— Ome explains how he got his strange name. —
Somebody slapped the canvas on the outside of the tent and shouted, “Service!” Moments later the whole camp stirred into weary activity. The woman’s eyes lit up.
“No not that sort of service,” O’Mally explained. “No room service here baby. You’re expected to attend a church service every day. Christianity has returned here. Even for the Muslims! They won’t mind if we miss a day. Shamus is my family name. My mother’s father was an O’Mally, so my mum had the bright idea of calling me O’mally. Stupid. I suffered.”
O’Mally became silent for a moment. He gave her the thousand-mile stare and continued:
“Believe me, I suffered. But anyway, I got into acting; small stuff, a few movies you might have heard of, but bit parts. It became useful then ’cause I called myself Sean O’Mally. For the book writing I changed it again, to Seamus Mally. Anyway, my friends call me Ome, so you can too.”
“And the story?”
“Yes. Apart from the alien stuff. But that’s my interpretation.”
“Is that true about the Jesus and Brazil?”
“Yeah. Believe so. I saw it. Took me almost six months to get here. Now I have to get back. The car is gone of course. Useless without chargers. I have to get back to my girls.”
The woman shook her head slowly, but said nothing.