Page 57 of Riding the Pine

Bags take about twenty minutes. I wonder if it’s a staff thing. An entire team of hockey players just arrived with a tremendous amount of luggage. We could have hopped back there and helped them get all our shit out of the hold.

It’s another twenty or so before we get to where we’re staying. We don’t play hockey until tomorrow, so we have the rest of theday to chill, brush up on our rugby, and get a full night’s sleep under our belts.

Even the thought of sleep makes me yawn. Doesn’t bode well for making it through the whole day but I hope excitement carries me through.

There’s a pang in my chest that my girl isn’t here with me to explore. And a further ripple of bitterness passes through my body that unless something major changes for me in my life, I’ll never be able to just randomly go somewhere with her on a whim.

I want to show her the world.

I can’t even afford to show her Iowa.

Damn it. I need to check in with her, tell her I’m here safe and sound, and that I miss her, because I do.

I don’t believe in playing hard to get. I don’t believe in pretending you don’t have feelings for someone. Life’s too short for that shit. We only live once. And having spent two years knowing Athena and keeping her at arm’s length when all I wanted to do was have her in my arms I guess I’m done with the waiting and ready for the happily ever after part.

Scott: Hey pretty girl, we got to the hotel, I’m unpacked, showered, and have eaten two granola bars. Flight was good, slept a little, hated the breakfast. I hope you’re sleeping soundly but check in with me in the morning when you wake up. I miss you already. I love you always.

Hoping I’m not coming on too strongly, I hit send before toweling off my hair and falling onto the bed for a beat to appreciate just how lucky I am. I’ve got the sport, I’ve got the girl, and I’m in fucking Ireland.Ireland.

I must have drifted off because I wake up to the sound of my phone chiming and someone thumping on my door.

I answer my phone, first. If it’s somehow Athena, I want to talk to her before I talk to her brothers on the other side of my door.

Bright Eyes: I love and miss you as well, but you’re in Ireland. Go have fun. No marrying a pretty Irish woman though, or you’ll see my claws.

Something stirs inside me at the inferred jealousy. Apparently, I find Athena claiming her territory sexy as hell. Who knew I was a whore for a possessive, on-the-cusp of violence woman?

I heart her message on my way to the door. The peephole tells me I was right, her brothers are standing there, dressed and ready to explore. Ass naked, I fling the door open, and they walk into my room facing my bare ass walking away from them to get dressed.

I flip them off over my shoulder. “Don’t give me any shit. I fell asleep. Plane was uncomfortable as shit. Gimme five.”

It’s not even five minutes later when we leave our digs and head into the city. Our first stop is a giant-ass blue fish. The only reason we’re here is because someone was walking past with a giant portion of fries with something on top, and Ares asked where they got it.

“Why’s there a massive mosaic fish in the middle of Belfast?” Apollo looks at me like I should know.

I shrug but pull out my phone to search. My phone says it’s 26F, there’s a light dusting of snow around, but people are bundled up like Armageddon is coming. I’m not sure whether or not to laugh, there’s barely any snow around and drivers are crawling at snail’s pace on the roads as well. When I step on a patch of ice and almost end up on my ass, the universe flips me off for being arrogant about living in Iowa.

“To point at the poutine food truck, duh.” Ares strides up to the truck and orders brunch… lunch? Is it brunch if it’s noon?Either way, he orders the le diable, poutine with diced chorizo and hot sauce—crazy bastard—while I look up more information about this random fucking fish.

“The fish, or the Salmon of Knowledge, is called Pat, and you’re supposed to pat him for good luck. He was a celebration for the regeneration project of the river.” I gesture over the fish to the water.

Apollo walks toward the fish to study it, while Artemis orders the Québécoise which is poutine with bacon, mushrooms and extra cheese curds. It all sounds delicious and not in the least bit Irish, so I feel a little guilty, but notsoguilty that I’m going to ignore my gurgling stomach.

Apollo and I order the traditional poutine, and we all read the tiles on the fish as we wait.

“Do you think the poutine’s going to be any good? Do Irish people eat poutine? Are there Canadians in Ireland?” Ares’s voice is panicked, like he’s afraid his lunch will suck, and he’ll need to wait even longer to find food.

Hangry Ares is an asshole. Well, more of an asshole than usual.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine, hermano.” Apollo pats his back, but there’s a look in his eye that says the people of Belfast need to beware, if his brother doesn’t get fed soon.

We get our food and set off to walk around the city. Our first stop is St. George’s market. It’s a large, red brick building with huge dark green gates on the way in. One of the signs tells us there are over two hundred stalls selling “fruit, vegetables, antiques, books, clothes, hot food, cakes and buns, crafts and a large selection of fresh fish.”

It’s the sweet smell lingering on the air that makes my freshly full-of-poutine stomach grumble.

By the time we’ve done a loop of the market, we have crepes from La Crêperie, croissants and cake from Piece of Cake, andthe guys have picked up a couple pieces of jewelry from Sugar Island Crafts for their mom, abuelita, and sister.

I’m a little jealous that I can’t shop freely for Athena, but I pick up a small, framed picture of the giant Harland and Wolff cranes we could see from the fish, and a handcrafted, beaded bracelet pretending it’s for Mom. If she wears it, they'll then know it was a lie, so she’ll have to keep it hidden until she’s ready to announce our love to the world. I almost snort. She’s making me all poetic and shit.

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