Kerry Says

It’s too damn hot to be this angry, but he’d gotten himself good and outraged and even the blanket of wet smog over the city could not smother it.

Something has his Irish up. Even from the other side of the party she can see his index finger jabbing accusingly into the arm of young David standing to his left.

“How can anyone get that worked up at a toddler’s birthday party?” Lila asks her daughter gesturing towards her Henry and trying to determine if she likes her nephew enough to walk over and save him from the one-fingered assault.

“David told him if they’d wanted a professional clown for the party today they should have seen if the Prime Minister was free,” Anna responds by way of explanation.

“Oh well, the hell with him then,” Lila says dismissing the young man’s pleading gazes. “He’s brought this on himself.”

“Except that if dad keeps this up he’s going to have a heart attack, scarring your grandson and all his little friends for life,” Anna says pushing her mother gently towards the eye of the storm.

Lila tries to resist but can’t help noticing the florid colouring of her husbands face; A mixture of too much sun, too many vodka tonics and entirely too much investment in the defense our nation’s leader.

So she sighs, squares her shoulder’s and crosses the lawn.

“Watching you making this much of a public spectacle, I’d at least hope it would be in the defense of MY honour,” she says stepping between the two men and gently running a hand across her Henry’s forehead wiping away the beads of sweat.

“Oh these kids, Lila,” Her Henry practically spits at her. “They think they know everything. They’ve never had to work for anything in there lives. Never had to fight for anything. Everything always just handed to them and then they bite the hands that feed them!”

She grabs his hand just before he’s about to land a jab. “Don’t even think about it. And quit yelling at me, I’m not one of the kids. Actually quit yelling full stop. This is your grandson’s birthday party and you had better just simmer down and little and enjoy it.”

“I’m not yelling. I’m just trying to set this boy straight.” Her Henry says, attempting to temper his anger but succeeding only in making his words come out strangled and monotone.

“Honest to god Henry….,” she mumbles then turns towards David saying “it’s a miracle I haven’t murdered this one yet.”

But as she looks at her nephew, with his confident stance and indulgent smile, her irritation turns into another feeling entirely.

And as she hears him say, to her Henry, “You sure can get fired up about things there Unc. Best watch your blood pressure. Ha! Ha!” and the placating tone penetrates into her brain, the feeling hardens.

And as she sees that whatever affection this boy has for her Henry is laced with pity; pity for an old man with an old body and older notions. She realizes if there was one man she’d gladly kill at the moment, it was not her Henry.

And she proceeds to tell him so, ensuring the point is hammered home with the tip of a well manicured mail.