Page 97 of Since We're Here
Shit. I can’t answer the call. I’m working at O’Brien’s in Ireland, not at a resort in Saint Lucia.
I click ignore then tap out a text.
Me
Sorry, I’m working! Once again, I feel great, I promise. No headache, scrapes all healed
Reese
Proof of life, sister, right away, or I book a flight
She sends a screenshot of a round-trip flight to Saint Lucia from Newark. In reality, Stella is much closer, just across the channel in England.
I immediately take a selfie with the same nondescript wall of the bar in the background, like Patrick suggested weeks ago.
Me
This is from yesterday afternoon at the pub with some coworkers. See? I look healthy as a horse
Reese
Should you be drinking with a concussion? And shouldn’t you be tanner? Or are you pale because you feel awful?
Me
1) I was being social and I drank tea, 2) I’m offended, I use sunscreen like a good thirty-something, and 3) how many times can I tell you I feel fine??
Reese
Ha, okay. Take care of yourself. I worry about you! Congrats on your extended internship. I’m assuming it’s a good thing that they want you to stay longer. Will you have to make up any classes? When is your flight home?
I groan at her barrage of mini-mom questions.
My original flight back across the Atlantic is supposed to be this Friday. I should get on that plane and go back home for a few weeks before the road trip, then fly back to Ireland with Reese once I’ve come clean about everything.
That’s not what I’m doing.
Instead, I told my sisters that the resort extended my internship for another few weeks.
There’s no logical reason for me to stay here. I’m almost done planning the road trip. I’ve gotten a break from my life and had time to think about my past and what I want for the future.
A fresh start back in Jersey. Avoid the same mistakes I’ve made previously.
The fact that I’m dating someone I work with right now and letting my feelings rage out of control? Inconsequential. I can do whatever I want in this little interlude. Real life starts back home.
I’m not going to leave yet.
Last night, I changed my return flight to after the road trip. Including the trip, I’ll get to spend almost six more weeks withPatrick. My chest warms at the thought of all that time to be with each other.
I’m waiting to tell Patrick that little nugget of information. We haven’t talked about my exact departure date, anyway. I’m off tomorrow night, so I might make him dinner and tell him then.
Hopefully he’ll be excited.
Hopefully he won’t be able to tell I’m falling in love with him.
There’s a warm twist in my stomach at the thought of it. But it’s not a mere thought. So I’m staying. And working at O’Brien’s. I belong here.
For now.
