Lima, Ohio – 2011

Kurt sat on the slick floor of the hallway outside the gym at McKinley High. He had found his missing shoe and was putting it back on, having wiped the slushie ice from the surface with a towel. He was late again for Honors English and he knew he would get a ration of shit from his teacher. Hed have to make this up with an extra paper of something for Mrs Sharrone.

At first, he had tried to explain to his teachers why he was late – showing them the evidence of the sticky blue corn syrup that stained his designer shirt, but all she said was that everyone else managed to make it to class on time, so he gave up and just allowed extra time for the hazing in the hallways.

It had been lonely at first, going to McKinley, but he had made some sort-of friends. Girls who didnt mind hanging around with someone non-threatening who could help with design problems and small sewing repairs between classes. A boy that didnt try to put his hand down their blouse or up their skirt under the bleachers or in a deserted hallway. He was a gentleman.

Then they found out he was not what they thought – that he was a fag. Word went around in a matter of a few days, everyone knew and nobody was lacking an opinion.

It started with the words on his locker. FAG. QUEER. HOMO. Then they stopped talking to him. Including the girls he thought of as his friends, Mercedes and Tina, and even Rachel Berry. He wanted to cry, but instinct told him not to give in to that. That would be the end for him if they found him weak. So he held his head up and did his best to stay at the top of his classes in grades and he just stayed out of everybodys way.

Kurt was in a quandary. He knew he couldnt go to the administration for help, hed probably be killed in the hall if he turned anyone in for their bullying. He couldnt go to his dad, the pressure of trying to run his own business was already so bad. Kurt tried to help his dad, working in the garage on the weekends and doing the purchase orders and inventory. But telling his dad what was going on at school – telling his dad the truth of what he was - it was just not possible. So Kurt endured it.

He was probably at the breaking point when he finally saw a glimmer of hope. Sitting at the Lima Chocolate Shop, he was looking around, trying to keep his eyes busy as he finished his hot chocolate. There were a few McKinley students in the shop and Kurt wanted to finish and get out of there before one of them noticed him in the corner. He propped a newspaper in front of his face to avoid detection.

There on the page was a small ad. It was from a nursing home looking to recruit some “Angels”: volunteers to come and visit the aging residents. Kurts thoughts clouded. He remembered faintly going around St Marys with his mother, seeing all the older people smile as she brought cheer to their lives. Then he thought of all the joy in baking tarts and cookies and pies for the shut-ins of the church and visiting them with his grandmother every Sunday. Maybe this was something he could do to bring some balance back into his life? He pulled the page from the paper and folded it neatly, sticking it into his messenger bag. He finished the last drops of the hot chocolate and cleaned up his little table, brushing the crumbs from his biscotti and leaving the shop.

~ ~ ~ KB ~ ~ ~

“May I help you?” a skinny woman, dressed in a light blue uniform and wearing a name tag that announced she was Vickie, Activity Director at Kenton Manor Assisted Living Centre.

“My Name is Kurt Hummel. I saw your ad in the paper, asking for volunteer Angels” and I thought I might apply.”

She looked him over, touching her finger to her lip.

“No. Sorry, but you wont do. What are you? Fifteen? No,” she said and turned on her heel to walk briskly back down the dingy hallway.

Kurt ran after her.

“But...why? I have experience. I can help, honest!”

“Why do you want to do this, sonny? Put a blurb on your extra-curriculars for your Ivy League college application? No. I dont train boys who just want to get the name and then quit. I do not have the time, and these people dont deserve to be used. So, out the door, go volunteer at the animal shelter or build houses for the poor or something,” Vickie said, not unkindly, but with a note of finality to her decision.

“That is not why I want to do it. Please, can we talk? I miss my mom, I miss my grandma and the only thing I can think to do is what I did with them – try to bring a bit of sunshine into someone elses life. Is that so bad? Do you have so many volunteers that you can afford to turn me down?” he pleaded. She seemed unmoved by his words and walked away.

“Cant you give me one, tiny chance?” he asked, but his voice said he was already defeated. Maybe he could go to the church over a few blocks and talk to someone there about it. He leaned against the wall, closed his eyes in sorrow and tried to gather some strength.

“Pssst,” he heard.

Looking around, he didnt see anyone. Maybe he mis-heard.

“Pssst...hey, boy. Come in here and shut the door,” a weak voice said. He stood up, looked and saw a woman in a hospital bed, her head covered in an old fashioned nightcap, her pink blanket pulled up to her chest. The old woman had wispy white hair peeking out from under her cap, rosy cheeks, and wire-frame glasses that made her bright eyes look like blueberries. She could say she was the wife of Santa Clause and anyone would believe her. She was beckoning him into the room.

“Yes, Maam, can I help you?” he asked, the politeness coming back without a thought.

“Honey, come sit on my bed for a moment, I need to talk to you,” she said, patting the edge of the bed, near a folded log cabin quilt. Kurt looked and saw a folding chair leaning against a wall and brought it over instead.

“Hello, Sweetie. I couldnt help but hear you in the hallway,” she said, her Irish lilt bringing tears to Kurts eyes as he remembered his grandmothers voice.

“Yes, Maam. Could I maybe get something for you?” he asked, not sure why she called him in here. “I......that woman said I cant be one of the volunteers, but I could help you before I go,” he said kindly.

“Oh, sonny, it brings joy to my ears to find someone your age with such manners and kindness, but its not me that needs help today. Its you, isnt it?” she asked with a sweet smile.

Kurt smiled back.

“My name is Brenna Eileen OGrady. I come from County Kilkenny, but have been in Lima since I was a girl. Please call me Brenna,” she said, her tiny voice full of smiles.

“Thank you, Miss Brenna. My name is Kurt Hummel, and I live here in Lima,” Kurt said, finding himself smiling at the sweet woman. “My grandmother was from Kilkenny, too.”

Brenna smiled. Yes, she was right. She knew the look of this young man – he must be of the family of her friend from childhood.

“You know, Kurt, I went to church in St Marys when I was young. I had a best friend there. She came over to America a little before I did and she helped me learn to live here. I was so sad, missing my folks and my sisters and brothers. She would sing to me – I remember the song still.” She got a sad look to her face and opened her mouth to sing. It was weak and the notes wobbled, but he could see she heard it differently:

“Oh, Inisfree, my island, Im returning
From wasted years across the wintry sea.
And when I come back to my own dear Ireland,
Ill rest a while beside you, gradh mochroidhe.”

Kurts eyes misted, too, and he took up where her old voice could not continue:

“Ive met some folks who say that Im a dreamer,
And Ive no doubt theres truth in what they say,
But sure a bodys bound to be a dreamer
When all the things she loves are far away.
And precious things are dreams unto an exile.
They take her oer the land across the sea --
Especially when it happens shes an exile
From that dear lovely Isle of Inisfree.

And when the moonlight peeps across the rooftops
Of this great city, wondrous though it be,
I scarcely feel its wonder or its laughter.
Im once again back home in Inisfree. “

Brenna was still smiling, but the tears were rolling down her face as she took his hand and squeezed it. He knew all the verses and sang every one of them for her as her focus on him grew fuzzy and he knew she couldnt see him anymore, her eyes were seeing the legendary forty shades of green back in her homeland. She was back there now, he thought, at least in her daydream and he hated for the song to end almost as much as she did.

“Oh, Kurt, you have the voice of an angel, my dear. I know you must think Im an old soft-headed and silly woman, but it has been thirty years since I heard anyone sing that song. Where did you learn it?”

“My grandmother used to sing it. She and my mother. I learned it when I was a very little boy. If it makes you happy, I can sing it any time you like,” he smiled. This...this is what he missed about being with his grandmother. The sheer joy in a face to which happiness had long been a stranger.

“What was her name?”

“Maureen Whelan.”

“Reenie!” Brenna said, now all but breathless, the happiness exploding in her heart. “Reenie OBannon! She and I were thick as thieves, we were. She stayed in St Marys?”

“No, my mother was born there and then my grandparents moved to Kettering. When my mom died, Grandma came to live with us. Grandpa had died years ago and Grandma was by herself. She lived with us for three years before she passed,” Kurt said, his heart not as heavy as it had been now he had met someone that knew his family.

Brenna looked so happy, holding Kurts hand and patting it.

“Im that sorry shes gone, Kurt. I can hear in your voice how much you miss her. My own family is all gone now. Most of them never came here, and I never went back. It was a bad time when I was sent here – too many mouths to feed, not enough to go around. I was sent with a group of girls from the church. We stayed together until one by one marriage took us. I never got married. I worked as a nanny for different folks, and I still have visits from the children I helped raise. They are good to me, but I do get lonely from time to time. I could use an Angel, you know. Someone who could come and sing the old songs to me. Would you be willing to do that, Kurt Hummel? Vickie cant tell you not to visit me, you know,” Brenna said with a naughty-girl look on her face.

Kurt giggled.

“Okay, Miss Brenna. You have a deal. I will be back tomorrow after school with a new song for you,” he smiled. She looked tired out, so he put the folding chair back and kissed her head the way his mother and grandmother always did for him. “Goodnight, Miss Brenna,” he whispered as he saw her nod into sleep.

~ ~ ~ KB ~ ~ ~

School didnt seem so bad after that. Kurt went to visit Miss Brenna three times a week after school. She taught him to play cribbage, but she never let him win. He still remembered the day he beat her and shouted so loud the nurses came running in to see what had happened. He made peace with Vickie the Activity Director and was able to use the piano in the recreation room. Kurt didnt play, but there were several in the home that did and were happy to accompany the young man who made Miss Brenna so happy.

He was singing the songs she remembered from so long ago – songs Kurts mother and grandmother sang to him. Wild Mountain Thyme, The Rose of Tralee, Whiskey in a Jar, Star of the County Down, The Fields of Athenry. The one he refused to sing was his mothers favorite and he knew he would never get through it without tears, so Danny Boy was not on the list. Miss Brenna understood, and never asked again, but when she was feeling nostalgic and sad one day, he sang Turra Lurra Lurra to her, stroking her forehead until she was asleep under her fluffy pink shawl.

He didnt notice the old man who walked down the hall by himself, avoiding the other residents and staff. He was outside the room when Kurt took his leave, patting Miss Brennas shoulder and kissing her hair. Kurt hurried from the room, tears blinding his eyes as he ran to get home and cook his fathers supper. The old man stood in the hall, watching as Kurt ran, a gasp in his breath and astonishment in his eyes.

~ ~ ~ KB ~ ~ ~

“What smells so good?” Burt asked, sniffing as he walked in the back door on a Saturday.

“Lunch! Are you hungry? Im making some food for Miss Brenna and I thought I would make you some, too,” Kurt smiled.

“Sounds great, bud. What is it?”

“I had leftovers from Friday night supper, so I made boxty and coddle,” Kurt said, dishing up a big bowl of potatoes with sausage, back bacon, and seasoned with onions. The slice of boxty bread was on a separate plate with fresh butter. Burt grinned. It was like his mother-in-law was back.

“Thanks, Kurt, this is wonderful. That woman, Miss Brenna, does she like this stuff?” he asked.

“I dont know. Im not usually there at supper so I didnt know how bad the food was until one of the other residents told me. Miss Brenna never complains about anything. So I thought I would surprise her today. They eat supper at five, so I need to get going by four and I still have all of this to pack,” he smiled at his dad.

“She is one lucky gal to have you, Kurt. Im so proud of you, trying so hard to make another person happy. You remind me so much of your mother,” he said, tears in his eyes.

“Oh, Dad! Dont cry. Im just happy to be of some use to someone.”

At a quarter of five, Kurt pulled up in front of Kenton Assisted Living and got out, bringing the large box with him. He walked to a room at the end of the corridor that was often empty and set up the food, then went to get Miss Brenna. She would be in her wheelchair now, getting ready for supper.

“Hello, Miss Brenna,” Kurt said, walking into the room.

“Kurt! What are you doing here on a Saturday evening? You should be out kissing the girls,” she laughed, so pleased to see him.

“Im coming to pick up my favorite girl to take her to supper with me,” he said, handing her a daisy and taking the handles of her wheelchair and guiding it down the hall. Hed cleared this with Miss Brennas nurse first, of course.

As they got closer, the scents of the good food were making their way down the hall and Miss Brennas face was all smiles.

“Did your granny teach you to make this meal, young man?” she asked.

“Yes, Maam,” he said, turning the last corner. She held up her hand to stop him. He came around to see what she needed, kneeling down in front of her.

“Kurt, this is the best thing you could do for me, and I love you for it...but might I ask another favor?” she looked up at him with her bright blueberry-colored eyes.

“Of course! What can I do for you?” he asked, ready to grant her any favor.

“There is a gentleman I eat supper with on Saturdays. Can we invite him to dine with us?” she asked, the need clear on her face. Kurt was touched that she would remember her friend and readily agreed.

“There is plenty for all of us,” Kurt said.

And so, a few minutes later, they were dining in the extra room and Kurt was meeting Miss Brennas friend.

“Kurt Hummel, this is my friend, Andy. He lives here, but he hides from everyone and never leaves his room except to eat,” she said, a stern look on her face. Andy blushed. He put out a hand to shake Kurts.

“It is so nice to meet a friend of Miss Brennas, Im so happy you could join us, Mr...?” Kurt inquired.

“Please, just call me Andy,” he said with finality.

“Andy. Are you familiar with traditional Irish food?” Kurt asked. When Andy shook his head in the negative, Kurt explained the Dublin Coddle with the sausages, bacon, potatoes and onions; and the boxty bread with fresh butter to mop up the juices from the coddle on the plate. “Then for dessert, we have a raspberry pie – not traditional Irish, but the first thing my grandmother ever taught me to bake,” Kurt oozed enthusiasm, seeing the joy in Miss Brennas face.

“Are you going to join us?” Andy asked the young man.

“No, I ate with my dad. You two enjoy, Ill just sit here and keep you company,” he said.

“Maybe you could sing?” Brenna suggested. She knew how much Andy loved music and she thought if he could hear Kurt, he might smile more.

“Any requests?” Kurt asked.

“No, just anything you like. Maybe something slow and lovely?” Brenna asked. Kurt smiled. He had a song that had been rattling around in his head for a while. Singing it might get it to go away. He hummed to himself for a minute, making sure he was on tune.

“Imagine there is no heaven
Its easy if you try
No hell below us
Above us only sky

Imagine all the people
Living for today

Imagine theres no countries
It isnt hard to do
Nothing to kill or die for
And no religion, too

Imagine all the people
Living life in peace

You may say Im a dreamer
But Im not the only one
I hope someday you will join us
And the world will be as one”

Kurt has been concentrating on the song, his gaze on something in the far distance when he heard a small sob. He stopped, looking at Miss Brenna, but she was busy chewing her sausage. His gaze turned to Andy and the man was sitting, staring at Kurt – tears running down his cheeks.

“Dont stop, I pray to you, finish the song,” he said, his voice broken.

Kurt finished, then went to the man.

“Im so sorry...I didnt mean to upset you,” he said, truly remorseful.

“No, young man I loved the song – it just brought back some good memories.”

“Kurt, could you take me back to my room?” Miss Brenna interrupted. “Im very tired.”

“Of course. Andy? I will be right back to clean this,” Kurt said, taking Miss Brennas wheelchair and guiding her back to her room. Her nurse was waiting to get her back to bed and she said a hasty goodbye to Kurt.

“Listen, Kurt,” she whispered, pulling him down so she could say it in his ear. “Work your magic on Andy. He is a wonderful man, but he is so lonely. He needs your kindness. See what you can do. Im counting on you, sweetie.”

And with that, he was shooed from the room.

“Andy, sorry to run out, but she looked so tired,” he apologized as he walked back into the room.

“No apology necessary, Kurt. I was just finishing this good food. Did you cook it?” he asked.

“Yes. My grandmother taught me to cook when my mother died. I thought it might bring a tiny bit of Ireland back to Miss Brenna. She misses her childhood home, I think,” he said. Andy smiled at the kind thought. He had been almost sure last week when he heard Kurt sing, and now after meeting him he knew -

“...and thats why we moved here to Lima,” Kurt finished the story explaining how he came to be here. Andy missed most of it, but it didnt matter.

“You...sing so well, Kurt. Do you belong to a club at school?” he asked, knowing a lot of young people joined show choir nowadays with all the interest in those contest shows.

“No, Im not...I dont do extra stuff at school. I spend my time here, helping where I can.”

“Oh, youre one of our Volunteer Angels,” Andy said.

“Yeah. At first Vickie turned me down, but Miss Brenna asked me to stay and now I guess Vickie sort of trusts me. I did it as a way to help others, though, not for some selfish reason like she thought. I just wanted to give someone a smile, you know?” Kurt said.

“So, there arent so many smiles in your own life then, Kurt?” he asked.

“Maybe not so many, but Im fine. I wont have to live in Ohio forever,” he said bitterly.

Andy broke out laughing.

“I said those very same words myself once, but I never ended up moving away,” he admitted.

“Why not?”

“The love of my life was here, I couldnt go,” he said, tears stinging his eyes as those same thoughts from earlier came back.

“Oh! I am so sorry. It seems like Im always stepping my big foot into it. I dont know what I said...?” Kurt panicked. He wanted to make friends with this man, this friend of Miss Brennas. He liked Andy the minute he met him, and here he was upsetting the man once again.

“Sit, if you would, Kurt. Relax and talk to me,” Andy invited and his voice was so warm that Kurt found himself quite under his spell. He sat down and as they talked, Kurt felt like he had known Andy all of his life.

“Do you have anyone special, Kurt? Someone in your life that you find you cant live without?” Andy asked.

Kurt studied the man. Andy sat in the chair, a smile gathered in the wrinkles of his ancient mouth, and his eyes sparkled behind the wire-framed glasses perched on his nose to give him a younger appearance. Kurt had no idea how old Andy was. He had a full head of soft curls that were still more black than silver, a lithe body that still showed signs of muscle under the neat fabric of his clothes. He was wearing dress trousers with an oxford shirt, a knitted cardigan and of all things, a bow tie. If he had been closer to Kurts age, the boy would have swooned.

Andy seemed to be studying him, too. He looked at Kurts face, concentrating on his eyes. Andys were a honey-toned hazel brown with tiny flecks of a moss green that brought out the twinkles in spite of the thick glasses he wore.

“Ah...sorry, I didnt mean to stare, Andy. I just – it feels like we have met before? Do I know you, perhaps from St Marys? I lived there before we moved here to Lima,” Kurt said.

“No, I dont think so. I would remember you, Kurt.”

“Oh, well, silly me...” Kurt said, uncomfortable.

“Hey, now. Dont be upset. I think its often times that when you meet someone you are instantly connected to, it seems like youve know them before. I dont think its anything to worry about. You do feel comfortable with me, dont you?” Andy asked.

“Yeah, I do. I really do,” Kurt said, feeling a warmth seep into has body at the thought of being friends with Andy. He felt so right, like a puzzle piece dropping into place and suddenly jarring his world into focus.

“Andy? Do you feel comfortable with me?” Kurt asked, wondering why the man continued to look at him so hard, as if he could read Kurts heart. He wondered if Andy would like him so much if he knew Kurt was gay. The boy frowned at himself, that wasnt called for at all! Why would it matter? He tried to bring his thoughts under control once again.

“Kurt, are you okay? You do seem to be...preoccupied? Perhaps you need to get home now. I bet your dad is missing you,” he said.

“Yeah...I better go, thank you for helping me clean up,” he said.

“Thank you for the meal, it was the best food Ive had in years,” Andy said in heart-felt complement. “Please, come by and visit me again soon, Ive enjoyed this so much.” He stood and held out his hand to Kurt, who took it in his own. There was an instant spark and Kurt jumped a bit, giggling.

“Goodnight, Kurt.”

“Goodnight, sir, it was so nice to have met you,” Kurt returned.

Kurt walked back out to his car, his step lighter than it had been for a very long time.