Chapter 37 An Experiment in Losing a Competition I Didn’t Know I Had Signed Up For
We said nothing and rode in complete silence all the way to Galway.
I loved Galway, but unfortunately, we didn’t have much time.
I squeezed in a date at the trendy Coffeewerk + Press with Charlie the Uncharmed, who was not, despite my many progressively unhinged attempts at making jokes, the least bit charmed.
Tadhg sat only two tables over, looking particularly broody and protective, shooting angry looks at Uncharmed Charlie, presumably in case the man should try to adult-nap me. Nothing of the kind happened.
Conclusion: date unsuccessful.
Uncontrollable variable: my sense of humor.
Tadhg and I had an incredible dinner at Caribou, a cool hipstery spot where the buffalo cauliflower wings changed my life, but the stilted, awkward conversation had to be choked down with large gulps of beer.
We were both relieved when we stepped into The Crane for a trad session where conversation over the rousing beat was not an option.
The next morning, the three of us said goodbye to Tadhg’s Jeep and set off on the ferry.
It was a large ship, but Tadhg had to take several motion-sickness pills—the last ones he had—close his eyes, and sink down in a chair, plastic bag at the ready, just in case.
He refused to let me sit next to him, and there was no arguing, so I went to the top deck and enjoyed the incredible views.
I offered to take Finn with me, but she couldn’t be persuaded to leave the side of her master when he needed her.
It started to drizzle on the way, but by the time we pulled into the port on Inis Mor, the sun was shining again. It was beautiful.
Apparently, bikes were the thing to do here, they were how most tourists got around, but Tadhg needed a minute to regain his threatening macho demeanor after his fight with the sea, so I parked him at a café and walked up the slope of the road to a sweater shop and bought some beautiful mittens for my mom, who adored mittens, despite them being obviously ridiculous. Then Tadhg was ready, and we were off.
Cycling was glorious. I felt like I was flying.
Finn was freed from her leash and ran alongside, yipping in sheer joy.
This was not like cycling in the city; it was hilly and green and mostly car-free, and rolling downhill was absolute bliss.
The air was clean and crisp and blew back my hair in a way that stoked my craving for adventure.
Whatever ridiculous date Jackie had planned for me, I didn’t care, because it had brought me to this amazing place.
A man named Miles texted to say that he was going to be late: The plan was to walk up the hill to the three-thousand-year-old ruin of Dún Aengus, then go to a café for cake and tea afterward.
I was sure that I could enjoy that even when the date was inevitably terrible.
This was the biggest tourist site on the tiny island, and at the base of the hill was a little cluster of ancient whitewashed cottages with plenty of things to buy.
We went in one, and I started to make conversation with a lovely, chatty knitting lady, needles clacking away as we spoke.
She told us that she was one of the few shopkeepers in Ireland who still hand-knitted all her sweaters, and we ended up getting into a long conversation about yarns and traditional techniques, and she even showed me a new trick and let me practice on her needles.
She had knitted a tea cozy that resembled Michael D.
Higgins, and she asked me to take several photos of it so she could look at them on my phone, but she wouldn’t sell no matter how I pleaded.
Tadhg watched patiently from the doorway with Finn sitting at his feet, mostly because the shop wasn’t big enough to fit him comfortably.
I bought five beautiful moss-colored skeins of hand-dyed yarn at nineteen euro a pop.
“How many sweaters would that get you?” Tadhg asked.
“Five skeins? Just one.”
“What?” He held his arm out to the wall of perfect sweaters. “But you could buy one already made for the same price. Hell, you could buy ten regular sweaters at H&M for that price.”
“Yeah, but then I wouldn’t get to knit it myself. Where’s the fun in that?”
He lifted a disbelieving eyebrow.
“It’s gorgeous. Look at that. Feel it.” I shoved it into his big hand, and he gave it a half-hearted squeeze and shrugged. “You’re a nutter.”
The lady, who had already bagged the rest of my yarn but was holding it hostage, tried to rope Tadhg in for a little extra conversation. “Your wife is a pro on those needles.”
I gulped and choked on air and then coughed my lungs up.
“Aye, she’s good, isn’t she? Not my wife, though, I’m afraid.”
“Oh? What are you afraid of?” She laughed and then said something in Irish.
Not wanting to leave me out of the joke (see: embarrassment), she translated for me.
“I told him that you look like you know how to keep him warm.” She laughed again and I died and my carcass fell on the floor and I hoped she would knit me a pretty coffin.
“You know”—she nudged me—“because you can knit him a sweater or two.” She cackled this time, like a happy old witch, and then winked a very big wink to me, and then one to Tadhg, just in case we had somehow missed that she wasn’t talking about sweaters.
“Oh, I think that’s him there.” Tadhg mercifully changed the subject. “He said he’d be wearing a red rose in his lapel.”
At that, the knitter’s eyes were alive with mischief, but I thanked her profusely and ran out before she could get her claws into the meaty details.
The gentleman in question was handsome and distinguished-looking, probably in his early fifties, and his face stretched into a huge smile as he walked up to Tadhg and shook his hand.
“I’m Miles, and you must be . . .” he said, looking all the way up to Tadhg’s face.
“I’m Tadhg. This is Maya.”
Miles’s smile dropped a fraction. Jackie probably told him I looked like Margot Robbie. Sorry, Miles.
“Oh. I see. Well, very nice to meet you . . . both. And who’s this, then?”
“Oh, this is Finn.”
“Hello, lovely Finn.” Miles leaned down and scratched her behind the ears. “Well, let’s head up then, shall we, before the rain comes.”
“Is there rain coming?” I asked.
“Isn’t there always?” Miles said.
A joke. Look at that, a joke. I laughed, trying to be encouraging, but I accidentally laughed too loud, and he recoiled slightly.
Tadhg tried to hang back, but Miles seemed intent on engaging him in conversation—perhaps he found me too awkward and was happy to have a buffer—so we made our way up in what was essentially a rotating circle of awkward conversations.
Tadhg would hang back with Finn, Miles would loop back to join him, then I would loop back to join the other two so that I wasn’t just leading the way on the date like an overgrown Girl Scout, then Tadhg would hang back again, and the cycle would repeat itself, dizzying to all involved.
My date didn’t seem the least bit interested in being anything other than polite in passing during our rotations.
But that was fine by me. Message received.
I was glad that Tadhg was there, because as we climbed, I began to see more of the prehistoric fort, and then the sea, and realized that it was at the top of a cliff.
Why is it that everywhere we go in this country, there’s a goddamn cliff?
The wind picked up, and my sudden swoop of nerves had me instinctively sidling closer to Tadhg.
Silly, maybe, but I just felt safer when he was close.
Dún Aengus was a remarkable wonder. Semicircles of stone radiated out from cliffs that towered over the sea. How on earth had they built this? How on earth had they lived here? How had they possibly stayed warm? I had so many questions.
Miles, seemingly relishing the opportunity to impress us with the historical details, walked right up to the edge.
Like it was nothing at all. I took a step to follow, and then, I was too close.
I grabbed Tadhg’s hand and clutched it as if one stout wind could blow us straight over.
Then Miles turned around, and his smile dropped before he turned back to the sea and went on with whatever he was saying about mortar.
“She’s just—she’s afraid of heights, that’s all,” Tadhg explained, but he didn’t let go.
This guy had come to meet me, and there I was, holding the hand of the Greek god who was crashing our date.
I couldn’t help but feel bad for Miles, but frankly, at that moment I was too frightened to let go of Tadhg’s hand for anything in this world or the next.
“I see,” Miles said.
Things were noticeably quieter on the way down.
The café, which luckily was at the base of the hill, was called Nan Phaidi’s, which was pronounced like “naan fatties,” and it was the most adorable little thatched-roof cottage I think I’d ever seen in all my life.
With window boxes and heavy hanging baskets bursting with color, there were more flowers than cottage.
We all four filed in through the double set of doors, and something whizzed past my head and flew to a high window ledge.
It was a bird! Am I the only one seeing this?
Are we going to get in trouble? How am I going to catch that little guy and let him out?
The little bird made himself right at home and flew to pick up crumbs under people’s tables.
When I got up to the counter, I leaned in to whisper to the lady, “Um. I’m sorry, but somehow a little bird flew in with us. Is there . . . What should I do?”
She smiled. “Oh, that little robin is here every day, love. Comes for the warmth and the crumbs.” I smiled back.
I could not have been more delighted. “Cheeky little thing, isn’t he?
Clever too. He knows he’s got to make it through two swinging doors to get in or out.
Also seems to know when we lock up for the evening and always times his departure perfectly.
Sometimes he even brings friends with him. ”
“Oh my goodness, I love him! Can I buy him some seeds or something?”
She grinned. “Order yourself the carrot cake. That’s his favorite.”
I did as told, and I also ordered a massive slice of the Guinness chocolate cake and a tea, and we found a table with four chairs, all a bit awkward with where to sit.
“Should I . . .” Tadhg motioned to another table, looking uncomfortably between us.
“No,” I said too quickly.
Miles looked confused. “So . . . are you two . . .” He hesitated. “Brother and sister?”
Tadhg and I looked at each other, shocked. A laugh burst out of me. Ew! If only he knew what sort of depraved things I’ve been dreaming of doing to this man.
“Umm. No . . .” Tadhg hedged.
“Then why . . .” Miles looked even more confused. Then he leaned in, cocked his eyebrow, and whispered, “Is this, like . . . a group thing?”
Silence. It took a full six seconds to register. Then Tadhg’s eyes were as big as saucers. “No, mate. No. Nothing like that. I’m just Maya’s driver.”
“I’m sorry, dear,” Miles said to me and then turned back to Tadhg, “but why is she here?”
We all looked at each other in turn, like a comedy routine.
“She’s . . .” Tadhg started, “your date.”
“She’s not my date.”
“Umm,” Tadhg said.
“Umm,” I said.
“No offense, dear, but you’re not my type.
” The weight of the words made it pretty clear.
Oh, it all makes sense! “You are, though,” he said to Tadhg, because we seemed to be slow on the uptake.
“I said tall, dark, and handsome, but maybe I wasn’t clear enough with Jackie.
” His eyes roved unapologetically over Tadhg.
“One way or another, he definitely delivered right enough.”
It took less than thirty seconds to unravel. Tadhg apologized profusely. We had the rest of the tea and cake in complete silence.
The very best part was when the robin, with his pretty red breast and perfectly round little ball of a body, hopped down under my seat.
Tadhg held Finn’s collar tight, but she just lowered slowly to get a closer look while the fearless little robin ate his carrot cake crumbs.
When he was done, I gave Finn a chunk too, and they were the only two of us who left Nan Phaidi’s feeling satisfied.
Conclusion: date unsuccessful.
Uncontrollable variable: the irresistible attractions of Tadhg Kelly.