Chapter Twenty-Four #2
I covered my face with my hands, and when I pulled them away, laughing, I could tell that Eamonn might’ve thought I’d started crying instead. He had a look of concern that evened out once he saw that I was okay.
“I just can’t believe we’re talking about this,” I said, “in front of William.”
He grinned. “He can handle it,” he said. “After all that shit that went down with Maud Gonne.”
I nodded knowledgeably, even though I was thinking of the parts of that history I only knew from the Cranberries song, and from the expression on Eamonn’s face, I felt like he could tell.
“I can’t believe we did all that so close to a church,” he said. “It wasn’t exactly on my mind at the time.”
His voice was light, and I already knew he wasn’t particularly religious, but still I felt another pang of guilt on his behalf. “So maybe you do feel god, at least a little bit.”
He could’ve just pointed out that what he was feeling was probably closer to the vestigial remnants of societal pressures, his mother’s influence, whatever. But he was looking out over the landscape, quiet before he finally turned back to me. “Maybe I do.”
Those black birds were swirling overhead again.
They’d settle on top of the trees, like they were ready for a rest, and then in a flurry they’d all be off, calling out to each other as if to say, It’s on, lads, let’s go.
Or at least that was how I imagined them now in my head, Irish accents and all.
Eamonn was watching me watch the birds. “So what do you want to do?” he asked.
“We can hang out here for a couple more hours, wait for the church to open. We can go back to the car to sleep a little, although…” From the way he trailed off, I knew he was thinking more about the way I’d woken up, how upset I seemed to be at having fallen asleep in the first place, than about the chances of us repeating what we’d done before.
I trusted him more than I trusted myself.
I had been the one to initiate things, and I couldn’t say with one hundred percent certainty I wouldn’t be tempted to try again.
“I’d rather not sleep,” I said.
He looked like he’d expected that answer. “I saw a place a little up the road. How would you feel about trying to get some coffee?”
As we were headed back to the car, I reached into the pocket of my jacket to retrieve the key, which I’d taken out of the ignition when I’d decided to follow him. But he surprised me by not immediately taking it.
“Have you ever driven a manual?”
“A long time ago,” I said. “I’m not sure I’d remember.”
“It’s like riding a bike,” he said. “And we won’t be going more than a couple of kilometers. Want to give it a try?”
I didn’t know what made me more nervous—driving a stick shift, driving on the opposite side of a vehicle on the opposite side of the road, or just driving Eamonn’s beloved car at all, when I knew it was important to him.
But maybe it was because it was important to him that I also wanted to try. Something told me he didn’t make the offer lightly.
“Sure,” I said. “But if I’m like, permanently fucking up your car, you have to promise me you’ll make me pull over and we can switch.”
“Oh, I promise,” he said, but he gave me a smile to take the sting out of it.
I had to move the seat up to reach the pedals, which made me blush when I even thought of why it had been helpful to have it a little farther back less than an hour ago.
Eamonn gave me a quick overview, reminded me of where the gears were, told me about a couple particular quirks to this car, and then seemed to just trust that… I could drive.
“I don’t know why I agreed to this,” I said.
“You’re grand,” he said. “Don’t forget the clutch.”
Despite his instructions, I immediately stalled out exiting the parking lot, and Eamonn had to walk me through how to get going again.
Once I’d pulled onto the main road and settled into driving—with a slightly jerky transition from one gear to another, but it was fine—I let myself relax in my seat a little.
“The kindest thing someone ever did for me,” I said, “was when I was first learning to drive. My first car was a stick, actually, because it was what my dad drove. I was all by myself, and trying to turn left onto this busy road, and there was a middle lane but it had those barriers up to stop people from merging into the turn lane too soon, I don’t know what they’re called? ”
I glanced over at Eamonn, but he just shook his head, bemused.
“It doesn’t matter. The point is, I was getting so stressed, because every time I thought I could turn, traffic got too backed up, and those barriers meant that I had a very small space to work around.
Finally there was this car that had stopped at the light, but no one was behind them yet, so they backed up and gestured for me to pull ahead of them. ”
“That’s the kindest thing anyone’s ever done for ya?” Eamonn sounded really incredulous now.
“Well, no. Not the kindest. But it’s stayed with me. The idea that a stranger would’ve gone out of their way like that.”
“It was reversing a bit. I wouldn’t say it was going out of their way.”
“It meant more to me because of the situation,” I explained, “which they couldn’t have known. But that’s also why it mattered. They didn’t know, they just…did it. I’m probably not describing it well.”
Was this how Eamonn had felt the whole time he’d been driving, when I could watch him while he had to watch the road?
I was very conscious of his attention on me, the way his gaze stayed on my face before drifting to my hand on the steering wheel, before he looked back out the window.
“No, no, you are,” he said. “I’m being a cynical bastard.
I like the way you see the world. It makes me think… ”
But I never got to hear him finish that sentence, because we’d apparently arrived at our destination. He directed me into the small parking lot next to an unassuming building, and I made a wincing whoops face as the car lurched a little when I took the turn.
“Ah, don’t look like that,” Eamonn said, laughing. “You’re brilliant.”
I pulled into a space next to a hand-painted sign that said, helpfully, COFFEE + TEA. When I’d successfully parked, I flashed Eamonn a triumphant smile and he returned it, his blue eyes bright and that dimple popping out in his cheek again.
“See,” he said. “Nothing to it.”
I didn’t know if I would say that—it had been a little stressful, especially when everything was flipped and counterintuitive.
But I did feel proud of myself that I’d done it, and it had helped to ease a lot of my earlier anxiety—about that dream, about whatever it all meant, about Eamonn and me hooking up and then both falling over ourselves to apologize for it.
Our triumph was also short-lived, because it became quickly apparent that the coffee shop wasn’t even open.
I would’ve made another comment about how this was just my luck, except I didn’t feel like it was bad luck anymore.
It felt like…reality. Places were closed.
I also couldn’t bring myself to care much about it, when even the anticipation of a warm cup of coffee was secondary to the pleasure I felt just from being there.
The countryside around us was so pretty, covered in a low fog.
There were more mountains in the distance, their peaks showing through the clouds, and there wasn’t much traffic on the road yet.
“Did you want to head back?” Eamonn said. “See the church after all? It’s really beautiful inside. In a different way from Saint Patrick’s.”
“Maybe,” I said. It seemed like the sort of thing I should want to do. If this were a normal tourist trip, I would’ve wanted the whole experience. But I didn’t feel any particular draw to walking around awe-inspiring spaces and taking in the history today. I felt so removed from all that.
“Trying to think what else there is to do around here,” he said.
“Although we could always drive somewhere else. It’s Sunday, so some places might not be open.
But nearby there’s Sligo Abbey if it’s the season yet, there’s Carrowmore if you’re into megalithic monuments, there’s a forest walk around Benbulbin although I don’t know if you’ve got the shoes for it.
The village is pretty, with the river and all that. ”
“I appreciate it,” I said. “I really do. I’m just not sure if I have any more sightseeing in me today. I’m sorry, I’m a terrible guest to your island.”
“Nah, it’s no bother,” Eamonn said. “We could just drive. Find some open road for you to really push her to her limit.”