Page 43 of An Irish Summer

I nodded instead of speaking and followed him out the door, breathing in the warm air of a late summer morning. I was close

enough to my flight home that I could check what the weather would be in Boston when I got back, but I had to force the thought

from my mind before I threw up.

The Cliffs were a shockingly short drive away, and we were in the parking lot before I knew it. It seemed odd that such an

iconic landscape had a parking lot, but I supposed that was a necessary evil.

Before we got out of the truck, Collin turned in his seat to face me.

This move pulled his T-shirt halfway around his body, making the eucalyptus leaves visible just under his collar.

I was instantly reminded of how his tattoos felt under my fingers, some of them raised just enough to feel in the dark. I wondered if I’d ever forget.

“This is a big moment,” he said, completely genuine and completely unaware of my inner turmoil. “You only get one first go

at the Cliffs, so you have to be in the right frame of mind to really embrace their effect.”

“Is this the speech you give before you let the guests off the van?” I said.

“Of course it is,” he replied with a smile. “Only difference is I don’t quite give a shit whether they listen. You, on the

other hand...” He trailed off. “Well, it’s important.”

“So, guide me,” I said. “It is your job, after all. How do I get in the right frame of mind?”

“If you’re asking a question like that, I reckon you’re already there. The Chelsea of two months ago didn’t want my advice,

remember?”

I thought back to that first night in the bar, and I wondered if seeing the Cliffs for the first time would be like seeing

Collin for the first time. Only then, I had no idea he would become so significant, and now, I had a feeling I would never

be the same after this afternoon.

“I couldn’t forget even if I wanted to,” I said. “After that night I thought you were going to be the biggest pain in my ass

all summer.”

“And now?”

“I know I was right,” I teased.

“I walked right into that one, there, didn’t I? Come on,” he said, opening the door. “You’re open to the magic of the Cliffs, which means you’re ready for the magic of the Cliffs.”

I followed him from the truck up a small hill, with my heart in my throat. This was our last adventure before I left, and

the thought was almost too much to bear. So instead of dwelling on it, I tried to memorize the sound of his breathing, the

rippling muscles in his legs as he climbed the hill, the space between his shoulders, and the smattering of ink over his forearms.

I already missed the security that came with having Collin Finnegan at the wheel, and how it had nothing to do with jobs,

money, or material things.

When we got to the top, however, even those feelings melted away. The stress and the hope surrounding the interview, the heartbreak

of leaving Flo and Collin, the sense of self that had been dissolving and rebuilding itself since I first got to the Wanderer.

The feelings I’d been wrestling with for months were whisked away by the wind, replaced only by a sense of wonder I hadn’t

felt since I was a child.

The jagged coastline sat seven hundred feet under the cliffs, which stood proudly against the wide-open sky. A narrow dirt

path lined itself along the edge, so onlookers could wander at what felt like the edge of the world. From where we stood,

they looked like specks of color splattered against a painting. The cliffs themselves towered over the ocean, rock formations

like stacks of earth built up or worn down since as far back as anyone could remember, and further back than that.

“Proper sight, aren’t they?”

“Do people usually answer that when you ask?” I said, hoping he could hear my voice above the wind. “And if so, what do they

say? And how do they manage to string words together at all?”

He laughed, swinging an arm around my shoulders and leading me in the direction of another small hill, which I figured would provide an even better view.

“Nothing insightful,” he said. “Most everyone is stunned into silence. Or they try to say something meaningful, but it comes out like something they read on a brochure before they got here.”

“Holy shit,” I said as we reached the top of the second hill, hardly listening to a word.

“Or that,” he said. “Take it all in, Chels. The Cliffs will always be here, but never with quite the same magic as this time.

Let the moment happen to you.”

His words washed over me with the sound of the waves, but for once I wasn’t tempted to look at him. I couldn’t take my eyes

off the landscape before me, even if I felt like crying.

The cerulean ocean stretched to the horizon on one end and crashed against the cliffs on the other, settling into gentle rolling

waves in between. The only interruption in the endless blue was that shade of green I realized I might never see again outside

of Galway, blanketing the expanse of cliffside just before it dropped fearlessly into the sea.

Standing on the steep edge of the cliffs served as both a literal and metaphorical precipice, and I was thankful I could blame

my teary eyes on the wind. I understood why Collin waited to take me here. Had we done this at the start of the summer, I

would have been standing here as the version of myself I’d been on arrival. Cynical, cranky, full to the brim with self-pity.

Instead, I stood here as, well, whoever this version of myself was. Open? Vulnerable, even? Mildly terrified? She was not

the same Chelsea from the start of the summer.

That version might have been unrecognizable to me, but one look at Collin told me this change was as familiar to him as the back of his hand. He’d seen the Cliffs change people before, or even seen Ireland change people before, and he knew I was no different.

“Ready for a walk?” he asked, offering me his hand. “There’s a great spot to sit a bit down the way. Dodge the tourists for

a minute, really give us some time to sit and enjoy if you’d like.”

“Lead the way,” I said, grabbing his hand and letting the weight of it ground me. We wandered along the edge of the cliffs

without speaking, instead alternating between watching the path and staring out over the edge. With every step the landscape

seemed to change, new cliffs forming and overlapping one another, the tides receding and crashing back against the shore,

the entire coastline warped and ambiguous.

“Here we are, then,” Collin said, gesturing to a patch of grass just beyond the path. He stepped over the rope, which was

supposed to serve as a barrier, and motioned for me to do the same. When I hesitated, he only laughed. “Relax, Chels. No one

is here to yell at ya. And the cliff isn’t going to, like, crumble into the sea there. Trust me.”

Maybe this was another reason he waited. Had he told me to trust him two months ago, I would have laughed in his face.

I followed him over the rope and settled beside him on the damp grass, letting my head drop to his shoulder as I returned

my gaze to the sea.

“Is this the part where we talk about you leaving?” he asked eventually, barely loud enough to be heard over the wind. We

both knew this conversation was coming, but that wasn’t going to make it any easier .

“We can’t put it off a little longer?” I knew this was the time to tell him about the job, but the words were already lodged

in my throat.

“We’re out of time, Chels.” We both knew he wasn’t just talking about having this conversation. Except only I knew we had even less time than we’d thought.

“This summer was more than I ever could have imagined,” I said eventually. “I mean, I thought I was going to hate it here.

All I wanted to do was get home to Boston. And now I’m sitting here at the Cliffs with you, trying not to cry at the thought

of doing exactly what I’d planned all along.” I tried to laugh, but it got lost in the wind.

“And you don’t think that means anything?” he asked.

“Of course it does,” I said, wary of his tone. “Are you saying I think it doesn’t?” I angled my body to face him. “Collin,

this summer, especially the past few weeks, has meant more to me than you know.”

“Not enough to change your plans, though, is it?”

“Coll,” I started, hating that we were going there. “I can’t stay here. You know that.”

“You keep saying that, but I’m still not quite sure why. You could easily get a visa. Lori would sponsor you.”

“It isn’t about the visa.”

“What’s it about, then? I need it to make sense to me. Is it just about familiarity? Family and friends? You have both right

here, do you not?”

“It’s more than that,” I said, trying to keep my footing. “It’s stability. It’s making a living.” I knew I was dancing around

the truth, but I wasn’t ready to stick the landing.

“And what’s wrong with the living we make here?” He angled his body this time, away from me and back to the edge of the cliff

and the Atlantic beyond. “If it’s not good enough for you, Chelsea, I wish you’d just say that. It’s what you’ve been thinking

since you got here, isn’t it? That you’re above hostel life.”

“I’m not above it, Collin, and you know that.”

“Of course I know it,” he said, “but do you?”

“I thought we’d gotten past this?” Frustration crept in where sadness used to be, and I didn’t like the direction this conversation

was headed. This wasn’t what this afternoon was supposed to be about, and I hated the dark turn it was taking. “It just isn’t

for me. That’s it. I’m not cut out for this kind of life.”

“But you’ve done it the whole summer,” he said, relaxing his tone. “That’s where I’m lost. You keep saying how much you aren’t

like us, how much you can’t just do something new every day, how you can’t manage hostel life. But you’ve been doing exactly

that every day since you got here. And you’ve been doing a brilliant job.” Hearing the kindness return to his voice made my

chest hurt. “You’ve changed so much since the start of this summer, Chelsea, and I know you can see that too.”

“I have, I know I have. And in some ways, it’s been for the best. But in other ways, I’ve just... I’ve gotten away from

myself. And I have to bridge the gap. The ways I’ve changed since I’ve been here are what have given me the confidence to

actively pursue the life I really want in the first place, but now I need to see it through.”

“And you’re sure going back is the life you really want, then?”

“I’m sure,” I whispered, letting my words get carried away on the wind, wishing I could follow them. He ran both hands roughly

through his hair, dropping his head briefly between his knees.

“Then I’m happy for you, Chels. Really, I am.”

“Then why don’t you sound happy for me?”

“Because it turned out I was the one who was a bit thick, after all. Letting myself get my hopes up that you might stay.”

“Collin—”

“I just want to make sure you’re really happy there, you know?”

“Do you think I won’t be?”

“I think you haven’t once sounded happy when you’ve talked about Boston,” he said, and I froze, keeping my eyes locked on

the horizon even though I could feel his on me. “You don’t talk about Boston with any joy, not like the joy I’ve seen you

feel here. At Blackrock, cheering on the hurlers, dancing at the ceilidh. I’ve seen you come alive, and you don’t so much

as smile when you talk about going home.

“So, I want to think you’ll be happy because I’ve fallen in love with you, Chelsea. I want nothing but the very best for you,

but I’m not convinced the very best thing for you is to go back.” He paused, taking a deep breath. “But that doesn’t mean

I won’t support you. If you really think this is best for you, then I will always support that.”

Any hope of blaming my tears on the wind was long gone. With every word he spoke my heart turned further in on itself.

“I’m sorry,” I said after what felt like an eternity.

“You’ve nothing to apologize for,” he said before I could continue. “You made it clear this was your plan from the start.

You were always going to leave. It’s my fault I let myself get carried away.”

“You aren’t the only one,” I said.

“I just wish we could have been carried away a little while longer.” A few more tears slid down my cheeks, and I tried to

wipe them away before he could see. “We have a few days left, right?”

Pain radiated from my chest. “Just one,” I said, still afraid to meet his gaze, even though I could feel the confusion in

the way he was looking at me. “I got the interview for that job, my dream job, really, that I thought I was underqualified

for. They want me in on Friday, so I’m leaving tomorrow.”

Eventually, he cleared his throat. “That’s grand, Chelsea.

I’m chuffed for ya. You’re going to smash it.

And I guess that means we better get you back to get packed, huh,” he said, brushing off his hands as he stood, like suddenly he was like the picture of nonchalance.

Like we hadn’t both been ripping our own hearts to pieces on a sweeping, dramatic cliffside.

Like we hadn’t backed ourselves into a corner.

I didn’t know what I’d expected him to say, but I couldn’t believe this was it.

What I did know was that I couldn’t falter now. Despite the pain, I had to follow through. My dream was still my dream, wasn’t it?

I followed Collin back down the hill and to the parking lot, equally speechless as when I arrived, only for entirely different

reasons. The sinking feeling in my stomach dropped lower and lower until it threatened to drag me straight into the ground.

I knew sometimes doing the right thing meant doing the hard thing, but in that moment, I wasn’t sure I was doing the right

thing at all.

“So, those are the Cliffs, then,” Collin said as we neared the truck, dragging me back into reality.

“They’re magical, Collin. They really are.”

“I’m not sure if they’ve changed you or brought you back to yourself, but I’m glad you got to see how special they are before

you left. They’re the proper final piece to your Irish education.”

I managed a hoarse, humorless laugh. Leave it to Collin to still have made this a lesson. And just like every other adventure

we’d been on, everything I learned only tied the string between me and Ireland tighter, rendering it nearly impossible now

to undo the knot.

“This isn’t goodbye, is it?” I asked when he finally turned to face me. “I’ll see you again before I leave, won’t I?”

“It’s possible,” he said, “but I’m quite busy with a tour tomorrow. Supposed to be decent weather, so trying to make the most of it. But I’m sure we’ll bump into each other.”

Perfect. A whole summer reduced to a chance goodbye in a corridor.

“Grand,” I said, getting into the truck. With nothing else left to say, I felt the chasm left behind by Collin and the rest

of the Wanderer open inside me before I was even packed.