses were. One day, during lunch, as he ate by himself, he saw one of his classmates walk over to him. “Hey, Damian,” the classmate said. He was possibly a little younger or so than Damo, maybe just one year younger. His hair was blonde… or maybe it was brown. It seemed to change color a lot. “Hi, Daniel,” Damian replied to his classmate. “Where’s Cathleen been lately?” the classmate, Daniel, asked. Damian was about to answer, when he started to wonder whether or not Cathleen would like him to say the truth about the matter in public. “Well,” Damian said, “she’s… been sick again.” “Oh,” Daniel answered. “Is it serious this time? She’s been gone a while.” “It is serious- very, *very* serious. She might not survive this time. But, the doctors are doing the best they can. The best in the profession are attending to her.” “Like Doctor Badhealth from Gregorianus’s Sanatorium in London?” “Yeah, and Doctor Freud, Doctor Pavlov, and maybe even Doctor Asperger.” “She’s really lucky, then. Maybe she’ll live.” “I hope so.” Daniel, having been successfully fooled, walked over to where his own group of friends was eating.
The next day, during lunch, Daniel walked over to Damian again. “Why are you eating alone?” he asked. Damian replied, “I don’t know.” “Wanna eat with my friends and me?” “No, thank you.” Damian knew very well that Daniel’s group of friends consisted completely of boys, and he knew that schoolboys could be very mean, because he’d read about them in *Portrait of the Artist of a Young Man*. Schoolgirls were better- like Helen Burns, in *Jane Eyre*. Helen and Cathleen were alike- they were each nice to a school newbie. “Why not?” Daniel asked. “You like to be alone?” “No,” Damian answered. He instantly looked afraid, which Daniel noticed. “Can I sit here with you, then?” “If you want to.” Damian knew that Daniel was safe to sit with- he was typical, popular, but gentle, like Raoul from *The Phantom of the Opera*, who was the only character who mellowed down the frightening mood of the book. Daniel set his tin on the desk next to Damian’s and opened it up. Out of it, he pulled a sandwich that had something of a light brown color oozing out of the side. “Ew…” Damian said. “Is that raw mustard?” “No, silly!” Daniel replied, laughing. “It’s peanut butter.” “Oh! Even more ew! You see, Deirdre, my godfather’s cook, says that peanut butter takes the brains of children, and makes them the size of peas and nuts. That’s why it’s called peanut butter.” “Really? Don’t small brains like that cause their owners to be stupid?” “I guess so.” “That doesn’t make sense, then, because I’m the smartest guy I know.” “Well, maybe you’re just lucky.” “Anyway, why did your godfather’s cook tell you that? Do you visit your godfather so much that the cook is so familiar with you that she’ll get engaged into conversation?” “I live with my godfather.” “Oh… Are your parents dead?” “My mother is. My father isn’t.” “Then why don’t you live with your father?” “Um… I don’t know if I want to answer that.” “Oh. Sorry. I ask lots of questions, and I’ve been told before that asking a lot gets people into trouble.” “Don’t worry. It doesn’t upset me; it just makes me uncomfortable when I feel like I have to answer certain things.” Silence. “Now it’s time for me to eat my cookies,” Daniel said. “Would you like one?” After having it placed tenderly into his hand, Damian ate one. It wasn’t half as good as Deirdre’s. “What do you think of it?” Daniel asked. “It’s good,” Damian replied politely. He then started coughing. “Oh, my! There’s a burnt part there!” “Sorry,” Daniel said. He was laughing, though. “Are you going to survive?” Damian started laughing, also. “I don’t know,” he said. “Make a coffin for me, just in case.” “I’ll be sure to get a crucifix to put in your hands before you’re buried.” “Crucifix… like this thing?” Damian pulled out of his pocket the crucifix from his mother’s rosary. “Wow,” Daniel said. “Shiny…” “I know,” Damian said. “My mother used to keep it on a beaded necklace. When she died, I would wear the necklace, until it broke one day, and all of the beads scattered all over the place. This crucifix-thingy was all I could retrieve.” “How’d you break the… necklace?” “I don’t remember. I was still very young.” “Young, young, young… I liked being young. I want to go back to those days.” “I don’t. I hated those days. They were torture.” “They couldn’t have been that bad.” “They were. Don’t ask me why, though. Please don’t ask me why.” “Oh… Sorry. I didn’t think you’d respond like that.” Damian just sat there. A tear suddenly fell out of one of his eyes and down his cheek. “I’m so sorry!” Daniel said. “Please don’t cry! Please!” “I’m crying?” “There was one tear.” “That’s just one, therefore, it’s insignificant.” “It still upsets me… terribly.” “Have you seen many people cry before?” “No.” “That might be why it upsets you. Get used to it.” “I don’t want to get used to it, because I want the world happy.” “Just because the world doesn’t cry doesn’t mean it’s happy.” “I know. But can’t we pretend and be optimistic?” “Maybe. That’d be too hard, though.” “Why would it be hard?” “Because… Just because, that’s all.” Daniel rose up one of his eyebrows. Then he finished his cookies.
For the next few days, Daniel would chat with Damian. Many days, they would sit together at lunch. Other days, though, Daniel would go and sit with his other friends. One day, during lunch, Damian asked Daniel, “Where are some of the poorhouses in town?” Daniel almost choked on the spoonful of peanut butter he was eating. “Why would you want to go there?” he asked, with a look of shock on his face. “Because,” Damian simply said. “Well,” Daniel answered, “my father says that the nearest poorhouse to the school is on Happy Street. Then there’s the poorhouse on Joyful Street. Then there’s another one on Gleeful Street, then another one on Gay Street, and another one on Giddy Street.” “Um… What interesting street names.” “You aren’t going to go into a poorhouse, are you?” Damian shrugged his shoulders. At the end of that school day, Daniel said to Damian, “You *sure* you’re going home, and not going to get yourself up in a mess?” “Why do you ask that?” Damian replied. “Because,” Daniel went on saying, “during lunch, you never said ‘no’ to going to a poorhouse.” “What’s gonna stop me from getting in there?” “You really shouldn’t.” “Yes, I should. I’m going to do something nice for someone.” “Like what?” “None of your business.” “Oh, my word! I get it now! You’re a progressive, and you want to fight against poor working conditions!” “Not necessarily… If I was a progressive, though, what would be wrong with that?” “It’s just not traditional. Sister Martha warned us against leaving good, biblical traditions.” “What’s unbiblical about fighting against poor working conditions?” “It’s just… Oh, bother!” Damian started walked. He made his way towards Happy Street. “Don’t follow me!” he said to Daniel. Of course, Daniel followed Damian, and Damian knew it. Eventually, they started walking side by side. By the time they got to Happy Street, they saw a giant stone wall with a gate. Over the gate were the big words “Harrison’s Workhouse for the Poor”, and under the big words were the small words “Giving the Needy Jobs for Two Decades by Now”. By the gate was a rope. Damian pulled it, hearing the sound of a soft bell. A man appeared behind the gate. He opened it, and let the boys in, with a wicked grin on his face.
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Post by meagab15 on Mar 27, 2012 18:00:24 GMT -5
oh no update soon
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