If my job had been high paying, I would have time for them.’ ‘I understand, Mr. Fitzpatrick—’ ‘I mean, I left them back home 200 miles away ...while I work 20 bloody hours a day, 7 days a week in this bloody city and I have not even had a time to go to church on Sunday!’ ‘Mr. Fitzpatrick—’ I tried to interrupt him. ‘Look at you!’ he pointed at me, ‘You seemed to be happily married. I bet I’m right! Am I?’ ‘Actually, I am not married.’ my tongue slipped. Of all the things that I hate, it is. “The girls said they werecheck’n out and headed for the door just as my beaureturned with a couple tequila shots and beer chasers.He asked where my friends went and I told him they hadto get home to their men. He asked if I had to go… Iassured him that you were burning the mid-night oil andI could hang for a while. He was crestfallen and said… oh you’re married? Iflashed my wedding band and told him that I was verymarried. He was so cute you would have thought I. On this occasion the waiter remained silent and I desperately searched round in my head for a suitable opening gambit. Nothing useful came to mind. 'What a nice toilet you have here', didn't seem quite right. Neither did, 'Which urinal would you recommend out of these five?' The old standby, 'Do you come here often?' didn't seem suitable for this particular location, either. At last I managed to blurt out something like, 'Nice tea room, never been in it before''Thank you, sir. We try to please. ."Her eyes began to sparkle oddly..."I heve it. Ye be on yer way... an ye'll be lonely ne more!"I was confused though. How did she know? My past life had... well mychildhood had been bitter painful... ghost ridden... It left me tooscared to try to reach people... and now... at my age... but how didshe know? I... As I looked her body seemed to melt... flow... alter... "Marcha hev long wished tae play tis game wi men... I tank ye... ferthis excuse."Marcha? I pondered... an Irish goddess, fabled.