We became friends on Facebook nearly a year ago. Over that time both of us discovered that we had similar tastes in music and books, and of course, sports. We were both big GAA fans but in soccer he followed ManU and I followed Liverpool. In politics he was a bit of a lefty and I tended towards conservative views especially on social issues. The banter was good and we drew in many comments from other Facebook friends that we had met online.
Then he messaged me that said, Hey, why don’t we meet up? I answered, that’d be great. We agreed to meet for a coffee and have a chat.
We agreed to meet in the café in Belvedere House.
It was a typical spring day. Not too cold, but, thankfully dry.
We ordered our coffees, I had an Americano he had a Latte. We talked about our families. I was married and showed him a photo of my two boys. He wasn’t married but had a long-term partner called Louise, no children.
“At least, not yet,” he said.
“But you’d like to have a kid?” I asked.
“Maybe.” He said. “That’ll depend on how things go with us. It’s a big commitment,” he said. The sun came out and he said, “Let’s go around the lake for a walk.”
The newly laid pathway seemed to shimmer in the afternoon spring sun and of course the daffodils were in bloom and they created a yellow trail towards the lake. The trees, mostly beech and sycamore, stood on either side as if welcoming us as we made our way on the Nature Trail.
We chatted on about any number of topics that we were interested in and I felt we were getting on very well. We were at ease in one another’s company. It was as if we had been pals since primary school.
There was a park bench situated on a beautiful setting by the lake. The sun shone onto the shore and the trees acted as a kind of windbreak.
“Let’s sit down,” he invited.
After making some comments about how wonderful it must be to be able to come out to a place like this and enjoy nature, he turned and said, “Do you mind if I tell you something about myself?” “Of course not,” I answered looking forward to hearing his story.
“I’m an orphan,” he turned away as if to address the lake, “I have wonderful adopted parents, and I realise how lucky I am to have them.”
I agreed that must be true because you hear so many hard tales and unfortunate circumstances. “It must have been difficult not knowing your parents.”
“Yes, that was always something I wondered about, and recently my partner Louise encouraged me to do some research,” he turned and smiled at me, “You know how women are. I think she’s planning to have a child. You know how that is.”
“Oh, only too well,” I laughed. I wondered did he realise that Louise was a couple of steps ahead of him in that department. “And how did your research go?”
He sat back in the bench and said nothing for a moment and then he said, “It’s one of the reasons why I asked you to meet.”
“Oh,” I was confused but my insides tightened for some unconscious reason. “What do you mean?”
“Your mother’s name is Maggie Tumulty?”
“That’s right.” My heart skipped a beat.
“And she spent some time in England.”
“That’s right. She worked in an office in Birmingham, she met my Dad and they both returned to Ireland.”
“Was she from Tuam, by any chance?”
“Yes. Both my parents are alive and live in Galway city.”
“Well, my research has led me to the fact that a Margaret Tumulty from Tuam gave birth to me in Birmingham forty four years ago. How old are you, if you don’t mind me asking?” “Forty one this year.”
He looked at me, but said nothing. He was waiting for me to react.
It suddenly dawned on me who he could be, but I couldn’t get my mind to grasp the implications of what he was telling me.
A chill came up from the lake even though the sun remained shining as before. Eventually I managed to ask, “What did you find?”
“My father, my biological father, is unknown. But from what I can gather Margaret got pregnant in Tuam and then emigrated to Birmingham soon after. I was born and she gave me up for adoption.” “My Father?” I asked. “was he…?”
“No. They met a year later, came home and then had you.”
“Same mother different father,” I murmured to myself.
“Yes, it looks like that.”
I continued to sit in silence with my own thoughts. It would be taking some time for me to process what was just revealed.
“The irony of it,” I said eventually, more to myself than to him.
“What’s that?”
“My father was an orphan. He had a terrible time with his adopted parents. He always said my mother was the saving of him.”