Page 114 of Since We're Here
Reese growls into the phone. “What a jerk. I’m so sorry, Mads.”
“You were right about him. About it being just a holiday fling.”
“Oh, honey, I didn’t want to be right. I shouldn’t have pushed so hard.”
“I went to cancel the flight but couldn’t get my money back, so I paid extra and changed it to Dublin. I needed to plan the road trip anyway and was looking for inspiration. I thought I’d go to Dingle. Meet Patrick. He was supposed to be helping me plan, and I needed to get away.”
“Wait—you were in Ireland? With Patrick? As in Oliver’s Patrick?”
I murmur an agreement and watch a twenty-something man and woman walk by. They’re holding hands and moving as one, occasionally glancing at each other fondly. It makes me yearn. For Patrick, I guess. That connection we had.
“Oh my god. What about school?”
“I thought you were going to let me get through this?”
“Fine, fine, go ahead.”
“I left the program.”
Reese gasps. “No, Maddie, really?”
“It wasn’t for me. I was much happier working in restaurants. Well, mostly.”
For a few seconds, ten jobs and ten men flash through my mind. Eleven. Now it’s eleven. I shake my head to get the thoughts out.
Reese is quiet, so I continue.
“I met up with Patrick . . .”
Here we go. This part might be harder than the rest to share. How I seem to be repeating my mistakes over and over again.
Even though it was different with Patrick.
“...and ended up working at his pub for a while. I loved it. And Patrick was amazing.” My voice has a dreamy, wispy sound to it.
Reese doesn’t say anything for at least thirty seconds. Absorbing, I guess.
“Madison Elizabeth Hart,” she finally says.
“What?” I sit up straight on the bench. She’s got her mini-mom voice on.
“You hooked up with Patrick, didn’t you? And then it went wrong, like it always does at your jobs.”
I flinch, but that’s a solid summary.
“Yeah.” I wish I could argue with her. Convince her it was different this time. I know it was. I think it was. But what evidence do I have of that?
From the outside, it looks exactly the same.
Like I’ve learned nothing.
Reese sighs. The bone deep, exhausted sigh of a mother, or at least a sister who acts like a mother. “I wish you’d have been honest with me.”
“I’m sorry. I really am. I shouldn’t have lied. But I was so afraid of what you’d think.”
She’s quiet.
“What about school, Maddie?” Her voice is softer, kinder. “Was that another impulsive decision?”
