Page 6 of An Irish Summer

“Ah, and he’s humble,” I joked, though I wasn’t sure why.

“She’s clever, this one, is she?” he said to Lori, still looking at me.

“She is,” I answered, running a hand through my hair before planting both hands on my hips. I was too tired for however it was he was looking at me, and it was dangerously close to seeping into my tone.

“Really, Chelsea, if you want to see more of the country, he’s your guy,” Lori said. More of the country? I hadn’t even seen

anything beyond the route from the airport to the hostel, and my eyes were closed for half of it. And I didn’t need a guy,

tour guide or not, so she could squash both of those ideas, really.

“Duly noted,” I said, trying to be polite. “I think I’ll just focus on seeing the hostel, for now. You know, settling in and

all.”

“Right,” Lori said, a blush creeping onto her cheeks. “I suppose you want to unpack and lie down for a bit. If you’re feeling

up to it later, please join us for a drink at the bar next door. If Collin’s on tonight, he’ll pull you a mean pint of the

black stuff.”

“I’m always on,” he said, and I had a feeling he wasn’t talking about the bar.

“I would imagine anyone with that job would have to be. It takes a lot to pull a lever and fill a glass with Guinness, doesn’t

it?” Why couldn’t I stop myself? They were just on their way out... why couldn’t I have let them go?

Collin’s loud, low guffaw eclipsed Lori’s, bouncing off the walls of my tiny room. “Don’t let any of the locals hear ya saying

that,” he said. “They’ll boot you right on out of here.”

At this point, that might not have been the worst thing.

“This one here might give you a run for your money, Collin,” Lori said, pointing at me with her thumb, still chuckling softly.

“Only one way to find out,” he said. I chastised myself for noticing the way his tongue rested against the back of his teeth when he smiled, then looked beyond them both into the hallway, hoping they would go back to leaving.

“Right, then,” he said, taking the hint.

“We’ll be off. See you at the pub, then, Chelsea. ”

“Don’t count on it,” I said, smiling softly so he knew I wasn’t trying to be rude. And because something about him made not smiling a challenge.

He slapped a hand against his chest, and I tried not to study the length of his fingers. “She’s going to break my heart already

too, isn’t she?” he said to Lori without breaking eye contact with me.

“You seem to have that covered all on your own,” Lori said. “Now let the woman unpack. We’ll all catch up later.”

I hoped by later , Lori really meant tomorrow or next week . The only thing I planned to do later was take a long, hot shower, unpack, and get under the covers with a book as soon as

the sun set.

If I thought the communal laundry room was bad, nothing could have prepared me for the communal bathroom. Sure, I shared a

bathroom in my undergrad, for a year or two when I was hardly twenty years old. As an adult woman, it was more daunting than

I could have imagined.

The bathroom on my end of the hallway was shared by rooms one through six, though I had yet to meet any of the occupants.

There were three of everything: stalls, urinals, sinks, showers.

Thinking the shower would be “hot,” however, proved to be even more of a pipe dream. Lukewarm water trickled from a removable

showerhead, which I had to hold directly against my head for the water to penetrate my waves. I hoped someone else in this

block of rooms had red hair, otherwise, I would be the obvious culprit for constantly clogging the shower drain.

I managed to make it out of the bathroom unnoticed, but on the short walk back to my room, I was intercepted by a woman around my age, with cropped curly hair the color of dark chocolate and a flawless olive complexion. She looked like a painting.

“You must be Chelsea,” she said, echoing Lori’s words from my arrival. “I’m Florence.”

“Word travels fast around here, doesn’t it?” I said.

“The hostel is like a small town within a small town. I mean, technically Galway is a city, but it doesn’t feel like that

at all. Everyone knows everything pretty much as soon as it happens, especially at the Wanderer,” she said. “Oh god, sorry.

That was intense for your first day.” She must have clocked my facial expression. We both giggled, and I was relieved to meet

someone capable of recognizing that fear.

“It’s all been intense for a first day, to be honest,” I said, trying to keep my voice light. “I take it you’re not seasonal,

then?”

“I used to be,” she said. “But that was years ago. I planned to go home to Italy after my first winter, but never got around

to booking the flight.”

“Wow,” I said, unable to hide my surprise. She just walked away from her life?

“I know, I know, not for everyone. A testament to the Wanderer, though, you know?”

If she was trying to sell me on this place, I wasn’t buying it. Between the cold shower, the closet-size bedroom, and the

way everyone apparently knew everyone else’s business, it was more of a testament to Florence than anything else.

“I guess so,” I said, turning in the direction of my room, signaling an end to the conversation. I had the opposite effect.

“Are you heading to the bar tonight? I have to work, but it’s usually pretty popular on Saturdays, so it would be a great

way to meet everyone else.”

“Ah, I don’t know about that,” I said. I gestured to my appearance for effect, hoping she’d take notice of my sweats and realize

I was in no shape to be at a bar. Or still having a conversation in the hallway, for that matter.

“Are you sure? Collin’s bartending tonight, I think, and he—”

“Pulls a mean pint of the black stuff?” I repeated Lori’s words from before, trying not to laugh at how ridiculous they felt

in my mouth.

“You sound like an Irishwoman already,” Florence said. “I take it you’ve met Collin, then?”

“I have,” I said, trying to ignore the blush creeping up my neck.

“He’s something, that one,” Florence said, seemingly more to herself than to me. I hummed in agreement. “Well, if you change

your mind, you know where to go.”

“Thanks,” I said, eager to get back into my room. “Nice to meet you, Florence.”

“Call me Flo. Everyone else does.” Her smile was warm, and I returned it to the best of my ability. She disappeared down the

hall as I closed my door, and I relished the solitude. Finally. I put my shower caddy away, then sat down with my phone for

my obligatory updates. First my parents, then Ada.

I gave my parents the abridged, parent-friendly version: everyone is nice; my room is fine; I’m settling in; yes, I’ve eaten;

getting started tomorrow; yes, I’m five hours ahead here, so yes, it’s 9:00; yes, I’m going to sleep soon because yes, I am

exhausted, will call you again when I can, love you, bye.

As soon as Ada picked up the phone, however, I dove right in.

“Slow down,” she chided me after a few minutes of my rambling.

“Seriously, Ada, what the hell have I done?”

“You’ve moved to Ireland, like you planned, and now you adjust. Which is to be expected when you move to a new country,” she

said like she was talking to a kindergartner.

“Adjusting would have been easier if any of this actually matched my expectations,” I argued.

“You barely had any expectations,” she replied with a laugh.

“This isn’t funny, Ada,” I said.

“I know. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have laughed. But I do think you need to take a deep breath.”

“I’m trying, but it’s so claustrophobic here. Have I mentioned how small it is? I can reach my wardrobe from my bed, and you

know how short my arms are. I have no idea how anyone lives like this. Or why Helen chose to leave this out. Do you think

she did it on purpose?”

“I see you haven’t gotten any less dramatic since you left,” she said.

“Was I supposed to change my personality when I got here?”

“No, Chels.” She sighed. “But it might not kill you to lighten up. You want to survive there, don’t you?”

“Do I?” At this point, it felt like it might be more trouble than it was worth. Would it really have been so hard to sort

myself out in Boston?

“Are you kidding me?” she said. “What’s the alternative, huh? You come home, move back into your childhood bedroom, and answer

phones from foot patients for the rest of your twenties?” She had me there. “You aren’t seriously thinking of bailing, are

you?”

“No,” I groaned. “You’re right. I’ll stay at least until I work something out in Boston. Which I’m getting started on first thing tomorrow, by the way.”

“Knock yourself out,” she said. “As long as you aren’t spending it feeling sorry for yourself, I don’t care what you do with

your free time. Though I do think you should spend some of it with, what’s his name, Charlie?”

“Collin,” I said, then immediately regretted telling her about him in the first place. “But it doesn’t matter what his name

is because we are never going to need it.”

“Famous last words,” she said, and I could hear her smile down the line.

“Goodbye, Ada.”

“Fine, fine. Call me later this week once you get a few shifts out of the way. And try to smile once or twice, if only so

you don’t forget how.”

“Aye, aye, Captain.”

“Smart-ass.”

“Love you,” I said.

“Love you, back. Talk soon.”

By the time we hung up it was dark outside, the rain was coming down in sheets, and going to the bar was even less of an option

than it was when I’d gotten out of the shower. Everyone else seemed to think being waited on by Collin would ease the nerves

that came with my arrival, but I knew it would do exactly the opposite. I slipped under the covers, pulled them over my head,

and set an alarm for first thing in the morning. I needed every second of sleep to prepare for whatever my first day of work

had in store.