Mytwosentences 181

“Mam, you need to have your papers ready, and please, if you don’t mind, remove your hand from my table”.

Allie, who was ripe and quite fed up, slammed her other hand down and bellowed, “help me, for christ sake, please”… then her exhausted eyes rolled up to white ..and she collapsed.

(Photo: Edward Roads)

Written by Edward Roads

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Mytwosentences 180

Shill, the loyal man who worked at the seaside immigration table for more than 30 years, looked at yet another girl walking forward with a story in need of…

“Hi, my name is Allie… I just got off that rickety damned boat and I need someone to show me to a quiet place where I can think”.

(Photo: Edward Roads)

Written by Edward Roads

Mytwosentences 179

Allie, who hadn’t known a blip of happiness in more than 6 years, trundled toward a poorly shaved man that was seated and staring at all of the new arrivals.

She walked up to a scarred and ripped immigrant table, slammed her ivory soft left hand down on dirt and despair, and asked what she needed to do be a citizen in this new land.

(Photo: Edward Roads)

Written by Edward Roads

Mytwosentences 178

She found herself looking about as if she did something wrong, yet the timid Irish expatriate stepped onto American soil with a subtle, eyes down hope.

There was a well made oak and nails ziggurat, an intimidating wreck of an old school Irish hot head who neglected at the last minute to tell Allie, the fleeing mom, that her daughter wasn’t dead.

(Photo: Edward Roads)

Written by Edward Roads

Mytwosentences 177

She arrived at the shores of her last chance, after what the papers would eventually describe as a bumpy sea-ride and run.

The pier was lonely at the dock, her child, who she would never see again, lay lifeless back in Ireland as wretched memories misted New York Harbor.

(Photo: Edward Roads)

Written by Edward Roads

Mytwosentences 176

With eyes closed and a slightly slumped lean, Gia’s furrowed hands became a simple brace on the kin marble of her second floor kitchen counter.

She thought of her late father, his devotion to that blasted quarry, and his strange fondness for a rosebush, that seemed to bloom every damn year on their parched Italian countryside.

Photo: Edward Roads

Written by Edward Roads

Mytwosentences 175

She never listened to anyone, including her till death do us part dear friend Romo, who packed his 77 brown Nova and left for the sweet air confines of Northern Maine to escape her gripping disease.

It had been one time too many, something she wouldn’t understand, no matter how many times he told her, until she helplessly woke the following morning.

Photo: Edward Roads

Written by Edward Roads

Mytwosentences 173

During the battering storm, Anna and Sadie were playing, truthfully tossing, a 99 cent Wal-Mart ball back and forth on a small splotch of saturated lawn in front of their parents coastal home.

A quarter of a mile beyond the splash zone, an old wood-stapled pub opened on time with a below average drummer setting up his cymbals on a small smoke-beaten stage.

Photo: Michael Roads

Written by Edward Roads

Mytwosentences 172

In this night’s nightmare, buffalos were roaming and the sky was glowing and the upside down made every unfortunate sunrise sideways.

The cramped room, which none of us wanted, was hot and without atmosphere, and that made the lack of water even more intolerable than the last sip of last night’s cheap whiskey.

Photo: Edward Roads

Written by Edward Roads