Page 3 of An Irish Summer

“Go to Ireland, Chels,” Ada said down the line as if it was the most obvious decision in the world. I was lying on my couch,

which wouldn’t be my couch for much longer, counting the ceiling tiles while I waited for her to continue. “I mean, it’s kind

of a no-brainer, isn’t it?” She sounded out of breath, and I wondered if she was on a run.

“Are you working out?”

“Ew, no. I’m walking up that big hill to the Whole Foods,” she said. “Stop deflecting. You called for advice, and I’m giving

it to you. Take the Ireland gig.”

“Should I be concerned by how eager you are to get rid of me?” I knew I was still stalling, but I was afraid of what might

happen if I stopped.

“Very funny,” she said, and I could hear her eye roll over the phone. “Honestly, Chels, the fact that you asked my opinion

at all, when you definitely knew what I was going to say, tells me you already know you want to go.” I made a sound that was

somewhere between a laugh and a scoff. “Seriously. What’s stopping you?”

“I don’t know, maybe that I don’t know anything about the country? Or maybe that my entire life is here, in Boston, where I want it to be?”

“Okay, first of all, there’s Google,” she said, and I laughed, despite myself. “And this gig isn’t forever. You’ll be able

to be back to your Boston life in no time. Which, might I remind you, at this moment doesn’t consist of an apartment or a

job, so.”

“Any more salt you’d like to rub in the wound?”

“I’m just saying. You have to rebuild some of your life here anyway. So might as well do it from over there.”

“How am I supposed to rebuild my life here from three thousand miles away?”

“Did you call me for advice, or did you call me to complain? This hill is hard enough without having to argue with you, so

I’m happy to hang up if you don’t want to talk about this.”

“You’re right, you’re right, I’m sorry,” I said, a little embarrassed by my tone. “I called for advice.”

“Good,” she said, and I was relieved when I heard the smile return to her voice. “Then my advice is this: take the gig. We

have technology now, you know. You can look online for a job and an apartment here while you’re over there, so that excuse

doesn’t exactly hold up. It’s not every day you have the opportunity to move to Ireland.”

“And the opportunity to move to Ireland is something I should want?” I asked. Ada scoffed so loud I had to pull the phone

away from my ear. “Oh, don’t scoff like you’ve been there and you know all about it,” I said, calling her bluff before she

even had a chance to speak. “You’re a city girl just as much as I am.”

“Okay, so maybe I haven’t been there, but it seems beautiful, doesn’t it? The grass always looks so green.”

“That’s because all the photos you’ve seen are probably on Instagram,” I said, and we both laughed. “Besides, what am I supposed to do with green grass?”

“Some time outside wouldn’t kill you, you know.”

We both knew I wasn’t exactly the tree-hugging type, but she was probably right. Any time I’d spent outside in the past few

years was just a side effect of living in a walkable city, despite the abundance of parks in the area. I wouldn’t admit it

to her, but fresh air might do me some good.

“And isn’t Galway a city?” she added when I didn’t say anything. “Not like Boston, maybe, but it isn’t like you’re going to

be in the middle of nowhere.”

All I did was groan in response. I supposed she had a point there too.

“I guess it would be an easy way to avoid a gap in my résumé,” I ventured.

“That’s the spirit! What else?”

If you gave Ada an inch, she would take a mile. And frustrated as I was, I couldn’t deny her energy was working.

“Uh,” I fumbled, “it would also diversify my experience and make me seem more flexible?”

“Attagirl!”

I leaned into the building momentum. “And it’s definitely a plan , even if it isn’t my long-term plan. It’s a job and housing. That’s what I need right now, so I can’t exactly complain. And

I’ll probably learn some transferable skills that will make me more marketable to a wider variety of jobs, which will benefit

my career in the long run.”

“Maybe a little too practical for my taste, but yes!” She chuckled, and I was surprised to find I did too.

Ada was a romantic, the spontaneous, freewheeling kind, but she’d never been anything but supportive of my goals, career and otherwise.

She may not have been a planner herself, but she recognized how important it was to me.

“I know it isn’t ideal, Chels,” she said, softening her voice a little.

“I know how much you love a plan, and I know you hoped to be promoted at O’Shea’s.

But I don’t think moving to Ireland is the worst option.

Maybe not your first choice, but I really think this’ll be good for you.

And somewhere deep down, I think you do too. ”

This was the problem with having the same best friend your entire life. She always knew exactly what I needed to hear, but

I couldn’t hide anything from her. She knew what I was thinking even before I did, and unlike me in this moment, she was brave

enough to say it out loud.

“Thank you,” I said, trying to unravel the knot of emotion constricting my throat. “You’re right.”

“Always am. So, it’s settled, then?” she asked, returning to her usual tone. “Because I just walked into Whole Foods and need

to focus. I don’t want to hear Ben complain again about how bad I am at grocery shopping.”

Was it settled? Could it really have been that easy?

“Chels?” she prompted when I didn’t respond right away.

“It’s, uh, yeah,” I said, but my voice was breathy and a little manic. “I guess it is? And Ben’s right. You are terrible at

grocery shopping.”

“Only someone as type A as you two would think grocery shopping was something you could be bad at. But I’ll attribute your

temporary insanity to the aftermath of having just made a huge decision. Anyway, call me later so we can discuss what you’re

packing!” Before I could even respond, she hung up.

And that was that.

I fished the brochure from my tote, squinting at it in the semidarkness of my apartment. Only the string lights around the window were on, accompanied by a few candles on the coffee table, but it was enough.

The glossy photo on the cover depicted a smiling group of backpack-clad travelers in the entryway of the hostel, arms slung

around one another like old friends. I flipped it open, catching key phrases in the same bold green font from the cover: seasonal work, make lifelong friends, explore all Ireland has to offer .

I rubbed my eyes with the heels of my hands, trying to stop the room from spinning. I wasn’t really going to do this, was

I? Even as I asked the question, I knew the answer. I needed a plan, and here it was. Temporary, maybe, but as the benefits

began to outweigh the drawbacks, the decision was clear as day.

I was moving to Ireland.