Chapter Eight
Aidan
June sits in the passenger seat, hunched over the papers on her lap as she writes in her information. “Sorry you got roped into this,” she says without looking up from her work. “I doubt driving to Dublin and back was at the top of your list today.”
“Don’t mind.”
Cara truly does know the best people, and a friend from the embassy called right after June stepped out for a chat on her mobile. A last-minute cancellation for this afternoon meant she could squeeze in and get a temporary passport. She couldn’t just email paperwork to the embassy in Dublin, though—June had to show up in person with all the documents. She already missed the train that would have gotten her to the city in time, so that left her with only the option to drive—or rather, to be driven.
I could tell Cara hated asking me to give June a lift, but I dismissed her worries because I couldn’t avoid Dublin forever. The odds I’ll run into my ex are slim. She’s one person in a place of hundreds of thousands, and I’m a grown man who doesn’t need to hide from a former girlfriend.
“You shouldn’t go out of your way for me on Cara’s behalf,” June says as I drive. “You’re her best friend, I get that.” The way her fingers flip elegantly through the papers distracts me for a split second. “But I’m already crashing at your place, so no more special treatment.”
“You’re special to Cara, so you’re special to me.” That’s a simple truth—anything or anyone that matters to her matters to me too—but saying so out loud feels too intimate. “I only mean, so, you’re her half sister, and we’ve known each other for ages. Cara and me, I mean—you and I just met. And even though you only got here—”
Christ, my roundabout talking won’t stop. I never get this tongue-tied around Cara or Yaz.
“I understand,” June chuckles, putting me out of my misery. “Thank you for the ride. Better option than the bus.”
“That would’ve taken you twice as long.”
“I’m used to the subway. I can get from my apartment to pretty much anywhere in New York in less than an hour.”
“That’s different, though. The Big Apple versus all of Ireland,” I say.
“Nobody calls it The Big Apple . No one who lives in New York, anyway.”
“Not the point. The whole world is all of it, the big cities and small towns and the in between. Folks in cities think they’re the center of the universe, but life’s bigger than Dublin, or New York, or any place on a map.”
“True. Guess I’d feel kind of trapped if I didn’t have as many options to get around, that’s all.”
I swallow. Trapped is precisely how living in my hometown feels some days—like I can’t leave, no matter how hard I try. Life would look different if Michael hadn’t gone out that night.
“Okay, I have a question.” June takes a sip from her water bottle, leaving a few miniature droplets on her rosy lips. “And if you don’t want to talk about it, I understand.”
“Whatever you’re imagining happened at my interview, make it two hundred times worse.”
“I wasn’t going to ask that. But why did you leave in the first place? Stop school?”
“Oh. Family stuff.” I wait, unsure if sharing all the not-so-pretty details with her will make June regret asking. But she spent the whole day being vulnerable around me, what with meeting Cara’s parents. And this morning in the guest bedroom, when she had almost no clothing on.
I blink that beautiful thought away.
“My, uh, my older brother passed,” I continue, “and I had to come home for a time. School got put on hold.”
“I’m so sorry. That’s awful.”
“It was. It is.”
“On top of losing him, you made the sacrifice of coming home and leaving school. Your parents are lucky to have a son like you.”
“It’s nothing,” I say, almost laughing her observations away.
“I don’t think it’s nothing.”
“Well, I…I’m pleased to do it. I might not always be pleased about it, but I couldn’t imagine carrying on while my parents are…and Michael. He would’ve done the same if the situation called for him to.”
“Were you two close?”
“Quite the journalist, you are.”
She shrugs. “Just curious.”
Curious about me . I don’t want her to dig too deep and not like what she finds, though.
“We were close how brothers are, which means I idolized him and wished I could’ve been that cool. I was the shy kid who kept to himself and spoke as little as possible, but he made friends with everyone. Chatted up anyone who walked in the pub’s door.”
“You’re surrounded by reminders of him there too. That’s hard.”
I swallow the lump forming in my throat. Few people understand what a challenge it is to push my parents to move forward with their lives when the pub is so closely tied to Michael.
“But you’d rather not stay there? Continue working with your dad?”
I can’t bring myself to say no, but I let my shoulder hike up a little as I nod.
“They could hire someone to take your place. Then you could follow your own dreams.”
“It’s more than the pub.” I swallow. “I’m kind of holding the family together, so to speak. That’s the priority, not a degree.”
“Sure. Not that you need one, though.”
“How do you mean?”
“You could spend all your life sitting in classrooms and not learn a thing,” she says with a shrug. “People do it all the time. I get the appeal of school. I wish I’d done more myself sometimes. But there are people attending class all around the world studying how to become half as talented as you are. Real experience has as much weight as a degree, in some cases.”
“I think you’re talking rubbish with what you say to me, all because you and Cara are siblings.”
Her demeanor changes from warm to cold in a moment—like the sun dipping below the horizon at the end of the day. I don’t think I said anything wrong, but June seems more interested in quietly watching the world go by as we make our way into Dublin.
We arrive ten minutes before closing time. June races inside while I wait in the car. I chew over her suggestion that I don’t need school. I can’t effortlessly pick back up where I was, and maybe I shouldn’t, because I’m not who I was a year ago. But once Mam and Da return to a happy equilibrium, what should I do if I don’t do school?
June takes a while, so I’m certain she’s had some luck. I people-watch from behind the wheel. A group of business folks in grayscale peacoats and fancy leather shoes wait at the traffic lights. A middle-aged woman pushing a buggy is power-walking on the other side of the street. A bicyclist rings his bell and signals with an outstretched arm before racing past rows of two-story brick buildings.
The last time I was here, Mary and I were hunting for apartments. That was when I realized I could never be what she wanted. She outgrew me, and we both agreed we weren’t going to work, no matter how much we tried.
“I can’t wait around forever, Danny.”
The crack of the car door snaps me back to reality. June slips into the passenger seat with a frustrated frown on her face. “Well, I’ve got good news and bad news.”
Although we arrived late to the embassy, June met with Cara’s friend and dropped off all of her documentation. June says that’s the good news. The bad news is the passport won't be ready until tomorrow.
“You’ve already helped me a ton driving me here. You can go back to Ballygrá, and I’ll catch a train in the morning.”
I shake my head. What is it with June and feeling like she’s an obligation?
“I won’t abandon you here tonight. We’ll…we could get a hotel?” My offer comes out more like a question, since a hotel would mean uncertain sleeping arrangements. Would we share a room? Book separate rooms? We’d have dinner together at least, wouldn’t we?
“Yeah, a hotel could work.” In the setting sunlight, June’s cheeks turn rosier. “Or if you or Cara have friends here, that’s fine. I’m cool with couch surfing.”
“I might have someone. As long as he’s available, I’m certain he’ll have us.”
“Okay. Is that what you prefer?”
Her boundless eyes catch mine, and for a split second, I get the sense she’s daring me. My gulp echoes in the car as I envision us checking into a hotel room together—one hotel room. But no, that’s out of the question, and certainly not what Cara meant by taking care of June.
I call up my friend, Max, and he invites us right over. So much for the hotel fantasy.
“Been too long, man,” Max says in his loose American accent. He waves June and me into his Dublin flat with a grin. “How’ve you been?”
I met Max the spring semester of my postgrad. The company he works for in Dublin did a series of nationwide pop-up museums, one of them in Cork, and his time there coincided with my flatmate needing a subtenant. We roomed together for months, and he even liked my photos enough to feature two of them in the pop-up. Because I hurried home in the spring for the funeral, I missed the exhibit, though. We’ve kept in touch with texts here and there around holidays, but I didn’t know how he’d react to a surprise visit.
Turns out, he’s thrilled.
He sweeps the brunet chaos of his ear-length hair away from his face—in vain, since the waves fall right back into place. “Hey there,” he says, holding out his hand. “Max.”
“June. Nice to meet you.”
“You’re American too?”
“You remember my friend Cara?” I ask. “This is her half sister.”
“Cool, Cara’s great. Glad to have you,” Max says with his signature warmth. “Make yourselves comfortable.”
He fetches drinks from the kitchen, and we relax into the living room. His flat looks similar to a few of the places I scoped out in the spring. It has some grit to it but still looks hip—with exposed brick and high ceilings, sleek furniture, and a bookcase packed with literature. The whole setup is what I’d expect from Smithfield, the trendy area we’re in. The closer June and I got to Max’s address, the more quirky coffee shops and tiny restaurants we saw.
Max gives us some water and then sprawls out in a plush chair, swinging his legs over the arms. “It’s great to see you.”
“Sure we’re not putting you out tonight?” I ask. “We can sort out a few rooms somewhere if that’s easier.”
“I’d be offended if you did. You should’ve told me you’d be in town.”
“That’s my fault,” June says. “I’m the one who needed to get to Dublin. Aidan offered to take me last minute.”
“It’s kismet. You’re both welcome here as long as you’d like.” Max looks at me. “Last time we saw each other must’ve been when you were here looking at places with Mary.”
“Sounds about right.”
I offer nothing more about my ex and steer the discussion toward how Max has done up the place, asking him where he got the art on his walls. I’m not in the mood to talk about what happened with Mary, certainly not in front of June. Not that she’d care, but there’s no need to go into the gory details of my last relationship. Since she arrived, I’ve finally had someone around who hasn’t been weighed down by every piece of my baggage.
Max inflates an air bed for me and tells June to take his bedroom. “I’ll sleep on the couch,” he says to her. “It’ll give me some precious pillow-talk time with Danny over here.”
“Down, boy,” I say with a chuckle, although something like disappointment nestles into my chest. Part of me wants to watch June during those soft moments before bed. A laughable thought, though. If Cara were here and not her half sister, would the sleeping arrangements bother me? I need to usher those thoughts far, far away.
Since we hadn’t planned on the overnight stay, June goes out to purchase a few toiletries. Max points to a shop across the street through his living room window. I offer to go with her, but she insists she’ll be fine.
As the patter of her steps disappears into the stairwell, Max sits his lanky body on a stool. “So how’re you doing?” He rests his feet on the footrests, knees like arrows pointing in opposite directions. “Last you told me, we were gonna be neighbors out here. Then you text me that you and Mary are through, and that’s about all I’ve heard since.”
Max has a way of asking the right questions and listening, really listening, for the answers. I’d joked with him more than once that if he ever pursued a career as a therapist, he’d manage fine.
“Been better, I s’pose. You won’t believe where I was this morning.”
“Where?”
“Cork. Interview to go back.”
“Nice.”
“It was shite,” I say. “Total, utter shite.”
“You really are your harshest critic. I’ve seen your stuff. I’ve advocated for your stuff.”
“Don’t think spring’s gonna be the ideal time to pack up and leave anyway.”
“How’s the fam?”
“Also shite,” I snort. “Da’s on at me about the pub, Mam’s…she’s partly here. It’s like a piece of her died when Michael did. Which I understand, you know. She’s his mam. But…” I look up to Max, who is nodding his head with understanding—a concerned frown on his face, and his eyebrows wrinkled together as if he can hear what I don’t speak aloud.
But she’s my mam too.
“They need more time,” I go on.
“I couldn’t imagine doing what you’re doing for your mom and dad. You’re loyal, I’ll give you that much.”
“I wish I could let them handle the situation themselves.”
“Why can’t you?”
I scratch the stubble on my chin, imagining a world where I ran off to pursue my own dreams rather than putting my family first—one where I faced the guilt instead of sacrificing myself out of duty to my parents. “I don’t know.”
“That’s fine. You don’t need to know. When you’re ready, and if you ever change your mind about Dublin, I’ll be here.”
I kick off my shoes and lean into the couch, my legs tingling from the first stretch after a long afternoon of driving. “Even if things were going better between my mam and da, Dublin’s not me.”
“Yeah, it seemed like an odd fit when you’d mentioned it, to be honest. But I can contact some friends. Ask around, find out who’s looking for a photog. Or I could see who’s hiring. You’ve got a great eye, and that translates to all sorts of jobs.”
“Sure.”
“I’m serious. I get it, man, this past year sucked for you. Your brother, the breakup. But anyone would be lucky to work with you, and I know this because I have. You’re the most talented photographer I’ve ever met.” He pauses, making sure that I see the earnestness in his eyes. “You’re also the most talented photographer I’ve ever had the pleasure to live with.”
“Christ, you’re full of it,” I bark, tossing a pillow at him, which he diverts with an expert kick.
Pulling the focus away from the shambles of my life, I ask Max to fill me in on his past few months. The latest of who-knows-how-many pop-up museums he’s curated has been a massive success, landing him features in papers and magazines worldwide. His mam and da are still at the law firm, and his sister’s an honor student at school.
“I broke up with that bookstore owner I started seeing in May.”
“Sorry to hear that.”
“Eh, I’m not,” he says, nonplussed. “Just wasn’t feeling it.”
“Still friends?”
“You know it.”
Max is a good guy all around, especially when it comes to dating. While I’ve never seen him head-over-heels ecstatic about someone, his relationships always seem fun and easygoing. He also doesn’t seem too bothered when the flames cool down, and Max somehow manages to remain friends with almost all his ex-girlfriends. I wish I could channel some of that casual energy in my own life.
“I might’ve had to travel for some new pop-ups, so we wouldn’t have lasted. What about you and…” Max’s eyebrows hint toward the door.
“June?”
“Yeah. She’s cute, seems fun.”
“No. No, no, no,” I say, as if the more I repeat the word, the better I’ll get my point across. “She’s Cara’s half sister. And she lives in New York.”
“And?”
“The woman’s related to my best friend. That makes anything between us beyond friendship automatically…I don’t know. Awkward? I wouldn’t put June, or Cara for that matter, in that position. Some kind of rule about friends and their siblings.”
“Rules are made to be broken. Besides, if you both like each other, who cares?”
“I’ve no reason to believe June feels any particular way about me.”
“My mention of Mary piqued her interest.”
I’m more pleased with myself than I should be. “Well, that—that doesn’t matter. I don’t want to get in the way of her and Cara getting close. Besides, even if I were attracted to her, she lives in another country. Long distance is a beast of its own. I c-could do it for the right person, but that’s a lot to ask.” I clear my throat. “We could mess around, but I don’t…I’m more a relationship man. Huge surprise, I’m sure, considering my previous relationship lasted almost a decade.”
Max processes my word vomit in stillness. “Hm.”
“ Hm what?”
“Nothing,” Max leans back and cradles his head in both hands like a hammock. “Seems like you’ve put some serious thought into your hypothetical attraction to her.”
I roll my eyes again and chuck the other pillow at him. “You really are full of shite.”