Page 32 of Dylan
I know Gaelic. I didn’t just know his words; I believe I could have replied if I tried. I get the feeling I wasn’t just born in Ireland; I once lived there, but when and how did I get to Seattle?
Did I come to America with my dad? I have all these questions and I’m not sure going back to Roaring Irish will answer any of them. I don’t even know if that place is safe for me.
“But it’s all you’ve got for now,” I sigh.
I pace out of my room and get the card from my purse, where I put it after we got into an Uber once I got us away from the gym. Staring at the card, I try to figure out my next move. My sketchbook catches my attention on the table where my purse is sitting.
I pick it up and flip through it. Stopping on one of the many drawings of the boy from my dreams, I stare down at the page. Those eyes, they’re the same. I squint my eyes as if I can see the man from earlier on the page if I stare long enough.
“Hey you,” Daliah sings from behind me, causing me to jump and shut the book.
She wasn’t home when we arrived. I was sort of grateful for that. I needed time to myself to think.
“Hey. How was work?”
“Awesome. I don’t know why you won’t allow Vega to help you get a new gig.” She shakes her head. “How was the interview?”
“Didn’t happen. Ciarán got himself into some trouble and I had to bail to get to him.”
“Oh no. Well, I do have some good news. Vega wanted me to tell you to call her. She has something for you.”
I pull a face and narrow my eyes at her.
“Don’t look at me like that. It’s not what you think. Call her.”
“Fine, I will.”
“I’ll order us something for dinner. Chinese good with you?”
“Yeah, sure. Thanks.”
Suddenly, I’m starving. First, I go to look for Ciarán. We need to have a talk.
I’m still mad at him. Not only did he cost me that job, but I’m out four hundred dollars in Ubers. His little butt cut school, and he put himself in unnecessary danger.
Not to mention, he said way too much. There’s no telling what he might have said before I got there. I curse under my breath as I realize we both called each other by our real names.
I had been in such a panic. A million scenarios filled my head on the ride over to the gym. I questioned all my decisions in the last two and a half years.
“What were you thinking?” I ask as I walk up behind Ciarán as he sits at his desk in his room.
“That gym is so cool. The vibe is everything. They don’t treat their fighters like slaves or trash,” he says excitedly.
“Ciarán, that’s not what I asked you. What in the world were you thinking cutting school?”
He drops his head and looks into his lap. “Ever since I saw their gym online, I had this feeling like that’s where you need to be. You said you were thinking about fighting for Miss Vega. She’s awesome, but my gut is telling me Roaring Irish is where you should be.
“I just wanted to take a look at the place and see if it had a positive vibe. It does. Dylan and Taegan are so cool. Dylan says he’ll train me if I join the gym.
“Look, I’ve been checking out their membership fees. I added the cost to our spreadsheet. Please, Cee. This is all I want for my birthday. We can forget the new drone.
“Maybe I can get that for Christmas. Dylan didn’t yell at me once. He allowed me to fight without making me feel small,” he says with pleading eyes.
I scoff. “You think you’re getting something for your birthday after what you pulled today?”
The light leaves his eyes and his shoulders sag. I really should put him on punishment, but this is the first time I’ve seen him so excited to box. Finding out our father was a boxer has made me feel closer to him somehow.
If Ciarán can make that same connection, I don’t want to take that from him. I move closer to him and look at his computer screen. Sure enough, he has our shared spreadsheet open.
