Page 3 of An Irish Summer

“Dad, I’m serious.”

“So am I,” he said. “It’s a self-fulfilling prophecy, Chels. If you decide nothing is going to work, then nothing is going to work. You might as well give up now.” My mom swatted him in the chest, and he only shrugged, a gentle smile forming at his own joke.

“I know the receptionist position at the office doesn’t have the best salary, but you could always live here,” my mom said, gesturing upstairs in the direction of my old bedroom as if this was obvious. “At least until you could save a little cash. This is your home, remember?”

The thought alone of moving back home and working as a receptionist for my parents was suffocating. And the more we talked about it, the more I felt the walls closing in.

And the more appealing Ireland was actually starting to sound.

“Thanks,” I said, searching for a way to sayabsolutely notwithout offending her. I came up empty, so for the second time today I said nothing else.

“Think of it as a stepping stone,” she said. “I mean, you want to settle in a suburb of Boston eventually, don’t you? Have a steady job, live in a nice house, be near your friends and family?”

“I mean, yeah, but—”

“But what? This is how you’re going to get there, honey. Sometimes we have to make sacrifices.” She took a big swig of her wine, keeping her eyes locked on mine.

She was right, to some extent. That was what I wanted, wasn’t it? What I planned for? The steady job and the nice house in the Boston suburbs? That’s what they had, and what everyone else in my life seemed to have, and what I definitely wanted to have. And at the end of the day, there was happiness in security, wasn’t there? Wasn’t happiness a roof over your head, food on the table, book club, local farmers’ markets, the things that shaped my childhood?

“Besides”—my dad shrugged—“what else are you going to do?”

The question crowded the air between us. There was no way I was really considering this, was there?

“I could, uh, I could move to Ireland,” I said before I could think better of it, my forced laugh echoing around the kitchen. My mother’s gasp was quick to follow.

“You couldwhat?”

“That was Jack and Helen’s solution.” I tried to play it off like I thought it was ridiculous, but once the words were out there, I no longer had such a clear picture of where I stood. I mean, Iknewit was ridiculous, but so was struggling throughthe summer here and ending up in my parents’ office, wasn’t it? “Helen’s sister runs a hostel in Galway,” I continued, “and she offered me a job for the summer if I wanted to get away while I sorted things out.”

“Well, that sounds like one hell of an opportunity, doesn’t it?” My dad’s smile was growing by the minute, his eyes darting back and forth between my mom and me. “What? You two don’t think so?”

“Alan, be realistic.”

“What’s unrealistic about that? Sounds like a job, housing, an adventure. Chelsea girl, why didn’t you mention this sooner?”

“I don’t know. Because it’s kind of crazy,” I said. “I have no business in Ireland.”

“And what business do you have in Boston now?”

“Alan,” my mother scolded. “She has plenty of business in Boston. Like coming to work at the office when Megan leaves.”

“No, he’s right,” I said, surprising myself. “Without the job and my apartment, I have nothing in the city, do I?”

“Oh, I didn’t realize we were chopped liver. Would you look at that, honey? We mean nothing to our own daughter,” my mom said, bringing a hand to her chest.

“Ah, yes,” I said. “The Jewish guilt card. Nice play.” She winked, as if the compliment wasn’t sarcastic. “But still,” I backtracked. “I’m not sure there’s anything for me in Ireland, either.”

“That’s a bold claim for someone who’s never been to Ireland,” my dad said, eyeing me from his spot across the table. “What makes you so sure it isn’t for you?”

“It isn’t the city,” I said, gesturing vaguely around me like it was obvious. “I’m not a country girl, you know that. I’m sure allthe space and the quiet is nice for some people, but not for me.” Too much quiet made my head spin.

“Galway isn’t the middle of nowhere,” my dad said, suppressing a chuckle. “It’s a city too, you know. Maybe not this big, but one worth experiencing I would think. Don’t you think so, Wen?”

“Sounds like a big risk,” my mom said. “We have no idea what the hostel is like, or the people, or the room you’ll be staying in. And this doesn’t really contribute to your future, does it? It just delays the inevitable?”

“If she has nothing lined up anyway, would it kill her to take a few months to figure out said future?”

“She’s right here, you know,” I said, gesturing to myself, frustrated they were talking around me like I was a child. At least my dad had a little faith in, well, whatever decision I was about to make.

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