Page 39 of An Irish Summer

you hear the door? Coll, is that you there?”

“Aye, it is us!” Collin called back down the hallway, shaking water from his hair and leaving his shoes on a mat near the

door. I did the same, stealing a glance at myself in the mirror on the wall and immediately regretting it. My hair was at

once matted to my head and frizzing in all directions, and my mascara was halfway to my cheeks. With a quick swipe under both

eyes and a claw clip in my hair, I was as presentable as I was going to get.

“He is here!” the woman, whom I assumed to be Aileen, shouted across the house. “I told you, Da. Niamh, they’re here!”

“We hear ye, Aileen, we hear ye,” Collin’s dad answered from a room off the entryway. “What’s the use for shoutin’ in a house

this small?”

“The use is that no one ever listens otherwise,” Aileen said, rounding the corner of the kitchen and coming into view.

Collin was right about her acting like a mother.

She was about half Collin’s height and wore messy, dark curls in a clip at the back of her head.

“Look who made it down from the big city,” she said, pulling him into a hug.

“I’d hardly call Galway ‘the big city,’” he said with a chuckle. “Aileen, this is Chelsea.”

“I bloody know who this is,” she said, wiping her hands on her apron and pulling me into a hug the same way she did Collin.

“Nice to meet ya, Chelsea.”

“Nice to meet you too. Thank you so much for having me for the roast. The house smells incredible,” I said.

“Aye, about time someone appreciates my cooking,” she said, giving Collin a once-over. “I like her already.”

“It’s only because she hasn’t eaten it yet,” he said.

“Fuck off, then.”

“You fuck off.”

“Don’t talk to yer sister like that,” said Collin’s dad, making his way into the foyer from what I glimpsed was a living room.

“Welcome home, son.” They clapped their hands together and leaned in for an awkward hug before Collin presented me the same

way he had to Aileen. “Da, Chelsea. Chelsea, Da.”

“Cormac,” he said, extending his hand. “Pleasure to have ye. Where the hell is Niamh?” he asked before we finished shaking

hands, turning his attention to the stairs. “Niamh, get down here. Yer brother and his girlfriend are here.”

“Oh, I’m not—”

“Da, come on—”

Collin and I started at the same time, which made Aileen laugh. “Oh, boy,” she said, turning back to the kitchen. “This is

going to be fun.”

I looked at Collin for reassurance, and he rolled his eyes behind his sister’s back. “She’s being dramatic,” he whispered. “It’s going to be fine.”

“I heard that!” she called over her shoulder.

As I followed Collin down the hall and into the kitchen, I took stock of the photos on the walls and any evidence of his childhood.

The frames were crooked and a layer of dust coated the glass, but I could make out a sandy-blond toddler with rolled pants

and his hands in the mud, unmistakably the same Collin as the man standing in front of me. There were also a handful of photos

of his sisters, clearly outside in their front yard, and even some of the four of them, but a noticeable lack of photos of

his mother.

Her absence was not lost on me, and I remembered Collin telling me the night he braided my hair that she wasn’t around much.

I wondered if I might find out why today.

The kitchen was cozy and cluttered the way a kitchen is when it’s been used for generations. Cookbooks sat atop the cabinets

collecting the same dust as the frames in the hallway; pots and pans hung from the ceiling with rusted, chipped bottoms; sweaters

draped over the backs of mismatched kitchen chairs; an ancient iron kettle boiled on the gas stove. It was like a painting.

“D’you cook, Chelsea?”

“Aye, we aren’t starting—”

“I wasn’t asking you,” Aileen said, waving Collin off.

“Not well,” I admitted. “But I’d be happy to help today wherever I can.”

“But she won’t, because she’s the guest,” Collin said to Aileen, throwing a glance over his shoulder at me. “Make yourself

comfortable, Chels. I’ll make you a tea.”

“Tea sounds grand, thanks.” Niamh appeared in the kitchen with soaking wet hair and an oversize hoodie, pinching Collin’s cheek as she passed him. “Glad to see you haven’t forgotten your family after all.”

“I call you three all the time, do I not?”

“But ya never come around anymore, do ya? Maybe we have Chelsea to thank for this visit.” She extended her hand to me and

I shook it, feeling the weight of her rings against my fingers. “Niamh,” she said.

“It’s a pleasure.”

“Tell us,” she said. “How’d you convince our brother to get his arse back home for a roast? Unless, of course—as his family—we

don’t want to know.” She wiggled her thick eyebrows, and Aileen elbowed her in the ribs.

“Niamh, be normal for once, would ya?” she said.

“No one in this house knows the meaning of normal,” Niamh said. “Don’t pretend.”

They mumbled something to each other in Irish before Collin cleared his throat and changed the subject. I tried not to think

about what they might have been saying.

“It really does smell great, Leen,” Collin said, crossing to the stove. “What’ve you got on?”

“You know, the usual, there. Roast potatoes, turnips, and the like. It’s beef this time. Hope you aren’t a vegetarian, Chelsea.”

“Nope.” Even if I was, I’d have lied just to be agreeable.

“Grand,” she said. “Coll, fix us some drinks, will you? I reckon we don’t need to bother with a tea. Might as well get right

to the good stuff.”

Aileen was my kind of girl, after all. Nobody objected, so I figured we needed something to take the edge off. As Collin poured gin and tonics, we gathered around a small fireplace on sunken sofas and floor cushions while Aileen finished cooking.

Cormac hadn’t said much since we arrived, but I could tell he was listening from the armchair in the corner. Niamh, on the

other hand, was as intense as Collin had described.

“So, Chelsea, what is it that brought you to Galway?” She looked up from swirling her cocktail and locked eyes with me, taking

a long, slow sip. I told her my story, trying to make it sound more like an adventure and less like a last resort.

“So you ran away,” she said when I finished.

“Niamh,” Collin said, his voice sterner than I’d heard it before.

“What? That’s how it sounds, isn’t it? Besides, there’s nothing wrong with running away. Collin did the same thing years ago,

didn’t you, Coll?”

“I hardly ran away,” Collin said, changing his position twice on the couch. “I took a job I was good at and made a life for

myself. Shame on me if I didn’t want to stay in this village forever.”

“Reckon you’re too good for this village, then, do ya?” she asked.

“That’s enough, Niamh,” Cormac said from his chair, looking up only to make eye contact with his daughter.

“Da’s right,” Collin said. “We’ve had this bloody conversation a million times, so we won’t be doing it again.” He looked

at me and I tried to unclench my jaw so he wouldn’t notice how tense I felt, but it wouldn’t budge. And by the looks of him,

neither would his. “Besides,” he added, “it isn’t running away if you plan on going back.”

“I know you aren’t talking about yourself, there,” Niamh said, and Collin nodded, tight-lipped. “Where’s home then, Chelsea?”

“Boston.”

“And what’s waiting for ya back there in Boston?”

That was the million-dollar question, wasn’t it? I hesitated, unable to put together a semblance of an answer quick enough

to appear engaged in this rapid-fire conversation.

“Her real life,” Collin said, sarcastic emphasis on the word real . “The one with the job and the friends and family and that.”

“And you didn’t find that here?” Niamh asked. “I mean, you’ve been here, what? Since the start of summer? That’s proper long

enough, isn’t it?”

I tried to laugh, but it came out forced and dry.

“It’s been plenty long, actually. I’ve met some incredible people this summer.” I nudged Collin with my knee, but he didn’t

move a muscle. My palms started to sweat, and I tried to regain my composure. “The plan was always just for this move to be

a summer thing. It was never supposed to be full-time. And I like sticking to a plan. I’m not good with big life changes.”

I knew I was probably saying too much, but I was too nervous to stop myself.

“Moving to Ireland must have been a big life change though, was it not?”

“God, Niamh, must you ask so many questions?” Collin asked. “It’s only a Sunday roast, like. It’s not an interrogation.”

“Forgive me, but it’s the first time you’ve brought a girl home in—well—ever, so I’m sorry, but I’d like to get to know her.”

He’d never brought anyone home before?

“Maybe there’s a reason for that,” he said. “And most people get to know people by asking about their hobbies or their interests

or other normal things. Not their big life plans.”

“I’m not most people.”

Based on the way they were scowling at each other, if I didn’t know Collin was years older, I’d have thought they were twins. I tried to focus on the similarities in their faces, their sharp jaws and faded freckles, so I wouldn’t have to focus on how uncomfortable I was feeling.

“I could use a hand in here if anyone’s got a minute,” Aileen called from the kitchen.

“Coming!” I shouted, jumping up from the couch a bit too quickly.

“You don’t have to,” Collin said, doing the same.

“I want to.”

An apology crossed his face, and I tried to communicate that I understood without either of us having to speak. He did warn

me they were a bit tough, but I didn’t expect unpacking my uncertain future with near strangers before we even sat down to

eat.

“Chelsea, grand, come here,” Aileen said as soon as I entered the kitchen. “Have you made custard before?”

“I’m not even sure I’ve even eaten custard before, if I’m honest.”

“No bother,” she said, laughing. “I’ll teach you.”

The kitchen already felt like much safer ground. While Aileen’s maternal nature probably drove Collin insane, it felt like

a warm blanket to me.