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Wee Folk by Carol Murtaugh
(Written over the period during which Carol attended Barbara Baig's play groups and classes)
The bus driver looked at the red-haired little girl standing next to him on his New York-bound Bus. He re-opened the bus door as she requested. The door made an exhaust sound. He looked out on to the street and bus steps and saw nothing.
“ Tell me when your two friends are on the bus little girl “.
Strawberry-blonde curls bounced as she nodded her head. Her mother standing near the child gritted her teeth. “Bridie, I told you not to cause trouble about this.” She grasped the child by the arm—not too gently.
“It’s OK Mum,” the driver smiled until he saw the tight grasp the mother held. Then he frowned slightly. In a kindly tone he asked, “Are your little friends on the bus now honey?,” The child nodded and the door closed again. The mother and child moved down the bus isle. Several people smiled at the pair. Only the child smiled back.
The mother, Claire, chose a double seat near the back, in front of another empty one.. Once seated Claire looked down at Bridie, and some of her flush faded though she still felt angry.
“Those pixies again,” she thought. “Her first born child was seeing those pixies again..”
Last week there had been family conference about it. Phil, her husband, was not happy about the meeting, but had agreed. It was not a big family, and all members of the extended- relative group were present. Claire described Bridey’s behavior. Seeing people not there. Talking to them. Insisting places at the table be set for them.. The German descent members, Phil’s relatives, looked glum, scared maybe; while the Irish contingent looked intrigued. Great Granny Coyle spoke up. Minnie Coyle always spoke up first.
“ Sure an the Child is seeing the wee folk. They’re not just in the auld sod I guess:.. Sure and wasn’t I after seeing them back in Connemara when I was her age. About four in’t she? Well they will stay for a while, but they’ll be after leaving before she’s seven. Not to worry Claire, it could be a good omen.”
Claire didn’t think so, and neither did most of the German relatives. Great Uncle Hans thought the child should see a doctor—preferably a German one. The Irish contingent, except for Claire, sided with Granny Coyle. Strangely Phil agreed with the Irish, but Claire did not and she was the decider in the family. Phil was too impractical—strange for a German. It was decided that Claire and Phil would take Bridie to a head doctor—a psychiatrist Hans suggested. Claire thought about that decision now as the bus drove toward Manhattan, leaving the N.J. small towns behind.
As Claire thought about the planed visit to the head doctor, Bridie tuned in. She had not let the family know about this wonderful game she was able to play, she only spoke to her little friends about it. No use upsetting mother any more, or Uncle Hans and the rest. Maybe she would tell Granny Coyle, maybe not She sensed that the planned visit had to do with her friends . Friends the family referred to as pixies. Except Granny Coyle who called them the Wee Folk --that fit better. Bridie felt a little scared. Carefully, so as not to upset Claire, she looked over her shoulder and smiled. Of course they were right behind—in the next seat. Connor O and the Queen, Marcella. They smiled back and Marcella blew a kiss. Bridie sighed and felt calm. She turned back and watched the city approach outside the bus window.
Behind her the male, Connor O, pulled on his pointed ears, they balanced his pointy chin. His black shoe- button eyes sparkled as he began to think of a plan for next week. Hmm, the head Doctor—let’s see. Marcella, always mentally ahead of Connor, reached behind her and straightened her wings. As she did so the slight frown she had worn faded. She had now devised a plan for how they would handle the head doctor. As Connor continued to explore the problem in his leprechaun mind, the Fairy Queen smiled fondly at him. Her smile was enchanting—and superior..
Carol A. Murtaugh
Spring Equinox, 2007
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