The Application Form – Moy McCrory

This may well be the best short story I've every read.
I read it just after finishing university and could really identify with parental reticent re. official form filling.

The Application Form – Moy McCrory

'It’s arrived, it's arrived! Wake up you lazy...!'
Nell pounded her sleeping son, reaching across him as he lay in bed to draw the thin curtains & a let more of the bright morning sun flood into his untidy room. A pair of red eyes that were still heavy with sleep stared out from under the blankets hating her.
As they gradually focused, their attention was directed not at her but at the brown envelop being waved in front of them. Snappily Brendan took it from her & put it down on the' table. He threw back the covers & got slowly to his feet, looking unsteady and vaguely stupid in his striped pyjamas.
'Well go on! Open it!’
'Oh God...in a minute.’ he answered dully, stumbling out of the room towards the lavatory. 'Christ!' he blasphemed as he drew the catch.
Nell’s face piqued. She had annoyed him with her enthusiasm & now she felt as she had acted improperly as she waited lamely for him to come back. He felt rotten, but his mother should have learnt that he was always irritable in the morning, she should have known better than to expect anything from him, he always woke up badly.
Back in his room he attempted a grin, but it was morn of a grimace than anything else. His mouth tasted stale & he wished that she would go instead of standing awkwardly by the side of the bed, reminding him with her dejected figure that he had taken the edge off her happiness.
The letter was a formality, for when Brendan’s results had arrived they had known that he would be going to Queen's. And there it was, the official confirmation of his place. All that day Nell walked about in a daze. Her son, going to University! No one in her family had ever done that before. She phoned her sisters and, wanting to tell yet more people, during an unnecessary trip to the shops to drop into the conversation with her best English telephone voice:
'of course Brendan’s going to the University this Autumn you know,' drawing out the words to make the sentence last as long as possible. 'The' university, because Nell thought there was only one.
'What’s he going to do there?' Mrs Carmichael asked with a look of disgust.
She had either misheard or believed that university was a type of Borstal.
Nell thought for a moment. What would he do? More schoolwork? She had never thought to ask him & she did not have the vaguest idea how the university functioned. She felt rather foolish as she mumbled that he would 'learn Things'. It suddenly sounded rather pointless.
'But like what?' Mrs Carmichael asked. 'I mean...what sort of 'things'? Hasn’t he learnt enough already':''
Nell could see that she was not going be hobbled so easily. Sod her, she cursed inwardly. Why did some people always have to be so damned bloody clever?
"Oh, they learn all sorts of things nowadays. You know, you know...’ She was struggling & the other woman knew it.
'No I don't. I can’t imagine' why anyone has to stay on at school all the time they do now. I was out working when I was fourteen & I learnt all they had to teach me by then. My studying was over. What they’re filling their heads up with now I can't guess. Sitting at desks like big kids when they should be out earning money. '
'Oh, but they don’t look at it like that. They just go on learning. You can never get reading education it seems. When you’ve learned one thing there’s always something else' waiting to be studied. '
'Like what?''
God but she was being awkward this morning. Nell could have kicked her but didn't want to give her the satisfaction. Revising her list. 'Woodwork, philosophy, architecture'. Russian...'
'Russian! What’s the bleeding good in learning that unless he's going to spy. '
Some of the other neighbours started to laugh.
'Is it like a school then this University?'' one of them asked.
‘I don’t really know,’ Nell admitted in a voice, which was only a little flatter than usual. 'I expect it is. He’ll have to read a lot I suppose.
''Well I think its wonderful, just wonderful.’ Mr Maguire said nodding with approval. 'And I think we can all be grateful that a tiny' young man like Brendan is prepared to sacrifice his life to help others. '
Nell stared at him queerly.
“Tell me,' he said turning to her. 'When he comes out does he go straight into the priesthood, or do they send him away to the missions for further training? I mean, is he fully qualified, or does he have to do a bit of practical work first?’
''Och Maguire, You’ve got it wrong again,' Mrs Carmichael had growled. 'He’s going to university, not a bloody seminary. '
'Well, well,' Mr Maguire said, not one to be easily dismayed, 'I always said he’d turn out well.
''But what will you do when he vanishes?' Old Mrs Daly asked.
"That’s a point...’ said Mrs Carmichael turning to Nell. 'what will he do love, you know. when he’s finished?
''He’ll get a good job.
'Nell never doubted that this education Brendan was about to receive would fail to unlock the door to a successful live ever after. But the neighbours looked uneasily at each other.
'How long does it take then?'"
Three years, or more' if hr decides to go on even further.’
They drew in their breath.’ God, but that’s a long time. Better get his name down for the Post Office.

Eileen was genuinely pleased for her brother when she heard the news. She felt saddened too, because it meant that he would be leaving home, & she would miss him. 'They had always been good friends, always been close. She was also a bit scared by the prospect because she knew what it would mean. Brendan would not live with them again as part of the family. He would only ever return as a visitor, from the moment he left to embark on his university career. he would no longer be tied by his father's dominance & stubborn authority. He would be free of it, & Eileen knew that that fact alone would change Brendan. He would not be the brother she needed in adversity.
Still, she found consolation thinking that it would only be a matter of two years before she could expect to do the same. If it was possible. Her father had already attempted to bring her out of school when she finished her 'O' levels, but he had not carried out his threat. She was going back that September to the sixth form. But she knew that he was not above changing his mind & so the prospect hung over her like a dark cloud. But she had worked out a solution, if it became necessary. She would leave home at 18 anyway. There was nothing he could do about that. She would pack a bag and get out. He could not stop her. But she was worried by the next two years without Brendan to back her up. She felt indebted to her brother, because, just having someone older than her meant that she had extra time to work things out. She was legacee to Brendan's problems.
When Brendan began to question their faith at the age of sixteen, Eileen was there to experience those doubts with him. By the time she reached that age herself she had already had two years to sort out the same problems. It was as if being two years younger enabled her to develop a better understanding when she reached that same age. It was, she was sure, the only single advantage that she had over him. She was always the more decisive of the two, clearer in her ideas than he was. All their relatives coincided all it, that she seemed to understand things. She did. She understood that to her parents Brendan was really the only one that mattered. her understanding did not spare her any pain, but increased it.
When Brendan spoke her parents listened, especially her mother. Sometimes it almost drove her mad to see her mother being weighed down by Brendan’s adolescent authority. But she could not blame her brother for that. It saddened her to think that he might go through life believing in this power vested from God that all men possessed. He might end up like their father.
'I give the orders in this house!' their father would yell & his wife, standing behind her husband would nod meekly & agree, only right & fitting.
Eileen had spotted the warning signs, for Brendan was beginning to show that annoying arrogance he had first displayed at fourteen when Eileen had hated him. He came home from the Irish Christian Brothers' School one day saying, 'What have women ever done? Our physics teacher said women were just the tools of men & that it is our Christian duly not to take advantage of their natural inferiority, because he has made it like that for a purpose. Tools,' he repeated staring dreamily out o’the window.
Eileen had felt destroyed. She cried in bed not wanting to be merely a tool. It was so unfair. she could not even to an altar boy. And now again at eighteen he was lording it over his mother. treating her as though she was an idiot. Eileen hated seeing him behave like that. It drove her crazy.
'Make us a cup of tea,' he’d say & Nell would shoot out into the kitchen or, worse still. look up at Eileen & say 'well?' nodding towards the kitchen, because her son had made a request & it was right that the daughter should comply. She knew that if she had sat in a chair giving orders she would be told to get it herself', & called every name imaginable. If' it came from Brendan it was authority, but if it came from her it was just cheek. Eileen never budged.
Nell could have clouted her. She understood what was wrong with the girl lately. Didn't she see that she was worked to death? She had just come in & put the shopping down on the table & had to rush out to make tea. But Eileen never thought of offering, not that one, she’d just sit there & ignore everyone. Then she would get up & make herself a cup of tea, without thinking about anyone else. Bloody selfish that’s what she was. The last few days in particular she had been getting on Nell’s nerves. Sitting there without saying anything, leaving the room whenever she came in. Jealous. that’s what it was. She was jealous of Brendan because Brendan was clever.
As she thought of her son a flush of happiness spread across her face. She sorted in the bag for the chocolate biscuits she’d bought especially. She’d take him one with his tray. She had never understood him. She was temperamental, always had been. even as a baby she had done the most crying. She had not been as lovable as Brendan. Nell imagined him as he had been, chuckling away, playing with a rattle & felt a gag in her throat thinking how quickly her son had grown up. here he was about to go to university. She remembered his first day at school. He had held her hand nervously going up the road. But he had not given any trouble, sitting in behind a desk and starting to play with some coloured counters that he had found. He hadn't even seen her leave, so absorbed he was. She had come home & cried. It was funny to think of that.
But Eileen now, she wasn't at all like Brendan, not easy. Last night for instance, he had merely remarked that there was no sugar in his tea & she had hit the roof. Told him to get up & get it himself and called him all sorts of names.
She had to intervene.
'For God's sake stop arguing!' she had shouted. She hated rows between the kids.
She had enough to put up with from her husband without tho. se two following suit.
Get the sugar bowl, Eileen,' she told the girl & what did she do? She let loose a torrent of abuse at poor Brendan’s head and half the sugar lumps! They all went all over the floor. It was a good job their father wasn't there, he’d have killed them. She had a temper that one. God, life certainly was never boring with her around! Nell found herself grinning despite herself. Really it was something she had long wanted to do herself, chuck something at her husband. But it would have to be something a bit more weighty if it was to make any impression on his Thick skull, she thought - the kettle, or the coal bucket. But poor Brendan, it was quite comical really. She went back into the living room smiling.
'This came with the afternoon post,' Brendan said fishing a green application form out of his trouser pocket. 'It’s for the grant. I’ve already been down to the education offices & checked, I should qualify for the maximum. '
'Just as bloody well you do,' Nell said sipping her tea, 'because we couldn't afford to keep you. "
'No. Indeed. That is why I, that is, your son, will get a maximum grant...'
Brendan explained with deliberate slowness as if talking to someone with difficulty understanding.
Eileen glared at him. 'Just cut out the comedy, smart lad. '
'Oh, God, not you again!’ Nell said turning to her daughter. 'What’s wrong with you now?'
'He knows,' she said sullenly sinking back into her chair.
Brendan continued as if nothing had happened.
'The thing is, father has to fill out some bits, but ifs straightforward enough.
The sooner he does it, the sooner I’ll know for sure what I have to live on next year. '
His mother nodded. She did not ask to see the forms. Why should she? To the water, gas & electricity boards she did not exist. Her name never appeared on any official documents. Whenever brown manilla envelopes with little windows cut out in them came through the door she ignored them, for she had learnt that they were not her concern. It was only her husband who was requested to fill in forms, that was just the way it was & she no longer even had curiosity to see them.
'Show them to your father when he gets home tonight. With a bit of luck you could have them ready & back in the office by tomorrow. '
‘I’ve already filled in the bits I can: dates of birth, other dependant children & all that. So all he has to do is the part about income. '
It was straightforward enough, even rather simple. There should not have been any problems.
‘I’m not filling that bloody thing in, & that's final. His father's voice was harsh.
He was beginning to yell. ths face was obstinate, the chin stubborn & the mouth set. Brendan expected him to stamp his foot.
He knew that look on his father's face too well. Whenever he had to stick his tongue! into his chook as he was doing now it was a sure sign that he was in his fixed position. Putting his tongue in his cheek was a device he used to stop himself spluttering, which was undignified. It was always accompanied by speeded-up breathing, & a flush of irritation as he became more irrational & heated. Brendan knew that there was no point arguing with his father when he had reached that stage, but he thought he might be able to explain the consequences of his father's reaction & in this way alter the course of threatened events.
'But if you don't fill it in, I can't get a grant, & if I can't get a grant I can't go to university,' he explained tiredly. It was a wariness borne of knowledge of his father’s intractable nature.
'For God's sake,' Nell said, 'why can't you just fill the thing in. What harm is there?'
'Harm! he screamed, 'Harm! You expect me to tell everyone what I earn! Some tuppenny-happenny office clerk knowing how much I bring home every week? I’m not filling that in & that's an end to it. You’re entitled to a grant. They’ll have to give it to you. '
'Not unless you fill in the form. They won't take my word for it. Any one could go down there & say that their parents can't support them. They need to know how much you earn in order to make an accurate assessment; unless you arc suggesting that you would rather pay for mp, that is, that you are able to.’ Brendan’s voice was mocking.
‘Go to hell!' his father shouted, striking out blindly with his fist & winding his son in the belly. He had started panting. the look he gave his son was of hate. He despised the young buck, daring to suggest that he didn't earn enough. Let him try to earn his own living. Let’s see who does the best at it.
Go & work in bloody Ford's,' he spat.
Brendan sank back, tears beginning to well up. Don't cry in front of him. Don't let him see that you’re upset. Weak, a weakling, mummy's boy. Insults smarted in his head. So that was it, his father's plan for him. Work in Ford's. Don’t dare dream of getting away from that. It was good enough for him so it must be good enough for the son...
'Bullies and cowards,' his mother always told him whenever he got into trouble at school. 'Stand up to them & they go away. '
But this time it was not so simple. Brendan was powerless while his Father triumphed in the display of his control over the boy's life.
he remembered the first time that he' had stood up to his father’s temper. It was just a little over a year ago. Eileen was not quite fifteen. She was skinny & her hair was still in plaits then. He did not mind his father knocking him about but he could not bear to see him hitting Eileen. It wasn't fair. Even if repetition meant that it had become commonplace & to some extent the girl was used to it, it still didn't seem right to Brendan. he remembered the look of horror & surprise on her face when he had stood between her & their Father. Behind him his Father was still striking out with blows. It took him a while to register that it was no longer his daughter but Brendan’s back that the' fists were striking.
"The little slut! The little bitch! Lady bloody muck!'
All Brendan had wanted to do was cover his sister’s ears so that she would not hear any more insults. That was all he really intended. But once between them, he had swung round & landed a punch squarely in his father’s mouth. He couldn't remember who had been the most surprised. But it was the quickest solution to stop him shouting. "Thank God their Mother had not been there. Nothing was ever said about it after. Their Father pretended that it had not happened. But Brendan saw how he was less quick to hit Eileen after that.
he looked over now & saw his sister. She looked terrifying. She was white, completely white, the colour had drained out of her while she had listened to her father telling Brendan that he was still the one who gave the orders. Her father’s temper stirred the hatred in the girl. Right then she hated him with every inch of her wiry frame. She wanted to throw herself at him, beat him to blood pulp with her own small fists. Beat & beat until the life went out of him. She despised him for dredging up such violence from her when it should have lain deep & forgotten. Eileen was terrified by her emotions. She knew that at times like this she had anger enough to kill & she retched, disgusted with herself.
Nell was crying. Why did they always have to be arguing? Why couldn't they be like other families? All she wanted was some peace. A quiet life. Hadn't she worked hard all her life & got nothing easy? Hadn't she earned some rest? & this morning she had been so proud, proud enough for the whole street. She had felt as if she would burst until she told everyone her news. And now her husband had destroyed that feeling.
The pen lay on the table, the green application form next to it. All he had to do was to pick it up & sign it. If it was up to her, she would sign it. What possible difference could it make? She remembered the means test as a child. The men in grey overcoats standing in their kitchen. Looking at everything, assessing, making values, telling her mother what she ought to sell. Nell couldn't understand what right they had to come into their home, but she was only a child then. How was it possible? These strangers came & put a price on everything. Her mother’s head had hung down, sobbing.
'You've still got a table they told her roughly.
They went authoritatively into rooms opening cupboards, investigating.
'What are they looking for Mam?' she asked.
'Hush. Nothing, nothing. fm a woman on my own. I’ve no man now,' was all her mother ever said.
'Sell those ornaments,' they commanded. There was no room for attachments, or sentiment. They were poor now.
'Those rings on your finger, are they gold?'
'Please, please, Dear God,' Nell prayed, 'grant my son the chance I never had, Mother Mary I beg of you.’ She looked at the pen, it lay resolutely on the table.
Eileen was trying to catch her mother's attention. She waved her arms noiselessly from the kitchen door.
'What in God's name is wrong with that girl,' she thought. Fancy choosing now or all times to make them all tea! But over the hiss of the boiling kettle noise whispered conspiratorially:
'Why don't you fill it in - tomorrow, when he's at work?' She nodded in her father's direction. On the other side of the wall the image of her husband burned in Nell’s eyes.
'Oh God no, I can't,' she whispered.
'Why not?' the daughter persisted. I’ll forge his signature! Its simple - they won't bother to check & he need never know. '
'Its not that!' Oh, if only things could be so simple, she thought, suddenly feeling old & tired. 'Its not that at all. But I don't know...'
She hesitated, dreading her daughter's clear gaze.
'I mean...I don't know what he earns, he's never told me.’
Eileen's mouth opened as if to say something, then closed again. The girl looked stunned.
'Well, a man's got to have his little bit of self-respect,' Nell carried on, but it sounded hollow. She felt irritated. The girl was young yet, she would learn. She would come to see how things had to be a certain way, how things were done.
'Well, you know,' she continued, 'its always been like that.’
Eileen wasn't listening. She was sobbing gently over the tray. Nell was surprised. She felt a sudden overwhelming surge of love for her daughter. Her own eyes began to prick with tears, seeing her own child, the one who was always ready to fight back, to hold her own, now hanging limply, the life gone out of her.
Nell picked up the tray & marched aggressively into the living room. But her courage left her as soon as she saw him. The cups rattled. She put the tray down & it rang like a bell against the polished surface of the table. There was no other sound. Keeping her hand steady she poured him a cup. He took it from her without a word and began to slurp. Christ, he irritated her sometimes! She looked around. Both Brendan and Eileen had disappeared. She felt nervous. She poured herself a cup of tea and raised it shakily to her lips, but she had no taste for it & let it sink back onto the tray before' she too left the room.
Something had to bi' done. Nell couldn't sleep that night - or the next. There was no point arguing with him. The more he was pushed, the more he resisted. She knew him too well. what may have been over-reaction now became solid policy. If he were to give in now, he would look weak, irresolute. So while Brendan had pleaded, desperately, he had furthered no cause other than his father’s obstinacy.
That morning he had asked his father if he would consider disowning him legally. He had found out that he wouldn't need the signature if he was 'disinherited'. The word had made Brendan laugh. What did he stand to inherit beyond his father's name? His father's example?
He had sworn at Brendan, called him a bastard anyhow. I’ve got no son! You're no son for me!' He had stormed out of the room after striking haphazardly at Brendan's head.
They were at stalemate: he refused to talk and, of course, he would not disown his son publicly. Nell could have told Brendan as much. What a scandal! So while he walked around pretending to have no son, playing a game of silence with him, ignoring him & looking past him & enjoying his own stubbornness, his ploy of 'let's see who cracks first!, he would not put his argument on solid ground. It was private. he wasn't going to have some clever-dick lawyer meddling in his business!
Nell lay in the dark listening to him breathing. God how he slept - with a clear conscience. She was tortured. She so desperately wanted her son to go to University. It was so near her grasp to be so cruelly wrenched away - & by her husband! There was no sense, no logic, in what was happening. What should have been a wonderful occasion had been changed to one of misery. Tears ran down her face. Why was he doing this to her? He was blighting his own son's life, nipping the bud before it flowered. When Brendan should have been given every chance to get on in life, she thought, how could he make his way in the world if his own father blocked him? To Nell it was a matter of utmost urgency. One day Brendan would have to support a family. Surely he would stand a better chance if he was educated. Why couldn't her husband see that!
'Jesus, send me guidance,' she implored.
At the first light she rose & blessed herself with holy water from the wall font. ‘In the name of the Father & of the Son & of the Holy Ghost, Amen,' she recited mechanically.
She might have been the ghost, she thought ruefully as she caught sight of herself in the dressing-table mirror - the unheard, unseen, performing the sign of the cross. Why couldn't she sign the form? Why did it have to be their father? Father! Father.
Bloody father she cursed, but an idea began to form. While she knew that she was powerless to make him listen, she did know that there was somebody else, somebody whom she would only have to threaten him with.
The following Saturday she came home with her shopping basket & laid it squarely on the kitchen table in front of him.
The price of butters gone up. And cat food! Look at this,' she said piling tins up in a pyramid & pointing to the price labels. We'll have to shoot the cat next!
The ginger tom looked up at her, then put its head between its paws and continued to sleep. The newspaper rustled slightly. From behind it her husband mumbled something.
“I called in on Father Gallghan...’ she continued brightly, hoping her anxiety would not show, 'to ask for advice. '
Had her voice suddenly grown louder? She must try to keep it even.
“I thought that he might be able to help us. About Brendan. '
'What?' He laid his paper to one side & stared at her.
“Well’ she said trying not to flinch. “I just thought that he might know a way of getting round those forms. You know...I moan...maybe he could sign them for us and vouch that we can't afford to keep Brendan at University. They would have to accept the word of a priest, wouldn't they?'
His mouth dropped open.
“I only explained to him how difficult it was...I mean, it is, isn't it?'
She tried to sound as if she was in agreement.
'I don't know what you earn, so I can't fill it in. '
'You told the priest that!'
“Well of course. I had to explain the situation. I must say, he did seem rather surprised. He kept saying that he had always found you to be reasonable before. Funny that isn’t it?" She hoped she sounded guileless. “I mean, you said yourself that they had no right to ask you such things. I explained that you were refusing on the grounds of privacy..." but she looked acutely embarrassed... '- it's nothing to be ashamed of, you said so yourself.’
“I'm ashamed all right!' he yelled. "I'm ashamed of my bloody wife! That she could be so damned stupid!’
Nell winced as if she had been struck. This was what she was most scared of. She had to remain cool & not shout back, for if she lost her temper she might tell him the truth - that she was too ashamed to speak to anyone' about it. She could not have endured the pity from her neighbours, pity for being married to such an oaf. She kept him secret for her own self-respect.
'Anyway, Father Gallghan said that he would come round to have a quick word with you...he'll probably sign the forms then.’ She tried to sound as if she really believed it.
'You stupid cow! By Christ. 'I'll kill you!' His face was pink.
'whatever is wrong?'
'Do you always go blabbing to the bloody priest, letting him know all our business? What are you. a total moron?'
Nell looked at him straight. 'I always tell the priest...everything. '
He had never struck her. He thought she ought to be grateful. He was a model husband because he did not beat his wife. The kids...well, that was discipline. God, he didn't want to see the priest now!
'Get me those forms!' he ordered. he would sign the things & have done with it. 'And you can tell the priest it was a false alarm!''
He'd fix it. Tell him his silly wife had made a mistake - 'Ha, ha, you know Father, ha, ha, women...’ that would do it.
Upstairs Eileen was jumping & hugging her brother who held the green form ready to go into an envelope. His future was spared.
'Come & live with me when you're 18,' he said. "Then you will be a legal entity. Dad won't be able to mess you around. '
Brendan knew that she would have a harder time of it. He put his arms round her wanting to offer support. She felt steel-framed & angular. Ue felt her hesitate a moment, as if she would push him away. His sister needed no one. he had always been a little in awe of her resolve. She had an ability to go out & get things done on her own. She did not need the approval of others that he so desperately sought. Now he needed her. He wanted to know that he could help her & that she would not reject him. Eileen did not blame her brother. 'You'll face this in two years. only mam won't support you like she has me you know. '
She knew. She had learnt it long ago. She softened & they both cried onto each other's shoulders as they had when they were small & used to fight & stop to make friends, each sobbing with fear that the other would not want to.
Downstairs their mother was giving thanks in front of the statue of Our Lady.
'In the name of the Father & of the Son,' she began without the slightest trace of irony.