before he sits for the Civil Service exam, but Tom is not thinking about that. You would not know him, of course. He was nothing but a wee lad when you ran off into the night and abandoned us. And Margaret and George had not even been born yet!
It was all so long ago, and yet it seems like the night before last. I cannot imagine where you went, what you have been doing.
* * *
? ? ?
Was that you in Paris? Perhaps I must admit to myself it was not. After all, you looked as if you had not aged a day. Better, actually, than that last time I saw you. Perhaps you found Ponce de León’s precious fountain and drank from its waters? Girls should not keep such secrets but should share them with each other, do you not think? You always had the most beautiful skin, rivaling that of the purest ivory.
There I go again!
Blabbering on and on.
* * *
? ? ?
I know you want to hear about Bram. He was always your favorite, was he not? It is okay, you can tell me; I would not take offense. Of all my siblings, he has my heart as well. He has always been Ma’s pet, but probably not Pa’s. If Pa has a soft spot, it will be for Thornley and Dick, doctor and doctor-to-be—following in the footsteps of all the other Stoker doctors. Bram tries to please him, and he seems to be following Pa’s wishes, but he and Pa do have their differences and have not seen eye to eye recently.
Pa encouraged Bram to sit for the Civil Service exam, which he did. His score was second highest, so he got one of the five open jobs in Petty Sessions at Dublin Castle. He began in the Fines and Penalties Office, and he hates it so!
He claims the boredom is so thick in Petty Sessions it can be seen floating through the air in an attempt to escape the castle, a cloud of gray and muck. He came home yesterday and claimed to have stepped in some boredom on his way out, catching it before it could slip beneath the threshold and get lost in the streets of Dublin.
You and I know Bram would rather be at the theater day and night, rubbing elbows with the actors and stagehands. He would be happy to sit in the cheap seats and watch the same show over and over again.
Of course, Pa is sure the stage is populated by “ne’er-do-wells,” and as much as he enjoys a highbrow performance, he thinks theater work is not acceptable—he remembers the old burlesque shows and assumes Bram would get in with a bad crowd. No son of his will work in the theater!
So many men are out of work—is not Bram fortunate to have a path laid out for him at Dublin Castle? With his education, there will be regular promotions and raises. And let none of us forget, Pa started at Dublin Castle at only sixteen, and he had to work and save for almost thirty years so that he could afford to marry and provide for Ma. And isn’t Bram thankful? He should be thrilled to follow in his father’s footsteps!
Those conversations make Bram long for his sickbed again.
* * *
? ? ?
Oh, my Bram.
You would be proud.
Pa will not hear of him working in a theater, but Bram has found another way to be involved. He writes reviews of performances in the Evening Mail. Ironically, an unpaid position, but of course Bram takes it very seriously. He works much faster than the other clerks so he has time to write reviews and keep up his journals on the castle’s clock, with his boss none the wiser.
This seems to keep Bram’s literary urges at bay for now.
Bram and Pa sometimes even attend theater together! Bram has turned Pa into his sounding board, analyzing every nuance ad nauseam. Of course, Pa thinks Bram will be satisfied to go on that way, but I do not think it will be enough. As soon as Pa relents, or if he turns his back, we