Page 121 of Lucky Strike

One for Lucky, one for me, and a tiny one for Liam.

The trainto Belfast takes about five and half hours. Aoife grabs us from the station and takes us back to her and Sean’s place in Newtownbreda, a suburb south of the city center. It’s just what the doctor ordered. Liam has a ball with Aoife and Sean’s boys, who are three and seven, while we spend the day drinking and catching up—great craic, according to Sean.

The next day, Lucky rents a car and shows Liam and me around his old haunts—Queen’s University, the boxing club he used to train at, and the pubs he frequented. He shows off the murals Belfast is known for, pointing out several old flashpoints. I knew a little about the Troubles that plagued the area from the sixties through the nineties, but seeing the actual streets and buildings brings the reality into sharp relief.

“You love this place,” I remark as we walk past the peace wall on Falls Road. Liam walks just ahead of us, peering intently at the colorful walls, asking who’s who every few seconds.

“I do.” He nods, a faint line between his eyes as he watches his son. “Is it that obvious?”

“I can see it in your eyes.”

“This is where my family comes from, you know? And some of the best years of my life were spent here,” he acknowledges. “It’s a part of me.”

“It is. Have you ever considered moving back?”

“Nah.” He shakes his head. “I wouldn’t mind visiting more, but … I couldn’t live here.”

“Why not?” I ask, curious.

“Because Boston’s home.” Sliding his hands into the pockets of hisjacket, he shrugs. “My family’s there; our life is there. I’ve never seen myself anywhere else.”

“Is that the only reason?”

He looks at me sideways, sliding me a smirk. “You know me better than anyone, huh.”

“I’d hope so. We’re married.”

“When Rachel got pregnant, it was hard. Really hard—for both of us,” he says after a moment. “I’d never felt so conflicted in my life, not even with you. I can’t imagine life without Liam now, but at the time it felt like no decision was a good one. And then the way Rachel died a couple years later …” Lucky frowns, shaking his head. “I’ve never been fully convinced it was an accident. Maybe it was. I don’t know.”

We’ve talked about Rachel, but it’s always been kind of matter of fact. It’s a relief to know he feels this deeply about all of it because itwascomplicated. It did change his life, its trajectory. Being tied to someone you were ready to let go of. Loving someone and then losing them.

“So, this city is full of ghosts,” I say.

“You could say that.” He glances at Liam, who’s squatting on the sidewalk as he examines another mural. “Come on, buddy. Let’s go.”

Holding Liam’s hand, Lucky tosses his arm around my shoulders as we cross the street. “It’s my past, and I’m grateful for it. But it’s not my life, not anymore.”

I pause before climbing into our rental, taking a photo of the peace wall. This one has a picture of Nelson Mandela alongside a call for solidarity with Palestine. Farther down are pictures of Frederick Douglass, Bob Marley, and Martin Luther King, Jr.

“I want to hear about your grandpa,” I say. “Conlan. The one you’re named for.”

Lucky smiles, buckling Liam into his carseat. “I’ll tell you everything you want to know, but first: lunch. You hungry?”

“Starved. Take me to your favorite chip shop.”

36.Lucky

Epilogue

“You brushed your teeth, right?” Bria asks, buckling Liam into his booster seat.

“Yep.” Liam sticks his tongue out and wiggles it around. “And my tongue.”

“Good job,” she says. “You’re minty fresh.”

“Ready to go?” I glance back at my son as we reverse out of the garage. It’s his first day of school, and we’ve all been holding our breath to see if he actually goes. “You got your lunchbox?”

“Yep! I have a peanut butter and jelly sandwich!”

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