Chapter Ten

Fourteen months had passed since he had taken on the job of bouncer at Maggie's bar, and Monk's happiness had not abated. A full day's work, good pay, an occasional kiss from Maggie, and the pleasure of the company made him feel like the luckiest man in New York.

Redmond Sirocco was a good companion, and Monk would often talk with Redmond, or if he was lucky, Monk would speak with Vallon if their paths crossed. However, Monk felt that there was a rift between them now, one that would not fade off with time. It had started when Monk and Vallon had spoken together a year after Monk had found his job. It had been the first real conversation they had had since splitting ways.

Vallon had approached him first. It had been a sunny day, and at dusk, the pink and yellow tints on the clouds added a mysticism to it that only miracles could rival. The sky had been turning dark, and the first torches were being lit.

Monk had been off duty, in order to enjoy a drink by himself. He had not seen Vallon coming until the man was in front of him.

"Happy birthday, Monk."

Monk, in spite of his surprise, had smiled. Vallon had always miscalculated his birthday by about a week or two. In this case, he had been a month late.

Nevertheless, Monk got up to greet his old friend, "Thank ye Vallon. It's good to see you again."

Vallon nodded, "Aye. It has. Much has happened since last we spoke directly."

Monk shrugged, "Redmond might have told me about it."

Vallon grimaced, and sat down, "Can I have a drink with you?"

Monk sat back down, "Of course. Who would I be to deny you that favour?" As if on cue, Maggie came hurrying over, completely ignoring two customers she had been taking orders from. Her alertness to Monk's actions was surprising. She had seemed to know when Vallon came to Monk's table. Redmond, who was acting as bouncer at the time, would later say that Maggie had given him a nod when Vallon appeared and headed for Monk, as if to make sure Redmond was alert.

Monk smiled tenderly at Maggie, and ordered a drink for him and Vallon. He felt surprisingly protective of her for some reason, as if Vallon were threatening her. He couldn't help but feel uneasy in Vallon's presence, especially since Vallon now carried a vicious short sword around wherever he went.

Vallon smiled politely at Maggie, and when she left, he looked back at Monk, "So how's the engagement?"

Monk shrugged, "I'm to be watched for my behaviour. To see if I've truly been taught the proper manners of an Irishman. Though in this case, we live in troubled times so Maggie's ma wants me to wait two years."

Vallon shook his head, "Two years? That's a while for a man to wait."

Monk shrugged, "I'm in no hurry. Besides, I want it to be proper."

Vallon smiled, "Still the same as ever, Monk."

"Aye. I try to uphold what I was taught."

Vallon frowned, "What's that supposed to mean?"

Monk sighed, and unleashed the feelings he was holding in his gut, "Vallon, I'm not gonna pretend that I respect what you do. Butchering American boys like they're animals."

"Oh aye, and you'd do the same if you saw how they treated us like animals." Vallon's voice was bereft of the friendliness he had had before.

Monk felt uneasier than ever, but continued on, "This isn't the Protestant war in Dublin, Vallon."

"You see, I'm of a different view, Monk. From where I'm standing, it's the same battle."

Monk shuddered, "I came to this country to escape that battle."

"So did I, Monk,' Vallon replied, 'but the Good Lord wants us to prove our worth in finding a place to live as free men should."

Monk sighed, "Well, I've found my place to live." He gestured around him, at the bar and the house in the back. At Maggie and Redmond and Maggie's mother, who also worked as a waitress. He had found a home to live in and grow old in, and in the past year, Monk had set aside much of what he had done in Ireland. He had been able to leave behind his past before he had committed the act of murder.

Vallon, who had killed people in Dublin and in New York, looked upon Monk with a new light in his eyes, "You can't run away from life, Monk."

Monk frowned, "What the hell's that supposed to mean eh?"

Vallon gave a smile that made Monk think of the old days, "I mean that I would love to do what you've done here. I'd love to find a family and be able to raise children, and teach them of God's greatness. But I can't."

"Why not?" Monk asked.

"Because evil exists in our world, Monk. I could live with that, but evil is on our doorstep, trying to break through and drive us out for good. That evil must be kept at bay or else it shall consume us all. That evil must be fought before any kind of hope can exist in living peacefully. God may stand and support the righteous, but we're still here on earth, and the Good Lord doesn't always come down to help us. We need to help ourselves as well as trust in God."

Monk was dumbfounded by this speech, and a deep resentment began to grow in his mind. He had always known that faith in God could not save him from everything that occurred in life. But he had always avoided those wonders in his mind of where God ended and man began. He had not felt comfortable with those questions of God, for they dared to go places where he didn't want to go.

He looked at Vallon, "I can avoid the evil by not being evil. I don't have to run with the gangs anymore. I'm content to stay here and live an honest life. Your father tried that too and he almost succeeded."

Vallon frowned, but acknowledged the point with a nod, "Yes he had a respectable home, and a good business, but the man he took them from wasn't so lucky." Ignoring Monk's look of surprise, Vallon got up, thanked his old friend for speaking with him, promised to keep in touch, and left.

After that encounter, Monk and Vallon couldn't help but feel strained in their relationship with each other. There was something blocking them from bonding like before.

But Monk was not too worried. Vallon was plunging headlong into a world that he had come here to escape from. He had a new family, and would become a husband in time, and then he would fulfill a dream of opening up his own barbershop, and he would prosper in that thing that was dubbed the American dream.