Page 82 of Since We're Here
A holiday fling.
I shudder at the words. But I need to face reality. There’s not been one singular conversation about feelings. Except for that one time he told me he liked me. But he also likes his pet sheep, so that’s not saying much.
It doesn’t matter. I’m just another tourist he’s sleeping with, and he’s a hot Irishman scratching an itch for me. We know where we stand with each other. That’s why I even let myself get involved with him—it was clear what was happening and where I stood.
And that apology yesterday was probably to smooth things over ahead of the road trip so it won’t be painfully awkward. It wasn’t the worstapology I’ve ever gotten. TheForgive me?line made my heart warm uncomfortably.
I haven’t responded.
Patrick and I are not dating. We have a weird relationship right now, a connection because his close friend and my sister are getting married. So he’s not a stranger, and I’m not some random tourist.
But we’re only a small step above that.
Me
No problem. I’ll start getting the rooms booked ASAP. Going on a bike ride now
Stella
On the beach? Jealous!!!
Me
Yeah. On the beach
Reese
Pictures, please
Oh, for fuck’s sake.
I toss back the rest of my coffee and google bike rides on the beach. I find a picture I like on a different Caribbean island—but what does it matter which island the picture’s from?—so I screenshot a bike on its side in the sand and crop it, careful to remove all of the watermark from the blog I’m blatantly stealing—borrowing—from. I gaze at the turquoise waters and clear blue sky, bright sun reflecting off the white sand.
I’d way rather be there.
Before I chicken out of today’s bike ride, I wave to Maria and head back out. This time, I ride carefully on the road, which is almost easier, as I’m not constantly dodging pedestrians. Main Street turns into Goat Street, and I’m feeling pretty good about my bike riding skills.
The wind lashes my face, but it’s stopped raining, so I let myself cycle faster and faster. It’s blowing away all my problems: my lies to my sisters, the way I’ve gotten so wrapped up in my relationship with Patrick, my lack of plans for the future even though I’m supposed to be figuring everything out while I’m here.
There’s the issue of my return flight, which is scheduled for less than two weeks from now. Am I getting on that plane back to New Jersey? Back to live with Reese and Oliver? Jobless? Will I have to face my oldest sister in person and tell her how I messed up everything, again?
Fuck. That sounds awful.
Dingle Bay opens up to my left, and I cross the short bridge.
I have to be in Ireland for the road trip and Scotland for the wedding. It’s time I take my life seriously, like I promised I would when I got on the plane to Dublin.
A shiver runs through my body. Even with my new warm clothes, it’s freezing out here, and the rain starts falling again. I’m doubting my plan to keep biking to that first spot Patrick took me to the other week. The spot where he let me nestle into his chest, protecting me from the cold and wind. It’s too far.
Abaaajars me out of my daydream, and when I refocus on the path in front of me, there’s a herd of sheep blocking the road almost completely. I’m close enough to make direct eye contact with one of them. I swear its eyes widen as I approach, going much too fast.
They’re just fucking standing there, staring at me. I might be screaming, but it’s hard to tell. It’s much too late to stop.
I swerve away from the sheep, but my bike loses traction on the wet pavement, and I slide toward the edge of the road.
And a giant boulder.
At least I have a helmet on, but it shifts on my head, and as I approach the rock, the strap under my chin is too loose to keep it in place.
