Page 18 of An Irish Summer

“I can’t believe we haven’t had more overlapping days off since you started here,” Flo said, sipping a coffee across from

me in a café in town. “We should have done this ages ago.” She took another sip, then spoke again before I had a chance. “Though

now that I think about it, I suppose you’re always with Collin when you have days off.”

“That’s not true,” I said. “I do other things with my days off.”

“Like what? Applying for jobs and doing laundry and making obligatory phone calls home?” Flo laughed, and I couldn’t help

but join in despite myself. She was right. I hadn’t done a ton with my time off other than keep things in order, and I’d been

here too long for “adjusting” to still be an excuse. I’d adjusted just fine. So fine, in fact, that something deep inside

me worried exploring the city would make me too well-adjusted. Comfortable, even. At home.

“Like getting coffee with you,” I said trying to keep it light. “Duh.”

“Cheers to that.” She lifted her mug, and I clinked mine against hers. “Let’s make a day of it,” she said. “We’re already

in town, and the sun might actually come out. We could do anything.”

“Within reason,” I cautioned. Aside from the activities I had researched for the bachelorette party I still wasn’t sold on the liveliness of the town.

“There’s tons to do here,” she countered. “We just have to get creative.” I stared out the window, trying to get a glimpse

of what we might get ourselves into. “Finish that coffee, tesoro . We’re starting with shopping.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I said, swallowing the rest of my latte and following her lead. I knew Flo well enough by then to know I didn’t

have a choice otherwise.

The day was coming alive, and the buskers were already setting up shop in their respective positions, carefully dotted around

the streets so you’d never be more than a few steps from live music, but nothing overlapped.

A gentle breeze ruffled the bunting strung between buildings overhead, and I felt like I was seeing Galway for the first time.

The colors of the buildings and the flags were faded from the harsh Irish weather, giving the whole city a vintage feel.

“You’re going to love this little market,” Flo said, gesturing down a narrow side street.

I followed her around the corner, turning sharply into a flurry of market stalls. Vendors stretched the length of the street,

selling wares from jewelry to candles to pottery to street food. It wasn’t the biggest market I’d ever seen, but it might

have been the liveliest. The music from the streets floated through the throngs of people, mingling with sounds of bargaining

locals and sizzling fries and laughing children.

“Cute, isn’t it?” Flo asked, waving to a vendor. “Every time I come down this way I end up spending money I don’t have, but

I can’t help myself.”

I ran my fingers along a canvas tote bag, tracing an Irish phrase printed on the front. “I don’t blame you,” I said. “Everything is so...”

“Unique?” She finished for me. “That’s the best part. Nothing else like it in the world.”

Admittedly, I hadn’t seen much of the world, but there was nothing like this in Boston. And if there was, the vendors would

be aggressively pushing sales and children would be screaming and the music would be too loud.

We took our time combing over each stall, listening to the sellers marketing their products, touching crystals and handwoven

sweaters and wooden spoons.

“Claddagh rings,” Flo said, watching me inspect a tray of glistening silver bands. “They’re from right here in Galway, you

know.”

“What do they mean?” I asked. It was becoming clear that everything in Ireland was symbolic, so I figured this was no different.

“Loyalty, friendship, amore ,” she said, slipping one onto my finger. I studied the shape, the crown above the heart clasped between two hands. It was

beautiful.

“We’ll take this one,” Flo said, already handing her card to the vendor.

“Oh, no,” I started. “Flo, you don’t—”

“It’s bad luck to buy one for yourself,” she explained, “so you have to accept the gift.” She smiled, squeezing my hand and

thanking the seller. She was impossible to argue with, and impossibly generous, so I kept my mouth shut.

“Now,” she said. “Let me show you how to wear it.” She explained that the different ways to wear it signified relationship status, eventually turning it on my right hand so the heart was facing away from me.

“This means you’re single,” she said. “And then when you and Collin eventually stop pretending you aren’t into each other, you can turn it around to face you to show other people you’re taken. ”

“Flo!”

“Don’t act so surprised, Chelsea. We can all see you’re inseparable.”

“Then you all may as well be blind,” I said.

“I don’t know,” she mused. “Lars said there was some tension in the pub the other night. No one has tension in the pub unless

something is going on.”

“It’s Ireland. Everyone has tension in the pub,” I said. “Besides, Lars is just trying to stir the pot. I can assure you,

nothing’s going on.”

“Just don’t forget to turn the ring around when you stop lying to yourself,” she said. “Speaking of Lars, I think he has a

group out in Salthill today. Should we pop over there? I could go for the sea in this weather.”

Flo was smart to change the subject. I had no idea what Salthill was, but the day was getting hotter and my mind cloudier,

so the sea sounded like a great idea.

“Let’s do it,” I said, desperate to get out from under her gaze. With Lars and the guests around there was sure to be less

ribbing about Collin, which was appealing enough without the promise of the sea.

After a short text exchange, Flo confirmed they were indeed at Salthill, so we headed out of town and down to the seaside.

We walked along the bay, turning our faces to the wind and letting the mist settle in our hair.

“This is the Promenade,” Flo said as we walked down a flat stretch that bordered the water, lined with old fashioned streetlights and wooden benches.

The gentle drop off was rocky before deep blue water stretched to the horizon, and I found it impossible to look away.

“And those are the hills of the Burren.” She nodded across the water at a landscape that looked photoshopped.

Unusual rock formations carving paths through kelly-green hills, stretching lazily toward the sky.

“Is everyone around here a tour guide?”

“It just becomes a part of you,” Flo said. “Whether you want it to or not.”

I kept quiet, afraid to prompt more teasing about my unwillingness to embrace Ireland.

“And that’s Blackrock,” she said and pointed to what looked like a diving board standing at least twenty feet above the water.

I snapped my head in her direction, and her smile confirmed my fear: that was exactly where we were headed.

“Tell me we aren’t,” I tried.

“Oh, but that would be a lie.” Her smile doubled in size, and she grabbed my hand to keep me from running all the way back

to the Wanderer. “Come on. It’ll be fun. I think I see Lars up there now.”

Sure enough, Lars was on top of the higher platform, gesturing wildly at what must have been his group from the hostel. We

watched as he approached the end of the platform, looked back to confirm he had their attention, then jumped into the sea.

I tried to count the seconds it took before he hit the water but closed my eyes after one .

“Flo, there is absolutely no way I’m going up there.”

“It’s a rite of passage,” she said. “Everyone who comes to Galway in the summer jumps from Blackrock.” She was still dragging

me in the direction of the diving board, no matter how hard I tried to pull away.

“Everyone except me,” I said.

“It’s only, like, ten meters,” she said as if ten meters was no bigger than ten inches.

“That’s thirty feet, Florence.”

“Afraid of heights or the sea?”

“Heights.”

“Then you’ll just have to jump quickly.”

“I don’t have a swimsuit,” I said, searching for any viable excuse.

“Do you have a bra and underwear?” she asked. I rolled my eyes, knowing we both knew the answer was yes. “Then you have a

swimsuit,” she said. “Let’s go.”

As we approached the platform, I heard a mixture of accents, the familiar soundtrack at the Wanderer.

“You girls made it,” Lars called to us as he clambered out of the sea, shaking water from his hair. Unsurprisingly, his body

matched his Ken-doll face, and I wondered if that was part of how he convinced so many guests to jump from a thirty-foot-high

diving platform into the sea.

“We did,” Flo said, flinging her arms wide. “And this one’s going to do the jump.”

“I don’t know which one she’s talking about,” I said, “because it definitely isn’t me.”

“Chelsea Gold, get your arse up here.”

I recognized Collin’s voice before I looked up at the platform, and I wasn’t sure what was more unsettling: the fact that

he was here, or the fact that he was talking about my arse .

“Of course you’re here,” I called.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” he yelled back.

“It is,” I said. “Too much pressure.”

“So give in.”

His words were laced with undertones I was in no position to decode. “Not a chance,” I said, wondering if he could hear the wobble in my voice from all the way up there.

“She still hasn’t learned she doesn’t have a choice, has she?” he asked the other two.

“I tried to tell her it was a rite of passage.” Flo shrugged. “But you know how she is about embracing Galway’s customs.”

“ She is standing right here,” I said.

“When really she should be taking her clothes off and getting up here,” Collin said. As if I wasn’t nervous enough, now I

also had to think about the way it sounded when Collin Finegan told me to take my clothes off.

I looked from expectant face to expectant face, slowly coming to grips with the fact that there was no getting out of this.

There were a few whoops and cheers from the guests as they plunged into the water, while the others watched our conversation

and waited for me to make a move.