Page 45 of Since We're Here
Then I went to a poetry reading with him and a few other baristas. He took the microphone and read a piece he’d recently written. About me. And that night on the beach. In excruciating detail.
It was beyond humiliating.
I never showed my face at that Starbucks—or to him—again.
Breakup Reason: He was using me as a muse.
My Distress Level: 4
Lesson Learned: Stay away from artistic types.
The wet start to the day progresses into a cold, rainy Saturday afternoon. By the time six o’clock rolls around, the pub is more crowded than I’ve seen it since I started. It feels good to pour pints and talk to customers.
Declan is working next to me, and I’m waiting for Ronan, the night manager, to show up and relieve me. I honestly think Patrick could streamline his pub workforce more. He could promote Declan and hire a few more part-time bartenders. I also had an idea I want to share with him later about how to bring in more tourists this summer.
I’ve been here just a week, but it feels like much longer. I’m glad I have three more weeks to avoid my life back in New Jersey. I’m sure I’ll be sick of the weather and this town and the walls of the pub by then. But somehow, Dingle already feels like home. A temporary home.
The door pushes open and a crowd of people arrives, including Ronan, who raises a hand to me then slips down the hallway to the pub office. Behind him, Saoirse and Ian walk in together. Patrick’s sister smiles broadly as she approaches the bar, tapping her finger on her wrist and making a drinking gesture.
“Three pints of Golden Amber.” Saoirse winks at me. “One’s for you. It’s time.”
I laugh and retrieve three pint glasses, tucking one under the tap and pulling the lever. “As soon as Ronan’s settled, I’ll be there.”
“Ronan’s settled.” The night manager takes the full pint from me, pushes it to Saoirse, then starts on the second. “I’m here, you’re done, get out.” The Irishman nods his head toward the crowd.
“Get out as in sit over there and drink?”
“Not a choice I would make, but whatever makes you happy.”
I grab one of the full pints and follow Saoirse to the table Ian’s claimed in the back corner.
“Is your brother joining us?” I slide into a seat across from Ian and Saoirse, noting a fourth empty chair next to me.
“I told him his presence is required. He was salty that the girls weren’t sleeping over tonight. I convinced Mam to come up with a whole plan for them. Patrick needs a good night out.”
“Aw, he was excited about painting wooden figurines with them.”
Saoirse raises her eyebrows. “They can do it next time.”
“My kids are with their mother,” Ian says. “So this is a big night out for all of us.” He rubs Saoirse’s back with one hand, an obvioususbetween them. Envy sparks inside me. Not jealousy—because seeing the two of them happy together is wonderful—but a wish that I could ever have a relationship like that. Not one born from secrets or misunderstandings or sneaking around.
“Cheers.” Saoirse lifts her pint glass to clink with mine. “Let’s get drunk! Pleasantly drunk, and only drunk enough that I can still get up and function as a parent tomorrow.”
“So maybe just buzzed?” Ian suggests.
“Stop trying to ruin my fun, baby.”
Ian laughs and we all drink. I’m enjoying the moment until my phone buzzes. I pick it up as Ian whispers into Saoirse’s ear.
Stella
Hey girl, haven’t seen any pretty Caribbean pics in the past few days. Why you holding out on us?
Reese
Everyone send a picture of what they’re doing right now
Images pop up from both of them. Stella’s at a pub with Ethan, her boyfriend, and Reese is at Target with her high school senior daughter, Chelsea.
