What do you think?
Rate this book
240 pages, Paperback
First published March 12, 2019
Inside, signs in English and Irish directed people with European Union passports to the left, non-European Union passports to the right. The Americans from our flight stood stranded in a long line, but I walked right up to an immigration officer. I peeled my clammy fingers from my Irish passport as I handed it to the officer.
The immigration officer flipped through the empty pages, then raised an eyebrow at me.
"Um, I'm visiting my dad," I said.
His brow inched higher. My cheeks warmed.
"Welcome home, then," the officer said.
My Physics Club T-shirt was mostly dry. He draped the dripping hoodie over the radiator. I sat on his neatly made bed. Each mattress spring poked me. A British flag hung right next to me. At the foot of the bed was a shredded poster; one piece had a soldier with a medic armband.
"Will you take tea?" Danny asked.
"I don't drink tea." I just wanted some tape to fix his dream.
"Right, yous threw it all in the Boston Harbor."
Dad stopped a yard from me. His weary hazel eyes, spotted with green, looked me over.
As much as I tried to picture Dad's sordid past―fingers nestled in blue-and-red wires making bombs; wearing the ski mask, sunglasses, and the beret with the Easter lily; shooting at British soldiers―I couldn't. Right after I was born, he'd held my whole body in his hand.