Chapter 17
Jess tells me she’s staying four days. Four days sleeping in the tiny spare bed in Louise’s converted office.
Four days in my tiny village where the Wi-Fi signal is spotty at best. Four days of having my best friend back.
Four days of having the most unpredictable person I know be in the most predictable place.
Jess’s mind moves too fast for any kind of plan to order her world.
If she makes a bad decision, she doesn’t dwell because she’ll have made another before you can even question it.
Which is why I’m not completely shocked when I return from brushing my teeth the next morning to see her sitting on her unmade bed, unwrapping a parcel that just arrived.
“What are those?”
“Hiking boots.”
“And are we going on a hike?” I ask when she doesn’t explain further.
“Ding ding! Ten points to the girl with too much dry shampoo in her hair.” She discards a wad of tissue paper onto the floor. “I ordered them before I got on the plane. I thought we could go up those mountains you told me about.”
“Today?”
“Yes, Abby, today. Unless you have other plans you’ve forgotten to share?”
“Don’t you need to wear those in a bit first?”
“I have the perfect size-seven feet. I’ve never had to break in a pair of shoes.
” She sticks her foot into one, pulling the laces tight.
“And don’t look at me like that. It’s not like you have anything better to do.
I’m only here for a few days and I want to see the sights.
” She looks up at me, her smile dropping at my reluctance.
“I don’t know why I’m even pretending you have a choice,” she continues.
“Because you don’t. Suit up. Boot up. We’re going on a hike. ”
I know better than to try and change her mind. Louise lends me a pair of her old walking shoes and I grab a pair of leggings and a light T-shirt. Jess, of course, looks like she just stepped out of a Patagonia catalog but I’m used to that by now.
“It will take us an hour to get there,” I say to her as I fill up our water bottles in the kitchen. “We can stop for lunch after and you can eat overpriced Guinness stew or something.”
“You’re making fun of me but I am totally going to do that. Do you want to come?”
I glance over my shoulder to see Louise hovering in the doorway.
My sister looks surprised. “Me?”
“Sure. You busy?”
“She’s working,” I say.
“I’m not,” Louise says pointedly. “It’s a bank holiday.”
Oh.
“Then what about a bit of girl time?” Jess asks. “I’d love a local guide. Abby doesn’t count. She got lost coming back from the forest yesterday.”
“I did not.” I scowl. “They changed the shortcut.”
Louise is unsure. “Tomasz has a shift later. He’s taking the car.”
“We’re using my one,” Jess says. “Come on. It will be fun!”
“Okay.” Louise glances my way as if waiting for me to protest and, when I don’t, backs out of the room. “Give me five minutes to change.”
“Take your time,” Jess calls after her, and, ignoring my look, grabs her water bottle and heads out the front door.
“What are you doing?” I whisper as I catch up with her.
“I’m bringing you and your sister closer together.”
“We don’t need—”
“Yes, you do. You’re like children throwing a tantrum in the back seat.”
“We are not!”
“It’s done now,” she says reasonably. “So there’s no use arguing about it.”
“You’re unbelievable.”
“I know.” She grins and throws her backpack into the trunk.
It takes Louise far less time to get ready than Jess and I, and soon the three of us are in the car, with Louise in the passenger seat so she can give directions.
That leaves me in the back, while not exactly throwing a tantrum, definitely getting a little hint of childish jealously at my best friend and older sister chatting away. But even that’s pushed momentarily from my mind as we approach the mountains in the distance.
I tried to hide my Irishness when I first moved abroad, desperate to fit in.
I used to think it was lucky that my name didn’t immediately give the game away and that all I needed to do was tone down my accent and learn the vernacular and no one would think to question where I was from and if I deserved to be there.
It was only later in New York that I realized I could use it to my advantage.
I became “the Irish girl” and was adept at feigning interest when superiors discussed their third cousins twice removed in parts of the country I’d never even set foot in.
My country became nothing but a tool for me to stand out from the crowd.
I didn’t join any diaspora groups. I didn’t even wear green on St. Patrick’s Day.
Ireland and Clonard were where I grew up but it wasn’t my home—it didn’t define me—and yet just as I felt on the beach those few weeks ago, the distinctive sight of Benbulbin mountain in the distance, with the sun moving steadily over its broad flat head, is undeniably moving. Dramatic and beautiful and mine.
And it is mine.
Whether I try to ignore it or not, this place belongs to me and I feel unusually proud as we pull into the parking lot for the local trails and Jess starts taking a million pictures.
It’s the perfect day for a hike. Blue sky, white clouds, and a light breeze to keep you cool.
Unfortunately, a lot of other people think so too and the base of the trail is full with similar-minded people but they spread out along the different paths and after a few minutes of nodding at everyone who goes past and moving to the side to let the more serious climbers overtake us, the three of us are left alone.
Jess keeps up a polite conversation at the start, peppering Louise with questions about her charity and in turn answering Louise’s equally polite questions about the glamorous world of luxury real estate.
But about thirty minutes into the climb the conversation peters out as the path grows steeper and soon the only noise is the sound of our heavy breathing.
Jess quickly takes the lead, navigating the terrain as if she climbs it every day.
“You’re good at this,” Louise says at one point, sounding vaguely suspicious.
“That’s because she’s a fitness freak,” I explain as Jess grins over her shoulder at me. “She’s good at everything.”
“Not everything.”
“You should have been a personal trainer.”
“And have to deal with people like you? I tried to take her to a CrossFit class once,” Jess says to Louise. “But she doesn’t like people yelling at her. Except in the office.”
Louise glances my way. “They yelled at you?”
“Not at me,” I say, uncomfortable. “Around me maybe.”
“Don’t worry about your little sister,” Jess says, ruffling my hair. “Abby also did a little yelling. She’s a badass, don’t you know? Gives as good as she gets. At least to the men.”
“Jess—”
“One time when we were interns, she stood up to our boss and I thought for sure this girl is getting fired. Like for sure. I’ve seen people go for less. But of course with Abby, he thought it was the most wonderful thing.”
“Probably because I was a girl,” I say. “There were only five of us after all.”
“Out of how many?” Louise asks.
“You don’t want to know.”
“Hey, man, discrimination works both ways.” Jess smirks. “He moved her onto his client that day. I couldn’t keep up with her.”
“You did pretty well for yourself,” I mutter.
“I’ve got luck and privilege. You’ve got the talent.”
We eventually reach the peak, timing it just as another group is heading back down, meaning we have the place to ourselves, and we gather a little from the edge, gazing out at the countryside below.
As if on cue the clouds part, allowing a sharp bolt of sunlight through before it gentles over the rolling hills, illuminating the green and yellow fields.
The three of us simply stare at it for a few seconds before Jess breaks first with a choice curse word.
“That’s not a bad view,” she adds. “I can feel my skin clearing.” She throws her arms wide and takes in a deep breath.
“I see why you care so much,” she says to Louise.
“Abby said you’re very keen about saving the world.
What did you say, Abs? That Louise was the only thing standing between us and the destruction of the ocean? ”
I said no such thing and she knows it but she only winks at my glare.
Louise looks embarrassed. A pleased kind of embarrassed.
“We do what we can,” she says.
“Well, it’s more than I do,” Jess quips. “You’re going to have to send me some links. Abby says you’re fundraising for a new boat.”
That perks her up. “We are. We’d be thrilled to have someone like you on board.”
“You mean me and my money?”
Louise nods. “Yes.”
Jess laughs, draping an arm around her shoulder. “I like you.”
I snort, shrugging off my backpack. Now that we’ve paused I realize how hungry I am and I think longingly to the trail mix at the bottom of my bag.
“This is a good spot for a break,” Louise says as my stomach rumbles and I dump my bag down gratefully, rooting around for the snacks.
Jess wanders off to film a video but Louise stays put, handing me a tinfoil-wrapped package as she sits beside me.
“When did you have the time to make food?”
“I knew you’d get hungry. You’re always hungry.”
“No, I’m not,” I say, unwrapping a plain ham sandwich. The bread is a little squashed from the climb but is soft and delicious. I finish it in three bites. “I am,” I admit. “And you always feed me. Even as kids, you’d always give me half your lunch when we were on car trips.”
“That’s because you’d complain if I didn’t.”
“No, it’s because you took care of me.”
She looks surprised. Of course, she is. I’m surprised too but I don’t take it back and she doesn’t correct me.
“She’s not how I imagined your friends,” she says instead, glancing at Jess.
“How did you imagine them?”
She shrugs. “I don’t know. Snooty. Maybe a bit mean.”
My smile fades. Mean like me?
“She’s lovely,” Louise continues.
“Tell her that to her face and then up her monthly donation. She won’t be able to resist.”