The Thing About Luck

“What’s that? I like milk, all right? My ma always gave me a lot.”

“Ah, still a mama’s boy, are ya, then?” Mick teased.

“I like milk, sure. It doesn’t make me a mama’s boy,” Rory retorted, slipping in next to Mick.

“Well, these long days’ll make a man out of ya.”

“If it doesn’t break him,” Sean said, thumping his plate on the table. Sean had taken four sausages. Well, the sausage situation wasn’t my fault. I had made exactly as many sausages as Mrs. Parker had said to in her binder.

Obaachan poured a glass of milk for Rory and passed it down to him.

I felt more comfortable with them than with the two American drivers. I wasn’t sure why, but maybe it was because I felt closer in the pecking order to the Irish guys. The Americans were older, so I had to show them more respect.

Mrs. Parker swept into the camper, her chin rising a bit as she sniffed the air, a lot like Thunder would do.

I looked over at Jiichan and saw him closing his eyes the way he often did when eating. It was like he was savoring his magic oil.

I didn’t know what to say, so I kept it basic. “So what’s it like where you guys live?” I asked the Irishmen.

“Oh, it’s lovely, beautiful countryside,” Mick replied, his voice suddenly catching fire. He was the most talkative of the three.

“Tell her about yer crop circles, then,” Rory said, elbowing him with a laugh.

“Ya can make fun about it, but it’s an honest day’s work,” Mick shot back, returning the elbow.

“Last year, and the year before that, he took people on tours of crop circles all over Ireland,” Rory explained, setting down his fork. “Mostly Americans, and he charges them a thousand euro a tour. He probably makes the circles by himself!”

Mick chewed on a sausage, unperturbed. He swallowed and turned toward me. “It’s a mystery, and they want to see a mystery. I join together a mystery and someone who wants to see a mystery. That’s all it is.” He spoke wearily, as if he had said this many times before. It struck me that he was basically a salesman, selling a mystery to Americans. He then speared another sausage and put the whole thing in his mouth at once.

Rory laughed loudly. “He can talk for an hour about nothing but crop circles. But don’t get him started, because he might bore ya to death.”

“I don’t even know what a crop circle is,” I said.

Rory groaned. “Now ya’re going to get him started.” Rory was a skinny guy with curly red hair—on his head and his chest!

Robbie entered the kitchen next, asking, “Is there coffee?” Obaachan said I couldn’t drink coffee because it would stunt my growth. I wondered if she was taking note of how tall Robbie was. Although, I have to say that once, Obaachan had let me taste some, and it was so awful I had no plans to ever drink any again. I had been looking forward to drinking coffee my whole life, but after that I had to cross it off my list of things I wanted to do one day. Actually, I didn’t really have a list. It was more like things I made mental notes of. Right then I made a mental note to start keeping a list of things I wanted to do one day. Honestly, I would be happy if I could just visit the Badlands once a month or so. I think that would help me settle my personality.

Mick leaned forward and said, “Robbie, can ya get me a couple of sausages?” That meant he was eating seven sausages so far. Seven! Then he turned back to me. “A crop circle is a huge, geometric pattern that appears in a field, usually a wheat field. They’re mostly in England, but we get them in Ireland, too,” he said.

“So why do people want to see them?” I asked. I saw Mrs. Parker leaning over the sausages and counting.

“Because no one knows how they got there. Every one is different, and some are as big as two or three hundred meters. Even the complicated ones are perfectly symmetrical,” he said, starting to get excited. “We don’t know if it’s the earth trying to communicate with us or what.”

“Some people are gobshites,” Rory said. “Gobshites” were gullible people. I had picked that up during the last harvest we’d worked. “But ya know, I think Mick is becoming a gobshite too. He actually believes everything he tells his customers.”

Jiichan looked up from his plate. “What ‘gobshite’?”

“It’s someone gullible,” I told him.

Jiichan looked surprised. “Nothing wrong with gullible. How you be happy if not gullible?”

Everyone looked at him silently for a moment, but he didn’t explain.

“Some circles are not a mystery. They’re made by humans as hoaxes. But others are mysterious, to be sure,” Mick went on defensively. “Personally, I believe the earth is talking to us, but we don’t know what it’s saying.”

“Tell her about that one couple, Micky,” Rory said.

Mick set his fork on the table. “One American couple gave me a four-hundred-euro tip at the end of the tour. Can ya believe it? They said they were transformed, they did.”

“Ya’re such an eejit,” Rory said. He hit the top of Mick’s head with his palm.

“What’s an eejit?” I asked.

“Ya know, an eejit. Someone who’s lacking in the brain department.”

“Oh, an idiot.”

“That would be himself.”

Mr. Parker walked in. “How’d you sleep, boys?” he asked. “It was so windy, our camper was shaking. Hard to get a good night’s rest.”

“Nobody can sleep, anyway, because Rory snores so loud,” Sean said, almost ruthlessly. “He’s useless, he is.”

“He’s an excellent worker,” Mr. Parker said.

“Ah, teacher’s pet,” Sean said to Rory.

Mr. McCoy rambled in, looking seriously like he needed more sleep. I felt bad for him. He even swayed a bit as if he were going to fall over. He took three sausages, and then Mr. Dark came in and took three more. Then Mick asked for more. Unbelievable.

Jiichan started chuckling. Everyone fell silent, again waiting for him to explain. But he didn’t say anything. Then he began laughing quite hard. Everybody was looking at him. “Got a good joke, then, Toshiro?” Mick said.

Jiichan looked at Mick in surprise. “Joke?”

“It’s just that ya were laughing so much,” Mick replied.

Jiichan said, “Oh, I laugh because one day two year ago, I drive all the way to grocery store before I remember I no need grocery. I supposed to go to dentist.”

“That no funny,” Obaachan said. “We have to pay dentist for missed appointment.”

There was another brief silence at the table.

Mr. Parker reached for four sausages. Finally, Mrs. Parker couldn’t stand it anymore. “How many sausages were cooked?” she blurted out.

“We made thirty, like you instructed,” I answered.

Robbie sat down and drank his coffee just like a grown-up.

Obviously slightly annoyed with me, Mrs. Parker said, “Well, Robbie loves meat. It’s his favorite part of breakfast. For this one thing, I give you permission to alter the number of sausages specified.”

“Yes, boys need meat. Very important,” Obaachan said. “It very bad tragedy if he no have meat for breakfast.” She shook her head. “Tragedy, tragedy.”

I knew Obaachan was being serious, because boys needing meat was one of her most important rules in life. But Mrs. Parker couldn’t seem to tell if Obaachan was agreeing with her or mocking her.

Mr. Parker pushed away his plate and said, “We’re in a tight situation here. One of our customers up in Oklahoma called this morning before dawn to say their wheat is ready to cut. And they’re expecting rain. We’ll need to work late tonight—probably until two again. If we don’t get up there soon enough, I’ll have to find other cutters to take our place, and I don’t want to lose that job.” He stood up and glanced around. Even though Jiichan hadn’t finished eating, he got up and stretched his back and neck to ready himself for work. Jiichan ate very slowly,