Page 9 of An Irish Summer

“This one here might give you a run for your money, Collin,” Lori said, pointing at me with her thumb, still chuckling softly.

“Only one way to find out,” he said. I chastised myself for noticing the way his tongue rested against the back of his teeth when he smiled, then looked beyond them both into the hallway, hoping they would go back to leaving. “Right, then,” hesaid, taking the hint. “We’ll be off. See you at the pub, then, Chelsea.”

“Don’t count on it,” I said, smiling softly so he knew I wasn’t trying to be rude. And because something about him madenotsmiling a challenge.

He slapped a hand against his chest, and I tried not to study the length of his fingers. “She’s going to break my heart already too, isn’t she?” he said to Lori without breaking eye contact with me.

“You seem to have that covered all on your own,” Lori said. “Now let the woman unpack. We’ll all catch up later.”

I hoped bylater, Lori really meanttomorrowornext week. The only thing I planned to do later was take a long, hot shower, unpack, and get under the covers with a book as soon as the sun set.

If I thought the communal laundry room was bad, nothing could have prepared me for the communal bathroom. Sure, I shared a bathroom in my undergrad, for a year or two when I was hardly twenty years old. As an adult woman, it was more daunting than I could have imagined.

The bathroom on my end of the hallway was shared by rooms one through six, though I had yet to meet any of the occupants. There were three of everything: stalls, urinals, sinks, showers.

Thinking the shower would be “hot,” however, proved to be even more of a pipe dream. Lukewarm water trickled from a removable showerhead, which I had to hold directly against my head for the water to penetrate my waves. I hoped someone else in this block of rooms had red hair, otherwise, I would be the obvious culprit for constantly clogging the shower drain.

I managed to make it out of the bathroom unnoticed, but on the short walk back to my room, I was intercepted by a woman around my age, with cropped curly hair the color of dark chocolate and a flawless olive complexion. She looked like a painting.

“You must be Chelsea,” she said, echoing Lori’s words from my arrival. “I’m Florence.”

“Word travels fast around here, doesn’t it?” I said.

“The hostel is like a small town within a small town. I mean, technically Galway is a city, but it doesn’t feel like that at all. Everyone knows everything pretty much as soon as it happens, especially at the Wanderer,” she said. “Oh god, sorry. That was intense for your first day.” She must have clocked my facial expression. We both giggled, and I was relieved to meet someone capable of recognizing that fear.

“It’s all been intense for a first day, to be honest,” I said, trying to keep my voice light. “I take it you’re not seasonal, then?”

“I used to be,” she said. “But that was years ago. I planned to go home to Italy after my first winter, but never got around to booking the flight.”

“Wow,” I said, unable to hide my surprise. She just walked away from her life?

“I know, I know, not for everyone. A testament to the Wanderer, though, you know?”

If she was trying to sell me on this place, I wasn’t buying it. Between the cold shower, the closet-size bedroom, and the way everyone apparently knew everyone else’s business, it was more of a testament to Florence than anything else.

“I guess so,” I said, turning in the direction of my room, signaling an end to the conversation. I had the opposite effect.

“Are you heading to the bar tonight? I have to work, but it’s usually pretty popular on Saturdays, so it would be a great way to meet everyone else.”

“Ah, I don’t know about that,” I said. I gestured to my appearance for effect, hoping she’d take notice of my sweats and realize I was in no shape to be at a bar. Or still having a conversation in the hallway, for that matter.

“Are you sure? Collin’s bartending tonight, I think, and he—”

“Pulls a mean pint of the black stuff?” I repeated Lori’s words from before, trying not to laugh at how ridiculous they felt in my mouth.

“You sound like an Irishwoman already,” Florence said. “I take it you’ve met Collin, then?”

“I have,” I said, trying to ignore the blush creeping up my neck.

“He’s something, that one,” Florence said, seemingly more to herself than to me. I hummed in agreement. “Well, if you change your mind, you know where to go.”

“Thanks,” I said, eager to get back into my room. “Nice to meet you, Florence.”

“Call me Flo. Everyone else does.” Her smile was warm, and I returned it to the best of my ability. She disappeared down the hall as I closed my door, and I relished the solitude. Finally. I put my shower caddy away, then sat down with my phone for my obligatory updates. First my parents, then Ada.

I gave my parents the abridged, parent-friendly version: everyone is nice; my room is fine; I’m settling in; yes, I’ve eaten; getting started tomorrow; yes, I’m five hours ahead here, so yes, it’s 9:00; yes, I’m going to sleep soon because yes, I am exhausted, will call you again when I can, love you, bye.

As soon as Ada picked up the phone, however, I dove right in.

---