Testing the waters - the first chapter - thoughts?

To my dear Patrick,

It has been nearly 12 months to the day since I last heard from you; my heart swells at the thought of you not responding to me. What tortures you must have to endure every time you see that white sickle envelope arriving on the doormat. I wonder do you have to engage the letter like a solider undercover, having to hide it and if discovered the stories you spin to cover the content. Does your heart fill with love and dread all at the same time as mine does. Of course, I also have to look on the realistic side of life now, time does not allow for dreams anymore, not like it used to when we first were entangled in each other’s hearts, mind and well let’s face it bodies. Do you remember when we first met Patrick, do you?

A crisp Autumn day in southern Ireland, I was shivering walking from the church after yet another long mass, Sunday mornings always had a certain awe of mystery for me, especially at this time of year, a huge grey building that towered over even the tallest of men, my mother and I walking up those few steps, and even though it was just six of seven steps my Mothers plump rose cheeks filled with rouge and she puffed up to get inside not to miss her seat, as if that particular seat was assigned to her, I always found that hilarious. After Father Cormac finally said Go in peace I knew the hike home of a tiny hill for me and a mountain for Mother awaited, but first a trip to the local shop, Furlongs, surely my Father had left instructions for fags and tea to be got, where ever my Mother was supposed to magically find money is beyond me, however off we set down those holy blasted steps and there you were looking up at me, grinning as if to taunt me for my good nature of helping my Mother. A Ginger head of hair that in a small village like our’s branded you a tinker or a certain family, however you were neither. Do you remember what you first said to me, “take your eyes of her for a second and she’ll role away”, I thought that you were callus and rude but the most beautiful person I had ever seen, freckles on your nose to the wrinkle under your lip, I thought you were magic envisioned in human flesh, magical, purely magical. A wink and a glance down my clothing right to my shoe wear and you turned and ran to your Father’s side, I looked ahead of the road walking slightly behind my Mother for fear she would notice my almost yearend for this new presence within me, I looked over my shoulder and there you were looking on, you smiled again and winked, I turned sharply back around, looked to the ground with almost embarrassed mint, although my tender 14 year old cheeks were stained red with the cold of the morning, I do believe that was the first time I had blushed due to you and only you. Walking briskly on to catch my Mother who in fairness had made quite a long way off I came to the cross road to the shop which we were destined, mother asked what was holding on to me this morning, never had she seen a church hold a grip to me of a Sunday morning, I said nothing, just nodded and smiled at a powerful woman I admired, you drove smartly passed in the backseat, you father William waving on to show an Irish kindness as all men at the time did, you looked and me and again that toothy grin, you waved goodbye, I blushed again catching myself and turning from your view, then the back of the car, I looked on in almost giddiness, Mother barked to hurry up, as my dear Father waited for what the usual was to be serve to him on a Sunday morning, I thought how nicely to start a morning, hearty gospel about the Parting of the river and praise for our maker followed by a childes crush born a new, oh the priest wouldn’t approve, I walked on smiling delighted for what awaited for me, for the rest of that day., and the days to come.

Chapter 1.

“THOMAS”, “THOMAS”, “GET UP IT’S TIME FOR SCHOOL!!!!!!”. I blinked open into a ragged picture of sleep and a white ceiling, god I hated Monday mornings, another day ahead of school, first year was just hell, especially in a country secondary school and the common wailings of my mother every morning did nothing to brighten my day, the usual tasks began, turned the radio on, spice girls wannabe, kind of cool I thought and then straight out the window I peered to see if he was waiting yet, but no, unlike him to be late, I always was but he was punctual I envied that about him, throwing on a tired uniform I took to the stairs into the kitchen, Dad sitting in the chair drinking tea and mom at the cooker, “Gota Go”, “hey are you gona eat something”, “nah, get something on the way”, “Cya later then”, not exactly the great family mornings you see on those American TV shows but it was home to me. Running down the yard of our three bedroom council house he still wasn’t there, I felt a little annoyed he hadn’t mentioned that he was taking the day off or anything, the turning I seen him running down the road towards me, half dressed, bag dragging the ground