As we turned to leave he looked back at his friends. Smiling proudly he waved at them. It obviously amused him that they were all staring at us in dis...elief, heavily tinged with jealousy.As he led me away to his apartment I thought, "Oh well, at least he isn't fat, old and ugly like most of the men that raped me yesterday."Actually, he was kind of cute. He seemed awfully young. I doubt if he was any older than eighteen or nineteen. I figured that would work to my benefit. This latest ordeal. ********************************* Bridget O’Brien was sitting in a bar in Arlington, Virginia. The calendar on the wall said 1989 – no one had bothered to change it for five years, then. There was a man singing on the small stage, his voice wizened beyond his years by whiskey and cigarettes. He was singing the cheesier of the Irish ballads, Americans would rather hear of Molly Malone and her cockles and mussels than Pádraic Pearse and his butchered schoolboys. They would rather think of Ireland. More

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