Chapter 1 #2
MacFarlane. My home for the past five years.
As of December, it was the ninth biggest investment bank in the world.
As of three weeks ago, it was nothing at all.
On a cloudy Sunday afternoon, while I was dropping too much money for a facial, it filed for bankruptcy and my entire world, along with thousands of other employees, came crashing down with it.
Everything in my life was tied to that company. Everything I’d worked for. Not just my salary but my investments, my savings. Everything I had I put into its hands because that was what we were encouraged to do. Now all of it was gone.
And I don’t know how I’m going to get it back.
My chest tightens as I sink into my seat, drawing my jacket around me.
“Are you still cold?” He doesn’t wait for an answer, leaning over to adjust the heating on my side. I breathe in as he does, catching the scent of him. Coffee and paper and soap.
Tyler always smelled of cologne. The same expensive cologne day in and day out. He’d go through two bottles of the stuff every year. It used to give me a headache.
Where are you?
It’s the fifth text he’s sent me in as many days. I haven’t replied to a single one.
Childish? Yes. But forgive me if I’m not thinking straight.
“Apologies about Ava.”
I push Tyler from my mind, focusing on the here and now. “The charming girl at the depot?”
Luke grimaces. “I think she was having a bad day.”
I think she has a giant crush on you . “Is she a friend of yours?”
“An old student. She graduated a while back.”
I glance over in surprise. “You’re a teacher?”
“A coach. I volunteer with the girls’ under-seventeen football team in my spare time.”
“Oh yeah? How are you guys doing this year?”
“Terribly,” he says with a self-deprecating grin. “But it’s the taking part that counts.”
“I’m sure.”
My hands now thawed thanks to the heating, I try my phone again, only to find it officially dead.
I stare at it for a second, angling the screen to try and see my reflection but it’s too dark in the car.
Then again, knowing how I looked the last time I saw it, I don’t think I even want to check.
I hadn’t given much thought to my appearance when I boarded the plane at JFK.
But now I wish I’d at least brought a comb.
“Do you need to call someone?” Luke asks.
“It’s okay. My sister’s going to be mad but she’s always mad. I’m hoping she’ll go easy after the day I’ve had.”
“How long have you been traveling?”
“About fourteen hours. I know,” I add at his glance. “I think I’m growing delirious.”
“A good night’s sleep and you’ll be grand.”
I hum in semi-agreement, straightening as we pass the entrance to the local forest. We can’t be more than ten minutes from the village.
It’ll be my first time back in years. Five of them, to be exact, and before that it was only ever brief visits, a few days at Christmas spent working from the back room where the Wi-Fi signal is best. When my salary went up, I started flying my parents out to New York, but the furthest Louise ever traveled to see me was Dublin, when I’d schedule in brief layovers that always ended in the two of us arguing over lunch before stiffly exchanging birthday cards or early holiday gifts.
Clonard itself has never been somewhere I’ve missed.
Has never been anything other than the place where I happened to grow up.
But still. I suppose I should feel something .
Some sentimental tug of the heartstrings, some unexpected well of emotion, even if it is misplaced.
Instead, all I feel is an increasing dread.
“Is this a bad time to tell you I also charge eighty-five euro?”
I turn to Luke in alarm as he snaps me from my self-pity.
“Plus tip,” he adds, sounding so serious that I believe him for a whole other second before I catch his smile.
Mother of— “You’re an asshole.”
“College isn’t cheap.”
“It’s not.” I sit back, playing along. “Would you settle for the ten dollars I have in my pocket?”
“With this exchange rate? You got anything from duty-free?”
“I took some of those little bottles of alcohol from the plane.”
“Throw in one of those travel pillows they give you and you’ve got yourself a deal.”
He winks at me and I feel a rush of gratitude. It’s the first time in weeks someone’s tried to cheer me up in a way that didn’t involve drugs or a pyramid scheme.
“Seriously though,” I say. “At least let me help with gas money.”
“ Gas money.”
I roll my eyes. “Petrol.”
“There you go. And your suitcase is in?”
“The boot,” I answer. “Not the trunk.” I hold up my phone. “Mobile.”
“You’re good at this game.”
“I’ve had a lot of practice. And I don’t have an accent.”
“You have a little twang.”
“A twang ?” I stare at him in mock horror. “And what do you have? A lilt?”
“A brogue. It’s completely different.”
“Now you’re definitely making fun of me.”
“Ah, only a little bit.” His eyes slide to me. “I got you smiling though.”
He did. For the first time in I don’t even know how long.
“What?” he asks when I don’t say anything. I’m watching him fully now, not even pretending to be discreet about it.
“Nothing.”
“I got something on my face?”
I shake my head as his gaze flicks between me and the road. Once, twice, three times and I wonder if he feels it too. That spark of attraction I felt as soon as I turned around.
I’ll admit it’s a little surprising because (a) I've only just met the man and (b) the only other person I’ve felt about this way recently is Tyler and he’s probably off sleeping with someone else this very second. Maybe before he even— No.
I shut that thought down before it can go any further. He never gave me any indication he cheated on me.
I’m feeling this way because I’ve barely slept in the last few weeks.
Because I lost my partner and my job and I’m one step away from rock bottom and so, of course, I gravitate to the first bit of kindness I’m shown.
Of course, if I’m in close confines with a handsome, nice-smelling stranger, I’ll start to get a little… smiley.
My friend Jess would be thrilled if she could see me now. She always moaned about how boring I became once Tyler and I got together. That I wasn’t any fun anymore.
But I can be fun. I can be… well, not impulsive. Intuitive maybe.
The car slows as we reach a red light and Luke pulls up the handbrake.
“Back to serious,” he says, catching my eye. “What are you thinking about?”
I go to answer but something tugs at the back of my mind, a flash of déjà vu that vanishes before I can grasp it.
I’m definitely delirious. Delirious and exhausted and losing my mind because all I can think about is… what? What am I going to do?
Ask him out for a drink? Do people still do that? He’d probably laugh in my face. Or kick me out of his car.
Except the way he’s looking at me now makes me think he wouldn’t do either of those things. The way he’s looking at me now makes me think if I showed the slightest inclination, he’d do whatever I asked. Whatever I wanted.
“Abby?”
My heart stutters at the familiar way he says my name. “Ask me again.”
“What?”
“Ask me again what I’m thinking about.”
He looks surprised. “Are you flirting with me?” he asks instead.
“A little.”
“You’re good at it.”
I’m pretending to be good at it. I’m pretending to be cool and suave and not start giggling like that girl in the parking lot, that girl who I now completely understand, by the way.
He smiles when I don’t respond, jumbling my thoughts even more. “Is that it? I thought you were flirting.”
“I am!”
He laughs. “You’ve got to keep it moving! You’ve got to be quick.”
“I’m tired.”
“That’s a terrible excuse.”
“Well, you flirt then. Since you’re so confident.”
“I don’t think you’re ready for that yet,” he says seriously. “It’s pretty powerful stuff.”
“Now who’s— Jesus!”
I jump as a car horn blares behind us, sending my heart racing in a way that can’t be good for my health.
It sounds again, angrier now, and Luke twists in his seat, giving whoever’s behind us the finger as he shifts us into gear. “I’m going,” he calls, as we stutter forward through the now green light.
Barely a second later the other driver overtakes us before pulling rapidly away, the engine roaring into the distance.
“Dickhead,” Luke mutters, glaring after him. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“They’re going to hurt someone. That’s— You sure you’re okay?”
I nod as he checks the rearview mirror, almost like he expects there to be a line of traffic behind us. “Are you okay?” I ask. He doesn’t look okay. He looks rattled, still a little mad.
“Yeah. It’s late,” he adds, as if that explains everything, and before I can respond he presses down on the accelerator and the world outside blurs by again.
Still feeling a little skittish, I force myself to turn back to the window as the forest gives way once more to fields, the odd farmhouse and then, before I know it, the graveyard marking the boundary of the village.
It’s not the most welcoming of sights and it’s only made weirder by the tourist sign outside. fáilte go clonard it says in flowing Irish words. Welcome to Clonard. They didn’t include the thanks for stopping by. here’s where we keep the dead people. but that’s probably for the best.
We zoom past both it and the elegant church where my parents were married and, just like that, I’m back.
Home.
Except it’s not my home. Not anymore.
I start to panic as the roads grow increasingly familiar, even in the dark. In five seconds we’ll pass the pink house with the butterfly sculptures on the wall. After that, the playground and then—
“Left.”
“What?”
“You can take a left,” I say, louder now as I direct him the long way around the village.
Luke looks at me, confused, but I’m not ready to see everything else just yet, so I simply point to the turn up ahead until he thankfully does as requested, driving down the older narrow road.
The only time I talk now is to tell him where to go until we eventually reach my street and stop in front of a small two-story house.
My sister’s place, my childhood home, sits quietly in the darkness, one lonely light on in the upstairs landing. The driveway is empty. Her husband, Tomasz, still at work.
“You sure someone’s in?” Luke asks.
“She’s probably in bed.”
I know I should thank him for his help. I know I should get out of his car. But I don’t move. I can’t move. Not because I don’t want to leave him, but because I don’t want to go inside. Now that I’m here, I’d rather be anywhere else.
I don’t know why I thought this would be a good idea. Why I thought I could actually do this .
And he must sense something’s wrong because though Luke turns the engine off, he doesn’t push me out of the car, doesn’t try to hurry me along even though he must be tired.
“Listen,” he begins, sounding oddly guilty, but I don’t let him finish.
“Thanks for the ride. Maybe I’ll see you around.”
He seems torn, but he lets it go as he nods.
“I can get my stuff,” I add.
He ignores me, getting out with me and retrieving my luggage from the trunk. Boot. “Good luck” is all he says when he places it on the curb.
I give him a final, polite smile and wheel my case up the short driveway.
He doesn’t start the engine until I’m standing on the porch and even when I do the stupid “okay, bye” wave he doesn’t leave, no doubt playing the gentleman and waiting until I’m safely inside.
There’s a lengthy pause once I press the bell, long enough that I think Louise actually is in bed, and I’m just about to turn around when the porch light snaps on, blinding me.
“Finally!”
My sister throws open the door, dressed in her pajamas. “I was about to call the guards!”
I open my mouth to explain but don’t get a chance as she pulls me inside, berating me the entire time. The engine starts behind me, but by the time I extract myself from her grasp, the car is driving off, leaving me behind.