Amber Alert: My Dignity Chapter 2

Dot Rat

Before we could head out for the night, we needed to pick up the third member of our posse; Pat. Born and raised in Dorchester by Irish immigrant parents, she developed a charm we all have come to love. Standing at just 5 feet 3 inches and weighing 100 pounds soaked in wet Pat compensated by becoming too loud, too aggressive, and too forward. While some would be put off by this attitude I was drawn to this feisty little Irish lass. We became friends on the rugby pitch and later roommates. We bonded over the realization that we can drown any problem in 40’s and a bag of Andy Capp’s Hot Fries. She knows that she can tell me I am being an asshole and that I will not take any offence because she is probably right, and I know I can tell her the same. She knows me better than I know myself and I know she, more than anyone, will always have my back.

As we pulled up to Pat's house I became increasingly more excited. I knew that equal parts Sam and Pat with a splash of me was a recipe for a good time. We entered Pat's house we were greeted by her mother, Theresa, sitting at the kitchen table, cigarette in one hand, a goblet of wine in the other, watching the evening news on the small TV perched on the counter.  Per usual, despite the fact Sam and I were already running late due to the hold up at my house, Pat was still not ready. We sat at the table with her mom, who like every good Irish host offered, no forced, us to eat and drink while waiting. Her mom poured more wine into her goblet, lit another cigarette on the gas stove, and sat back down at the table with us forcing Sam and I into an awkward conversation about a picture on the wall that went something like this…(directors note, Theresa has a slight Irish brogue so please read it as such…)

Theresa: “Girls, how old do you think my aunt was when she painted this picture?”

Me: “Um, I don’t know, 84?”

Mom: “Right! 96!”

Me: “Oh, I thought I said, 84?”

Mom: “That’s what I said, 96!”

Seeing the conversation was going nowhere I hollered up the stairs for Pat who, like a herd of 1,000 elephants came stampeding down the stairs. Despite her Irish heritage, Pat is blessed with the ability to tan. Standing in between Sam and Pat made me look like the filling in a double stuffed Oreo, but I did not care. I was just happy to be with my girls.  After many embraces I shuffled Pat and Sam out the door with her mom yelling at us from the kitchen to be safe as she spilled her goblet of wine.  We jumped into the car, windows down, music up and drove off without a care in the world. 

to be continued...