David let out a deep breath. Hell. His fatherwasintimidating, he’d just never recognized it before.
Maybe his friends were right. Maybe Bob wouldn’t be great in politics.
The thought made him uncomfortable, so he replaced his headphones and continued to work.
***
On Wednesday evening, Zita was too distracted to study. Teresa’s hearing was the next day and she was as nervous as the girl. Knowing she wouldn’t be able to sleep straight away, Zita tried to find something to keep her busy. She was too agitated to read, and wouldn’t be able to concentrate on television. She glanced at the list of goals she’d stuck on her wall after her talk with Carmen on Monday. She’d been meaning to add a goal to research her Irish heritage.
Well, there was no time like the present. Research would keep her busy for an hour or two and then she’d go to sleep.
Finding a couple of Irish genealogy websites, Zita entered the details she knew: her father’s name, birth date and the county where he’d lived.
It took her a while to sift through the information and apply to get his birth certificate. When she was done, she searched for Flanagans in the phone book from that county. A couple of entries came up, but she wasn’t ready to cold-call yet.
Still not tired, Zita figured that stalking Flanagans on social media was another way to find some answers. She laughed when hundreds of results came up. It was going to take some time to go through the names and really, was there any point? She didn’t know enough to narrow it down. Someone could be a second cousin, or a great aunt or something, but Zita would have no idea who.
As she idly scrolled through the profile pictures, a guy with strawberry-blond hair caught her eye. She stared for a long moment, not quite believing it, her heart pounding. He looked exactly like her father. She clicked on the link for Sean Flanagan’s profile. He had to be related to her somehow, maybe a second cousin or something. There was too much of a resemblance for it to be a coincidence.
His profile had very little information. She examined the photo. He was about thirty, had the same blue eyes as Bridget, and the same color hair as her. Zita swallowed. Should she send him a message?
He might not even reply.
With a deep breath, she clicked the button to send him a note and stared at the flashing cursor for a long while. What should she say? We could be related?
After a lot of thought she decided to keep it simple.
Hi!
This is going to sound weird, but please read to the end! I’ve been investigating my Irish heritage, and I think we might be related. You look a lot like my father— same color hair and eyes, same surname— so maybe we’re second cousins or something. My father’s name is Brendan Flanagan. He left Ireland in about 1984 and went to El Salvador, where he met and married my mother, and had three kids. He died when I was three, and lately I’ve been curious as to where he came from and if I have any other family in Ireland. Do you recognize any of this story, or perhaps have someone you could ask? I’d love to learn more.
Anyway, hopefully this hasn’t freaked you out. I’d love an answer even if you know nothing.
Thanks.
Zita Flanagan
She read through it twice. It was worth a try. She hit the submit button and let out a breath.
With that done, it was definitely time for her to go to sleep. She wanted to be alert for Teresa’s hearing tomorrow.
***
David checked the time and shut down his computer. If he was going to make Teresa’s hearing, he had to leave now.
“David, I need you in a meeting in five,” Bob called as he walked past the office.
David grabbed his coat and keys and hurried after his father. “I can’t, Bob. I’m on my way out.”
“Whatever it is, cancel it. This is important.” Bob entered his office and grabbed a report off his desk.
David frowned. “It’s Teresa’s asylum hearing. I’ve got to go.”
“I don’t care. You’re needed here.” The scowl on Bob’s face was ferocious.
“Sorry, Bob. I promised I’d be there.”
“AndIpromised you will be in this meeting.” Bob stared at him. “Call whoever it is and tell them you’re required at work. You’re going to be CEO. You have to be flexible.” He walked out of the room without waiting for David’s response.
