We present an extract from Slant, the debut novel by Katherine O'Donnell.
Ro McCarthy, single in her fifties and working a quiet job, is sustained by her love of books and her deep friendships. Although she still doesn't approve of marriage – not even for the straights – she is canvassing for yes in the 2015 marriage equality referendum.
But, as the ghosts of her activist past join her on the campaign trail and her eagerness to confront a familiar discrimination turns to obsession and fury, Ro must finally face the long-buried trauma and loss of her youth.
Thirty years earlier, Ro is a young Cork woman living her best life in Boston, undocumented and working multiple jobs, making life-long friends, and falling in love with Jenny. Soon, however, the young gay men who have become Ro’s new family – from Ireland and elsewhere – begin to die. Shocked and grieving, she finds purpose in AIDS activism and a community that is loving and living against all odds.
When I got down to the hotel lobby I found a chaos of people my own age happily anticipating having a party on someone else's expense account. I had heard this crowd was going to be here for the weekend. These international students were already on full scholarships at universities across America. They were to have three days and two nights in Boston, all on the tab of the Fulbright Commission. I was fascinated by the fizzing variety of nationalities. Everyone was 'psyched' as the Americans liked to say, and the happiness was contagious.
I mingled among the crowd and surveyed the groups milling around the reception desk, and that’s when I saw her. She stood alone between her suitcase and an aggressively large rubber plant, a little apart from the throng. She stood stiffly and at odd angles to herself, looking past the clutches of students introducing themselves to each other while waiting to check in. She was smoking a cigarette and the light coming in through the lobby’s high glass atrium caught the trail of smoke and made copper and gold glints in her astonishing halo of curls.
My gaze kept snagging on this girl, who seemed to be waiting for the melee to soften before attempting to register. She wore a long black jacket with shoulder pads and the sleeves, with striped lining, were folded up to her mid-arm. Her flowing white shirt reached below a stretchy black mini- skirt, she wore black leggings and dark-green pixie boots.
I said a swift prayer that this girl was able to speak good English and I half-skated and nearly tripped across the lobby tiles to talk with her.
She made a polite reply to my 'hello’. She had an English accent, which was disconcerting. Her afro head of curls was also much more blonde close-up.
‘I actually thought you might be Danish,’ I said, and I have absolutely no idea why I said that.
‘No, I’m English,’ she replied, in a very English voice.
‘Do you have Danish ancestry?’ Apparently I couldn’t just shut up.
‘None’ There was a tinge of silence for some moments.
‘So where did you get your amazing hair?’
‘My parents. Sorry, that’s obvious,’ the girl said, blushing. ‘As far as we know all the ancestors are English. Though in Boston, I am surprised some people think I am Irish.’ She smiled
‘Really?’
’Yes. They hear an accent.’
‘You’re definitely not Irish, though.'
‘No.’
‘I’m Irish,’ I said.
‘Yes, I thought so. I mean, sorry, I presumed.
’‘D’you think I have an Irish accent?
’‘Yes. I mean it’s a very nice accent. I like it.
’‘I’m Ro, by the way.’ I put out my hand to shake and immediately felt an even worse eejit, but thankfully the English girl shook my hand in a firm and formal manner.
‘Please call me Jenny. My friends call me Jenny.’
‘My friends, and everyone else, call me Ro.’ ‘R-O-W? R-O-E?’‘ Even simpler – R-O.’
‘Would you like me to call you Ro?’
I shrugged. ‘Well, Jenny, we’d be friends if you did, but I answer to many names. In work situations I’m often called Rosie or Rose, but I’m also called Roz or Róisín. I was christened Rosemary. Take your pick.’
Jenny answered, ‘There’s Rosemary, that’s for remembrance.’
We finished the quote together, both careful with the careful comma.
‘Pray you, love, remember.
Slant is published by New Island Books
