Page 85 of An Irish Summer

“So you’re finally seeing Ireland is better after all?”

“Just the countryside,” I said. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

“Are you sure about that?” His voice was measured, and I knew what was coming.

“I used to be,” I confessed.

“And now?”

“Now I do things like cancel interviews and have summer flings with men who ask too many questions.”

“And how do you feel about that version of you?” He was obviously determined to live up to his reputation.

“It’s unfamiliar,” I said eventually. “This version of myself. If you told me a few months ago I’d be here with you, I would have said you were insane.”

“And if I told you a few months ago that you’d be moving to Ireland? What would you have thought then?”

“Will I be meeting your sisters today?” I asked instead of answering his question. I didn’t want to think about what my former self would think about Ireland.

“Yes, but you don’t get to ask any other questions about them until you answer mine.”

“That doesn’t seem fair,” I said.

“Nothing’s fair,” he said. “Something else I’ve learned from my sisters.” I could see how much he loved them in his smile.

“I’d have thought you were insane then too,” I answered. “So maybe the insane one is me.”

“Surely there are worse things in the world than being a little insane. That’s what got you here, isn’t it?”

“Yes, but the effects of this whole experiment remain to be seen. This might have been a colossal mistake, and then my insanity would be working against me.”

“Do you really believe that?” he asked. I knew his tone was hushed so as not to disturb other travelers, but it only added to the gravitas.

I sighed. “A mistake, no.” I looked back out the window. “I’m beginning to think it’s going to be a bit harder to go home than I originally planned,” I said eventually. “I thought I would be running out of here and back to Boston, you know? That I’d be dying to get back to my real life. But the longer I’m here, and the more invested I get in the Wanderer,it’s becoming harder to even determine which life is my ‘real’ one anymore.”

“Why does it matter?” he asked. “What’s the big concern with ‘real’?”

“I can’t live in a fantasy,” I said.

“Is that what this is?” I opened my mouth, but he interrupted. “Don’t try to convince me otherwise, Chels. Not if it’s the truth. I don’t know why you can’t just admit you like it here.”

“Because it wasn’t the plan,” I said, for the first time hating how it sounded. “And I know you think plans are stupid, but they’re important to me. I had goals. Ihavegoals. And the longer I spend here, the more they feel like they’re slipping away.”

“I don’t think plans are stupid,” he clarified, “but I do think plans can change. And I think it wouldn’t kill ya to go easier on yourself. Be more flexible, you know? It’s okay to have to adjust your plans.”

I stared back out the window, watching heavy clouds darkening the sky. The weather moved twice as fast here as it did at home, but everything else moved twice as slow. This made the weather feel even more extreme, and I had a sinking feeling I’d miss it when I left. There was something cathartic about sudden heaving rain.

The more time I spent here, the less I understood why I was so desperate to get back to my stupid plans. They were nothing more than logical, calculated, tactical moves I’d attached myself to because I was convinced they would make me happy.

I wasn’t ready to give them up entirely, but I might be ready to alter them. To loosen the reins a little. Consider other options. Maybe not Wanderer-related options, but options that include flexibility and grace and forgiveness.

“Why couldn’t you stay?” he asked. “Would that really be so bad?”

I leaned my head against the back of the seat, closing my eyes for a few seconds to collect myself.

“It just wouldn’t be realistic,” I said, trying to tread lightly. “It would be a massive change. I can’t just leave my friends and my family to work at a hostel halfway across the world just because I’ve had a fun summer.”

“Why do you always say ‘work at a hostel’ like that?” His tone took a sharper edge.

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