Eoin Costigan (sg_eoin) wrote in supergleerpg, @ 2012-02-27 22:17:00 |
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Entry tags: | !type: thread, -2012: february, character: gracie hewitt, character: jadyn ishii, character: jaime ishii, former character: eoin costigan, ~complete |
Thread: So raise to me the parting glass
Who: Eoin and OPEN
What: Uncle Brendan's wake
Where: Murphy's Irish Pub
When: Monday evening, from about six o'clock onwards
Warnings: TBD
He'd managed to stay more or less sober throughout the weekend. Sure, he'd had a few drinks, but he'd paced himself, tried not to get beyond that soft buzz that at least took the edge off. The letters Dave had brought him on Friday were sitting on top of his dresser, where he could see them - although it still hurt like hell to look at them - but they weren't the only reason he'd been trying to hold back on the booze.
There'd been so much to do. Aunt Katie had offered to take a lot of the work off his hands, but he'd felt bad for leaving her to deal with it herself for so long, and, besides, it was his fault Uncle Brendan was dead. That made it his responsibility to deal with the fallout. He'd taken his break, feeling sorry for himself and generally making a tit out of himself. Being lazy. If there was one thing he'd got out of the conversation with Dave, and the letters from the future, it was that he couldn't be lazy. People needed him. So he'd just have to go back to work on acting like everything was okay.
But now everything was ready. The church was booked and ready for tomorrow - and with how many Catholics there were needing to be buried, Eoin reckoned they were probably doing pretty well there; they'd even managed to find a day nobody else was being buried, which seemed important. Everyone who could come had been made arrangements for, and he'd made sure the funeral was at a time when family in Ireland could pray for him too. Back at the house, Uncle Brendan's coffin was laid out in the living room, the lid open; the embalmers had done a great job of hiding his injuries, but Eoin still wasn't ready to face that just yet. Not when he was still almost sober. The memory was still too fresh; the blood on his fingers, the way Uncle Brendan's head had lolled when he'd moved to pick him up...
So he was in charge of the party side of the wake, and for now, Aunt Katie was the one holding vigil. Their house was close enough to the bar that it was reasonable to have the two halves of the wake in different buildings, if not ideal, and it meant they'd only had to really clean the hallway and the living room. Even that had been an effort.
But it was all over now. Dealt with. Sorted. And when the first few guests arrived, they found Eoin sitting up at the bar, his hair combed back, in a dark suit, with a pint in his hand and a subdued smile to greet them.