Sorry I didn’t call earlier. Things have been a little crazy here, and some of the places I’ve been there just wasn’t any service at all.” Colin wondered if his mother could hear the excuses in his voice. He could imagine her in the living room of their house in Chicago; he could hear the TV on in the background, thin voices scratching at the speaker of his cell phone accompanied by equally tinny music. His mother’s breath obliterated them. “Jen told me she’s talked to you several times.” The accusation was implicit, with just a hint of guilt-inducing “You’ll call your sister, but you won’t call me” underneath it. “Yeah, sorry, Mom. Mea culpa, and all that.” He pressed his lips together. Downstairs, he could hear Mrs. Egan puttering around in the kitchen, and the smell of baking bread wafted through the house. “I’ll try to be better about that. I promise.” But if I move to Inishcorr, there’ll be no phone service at all . . .
What do You think about The Crow Of Connemara (2015)?
