Page 36 of An Irish Summer

We eyed each other, only a few inches apart. I tore myself away to shut down the projector and thank everyone for coming, reminding them to leave reviews if they were happy with the service at the Wanderer.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you liked it here,” Collin said as the last of the guests trickled out.

“Good thing you know better, then,” I smiled.

“How’d the applications go?”

“Well, thanks for asking. Hoping to hear back soon.” My voice faltered, and I couldn’t stop it.

“You sound stressed about it.”

“I am stressed about it.”

“Let me take your mind off it,” he said, grabbing me by the shoulders and ushering me toward the door. “The pints aren’t going to drink themselves.”

“Collin!” I protested.

“Your work is done, you’ve applied for boring jobs for your boring city life, now you can come out for the craic.”

“My city life is not boring.”

“Says you.”

“It’s sustainable,” I said, too busy with the verbal argument to also push back against his hands.

“And this isn’t?”

“Thank god we’re heading to the pub,” I said, laughing. “We’re gonna need a drink if we’re gonna have this conversation.”

“Aye,” he said. “Now you’re getting the hang of it.” I rolledmy eyes and followed him into the pub, letting him order us two pints of whatever lager was on tap and silently promising myself I’d only stay for one.

“So you think this isn’t sustainable, do ya?” He turned to me and took a long sip, watching me do the same.

“It’s just, it’s different from a salaried position,” I said, trying to tread lightly. “And it’s not exactly comfortable apartment living.”

“So, it’s just about a salary and flat for you, then? Having a nice doorman, giving half your paycheck to taxes?”

“It sounds worse when you put it that way,” I said. “It’s about security, I guess. Not having to worry about where I’m living or where the money is coming from. I know that sounds privileged, but it’s the life I want for myself.”

“White picket fence and a husband too, yeah? One of those finance blokes who wear a suit to the office every day?”

“I mean, it isn’t the most important part of the equation, but if I happened to find a nice husband, I’d be happy with that. And I wouldn’t care if he wore a suit to work.”

“But would you care if he wore work boots? Worked for an hourly wage?”

“Where is all this coming from?” I asked. “Look, Collin, this life just isn’t forme. I don’t mean to be knocking it for anyone else.”

“Just part of getting to know you,” he said, taking a few large gulps as if to avoid having to say anything else right away. I followed suit, needing the buzz to gather myself. “This life isn’t all that bad, you know. We quite like it here, to be fair.”

“And had I grown up with this, I might like it too,” I said. “But it’s so foreign to me. Too foreign. I’m not like you or Flo or Lars or any of the seasonal staff who came and never left. I can’t adapt like that. That’s why I like to have a plan.”

“What if a better plan comes along?” he asked. “Would you even know?”

“I don’t think there is a better plan for me than the one I’ve had my whole life,” I said. “That’s really the only plan for me.”

“Sure look, then.”

Because Collin was usually so chatty, it was painfully clear when he decided he had nothing else to say. And if he liked Ireland and hostel life enough for the whole country, why did it matter if I liked it too?

---