The Luck of the Irish

I noticed him because of his outfit: green knickers with striped socks and black short boots, a matching green jacket over a white shirt. Sure, he had a beard like half of the men at my favorite bar in the Mad River Valley, but his whiskers connected via long sideburns, forming a U-shaped display of facial hair. It was a statement look, for sure. But, despite his colorful attire, I could tell something was wrong as he slumped over a pint of dark beer, elbows on the bar.

I sighed. It had been a long day at work as a guidance counselor, helping high schoolers with their dreams and demons. I was hoping to nestle into a corner of the bar, have a glass of wine, and read my book for a few minutes before heading home to my long list of chores. But I was biologically incapable of turning away from a creature in need. Yup, I was the child who brought home birds with broken wings or malnourished-looking squirrels to nurse back to health. So instead of hiding in the corner, I plopped my butt on the stool next to the green-suited, sad man.

Oddly, he didn’t even look up. I caught Diane, the bartender’s eye, and inclined my head toward my bar-mate. She gave a shrug. No information there. “The regular, Annie?” she asked.

I nodded and when my chardonnay arrived, I held my glass close to the man next to me. “Cheers,” I volunteered.

His head swung in my direction, and his eyes slowly focused on me. He seemed to struggle for what to do, but finally his hand curled around his glass and he raised it a few inches off the bar. “Sláinte,” he said in return, before taking a long sip.

“Slantcha?” I asked. “What’s that?”

A small light appeared in his eyes. “Gaelic for cheers,” he said. “It means ‘to your health’.”

“Slantcha,” I said, rolling the foreign word around in my mouth. “I like it.”

He nodded and sighed.

“Is everything OK?” I asked gently.

He raised his chin, and his eyes bore into me as if he was mining for something I might have hidden in my head. An odd tingle ran through my body, like a warm shiver. “I can see you are kind and full of goodheartedness,” he declared.

I wasn’t sure what he meant, but I said, “I try. I’ve been told I’m a good listener.”

He took a deep breath, examining me farther, then nodding to himself. “Well, you see, I am very unhappy in my work,” he said softly.

“Perhaps you need to change your job?” I said. 

“I fear it’s difficult in my case, you see,” he said. 

“Change can be worth it,” I said. “Once upon a time, I was an accountant, but now I work at the high school as a counselor. And I’m so glad I went for it, back to school, training. A lot of work, but it paid off,” I said.

“A counselor?” he asked. “That’s what I need! Counsel. Me prayers have been answered.” He raised his eyes to the ceiling briefly before affixing his steady gaze back on me. This time, his eyes glimmered with hope.

I put my best counselor voice on. “So, what is it that you do?” I asked. I expected the standard local Valley answers of tradesman, financial planner, or restaurant worker, although he didn’t look familiar to me.

A wry smile rose on the corner of one lip. “I’m a leprechaun.”

An inadvertent snort came out of my nose. Leprechaun? Those were people of legend, not real humans. My eyes roved his outfit again. At least he was dressing the part. Our eyes met again. He was serious and so sad looking. What the hell? What could go wrong with a short counseling session here at the bar?

I cleared my throat a few times and formed a sentence. “Really? That seems like such a cool job, all that gold and all,” I said. “Your job is to find gold, right?”

“People expect that all the time. We don’t have it, you know. It’s a myth. If I had all that gold, I’d be living in Tahiti or Paris, right?”

“Well, I guess…”

“And that’s another thing. The job description is pretty vague,” he said. “We mostly play pranks on people. No joy in that.”

“I thought people in your profession were usually short?” That sounded stupid even to my own ears. I was struggling.

He nodded as if I said something intelligent. “It’s true. I am grossly tall. It’s another problem. Another reason I don’t fit in. Can you please help me?”

I took a deep breath. The poor man was hurting, after all. He wasn’t a lost dog or one of my birds with broken wings, but he needed help. I could do better. “OK. Let’s work on this.” I straightened my spine. “List for me two things you like about your current job.”

He stroked his beard with one hand for several seconds before answering. “Working with humans and the potential of bringing them happiness.”

“So maybe something with people?”

“No, that’s not my problem,” he said. “I already know what I want to be.” He lowered his voice. “I want to be Cupid.”

Cupid? This entire conversation was getting more and more odd. I considered moving over a barstool or five. But, in for a penny, in for a pound, as my grandmother always cautioned. I looked at him again, his earnest face lit up with hope. I’d started this after all. “OK,” I said. “For any career change, the first thing is to try something small about it and see if you like it, like taking an internship or learning a new skill.”

He nodded like I was a sage dispensing wisdom from on high. He rubbed his hands together. “Yes. That’s an excellent idea. When? How?”

I was stuck again. I mean, how does one try being Cupid? “Most people use dating apps today, so I’m not sure…”

He raced on without me. “Right now. Let me try.”

A thin string of green lights danced from his index finger to me, then to a man with a long white beard and worn Carhartt coat entering the bar. I watched in a trance as the lights looped around my waist and circled my chest. A feeling of invincibility came over me and I straightened my spine. The man looked at me and smiled. My hands moved to smooth my hair and my lips curved.

Wait! What was happening? I snapped my head back around to my leprechaun. “What did you do? You can’t practice on me,” I said. “And that’s Daniel. He’s my plow guy and at least twice my age.”

He looked sheepish. “We do have some magic powers, you know. I wanted to see if they would work.”

I drummed my fingers on the bar top. I mean, it was kind of cool. Or crazy. I looked around the room. A married couple I knew, Tina and Paul, were dining at a table for two. Tina was making designs on her plate with her mashed potatoes and her fork. Paul scrolled through his phone. They were silent.

“OK,” I whispered. “Try them.” I pointed to the couple and watched as the twinkling green lights danced from my leprechaun to Tina and then Paul. I blinked twice and things had changed. Paul put his phone down. Tina put her fork down. They were holding hands! Their eyes sparkled as they gazed at each other.

“You might really have a gift,” I said slowly, willing myself to believe it. I’d seen the green light. Something did shift. I knew Paul and Tina. “Those two have never looked so happy,” I said, actually feeling a little jealous and wondering if I could use my bar-friend’s power for my own happiness. I’d given up on dating apps months ago and hadn’t had a real date since. Maybe I needed a Cupid-leprechaun in my life?

“Really? You think so? Really?”

He laughed with a light, high-pitched tone and gently touched the tip of my nose. “I have you to thank for this. And we always repay our debts.” He stood, winked, and bowed. As I smiled at his antics, he vanished. Gone! I blinked several times, but there was no more green-suited man. Did I dream the whole thing?

I called Diane over. “Someone was here, right?”

“Did he leave?” she asked as she pulled his empty pint over the counter.

“I guess so,” I said. I looked over at Tina and Paul, still holding hands. Something had happened. I didn’t imagine it. And, I had to admit, when I came into the bar, I was worn down. Now I was hopeful. Whomever he was, he had a power.

“Well, he didn’t pay for his beer,” Diane said.

I laughed. “He was right, no gold. Don’t worry, I’ve got it. Let me settle up.”

Diane turned and pressed several buttons on the wait station. As she slid the bill toward me, a new person sat down on my leprechaun’s empty stool. I glanced up and noticed a dark-haired man with glasses. A spark of interest flared in his eyes, and he smiled. I smiled back. I swear I saw a small path of green lights strung between us, but I blinked once and they were gone.

“Stay for a drink with me?” he asked.

Was my vanished friend still nearby?

“I think I will,” I said.