The Write Escape

by Charish Reid

  The auditorium was filled to capacity just as Donald cleared his throat. “I think it’s time we got started,” he said to the shuffling audience. People took their seats and chatter died down. “I’d like to introduce this panel of scholars who have set aside time to share their valuable research in cultural studies. These men and women will discuss the importance of Irish Literature and its role in the global community. I will contribute through the lens of philosophy, so I offer my apologies now.”

  The audience chuckled at Donald’s self-deprecating humor. Robert came back to the stage and sat beside Aiden. “He tells that joke every year,” he said in a low voice.

  “I would like to start us off with Dr. Aiden Byrnes, our own senior lecturer from the English Department. His paper, ‘Roll the Old Chariot Home: The Parallel History of African American and Irish Homecomings’ will surely set the tone for this evening’s education. Please help me welcome Dr. Aiden Byrnes to the podium.”

  Aiden stood as the audience clapped for him, and walked to the podium. As he settled his papers and adjusted the microphone for his height, he looked over the crowd that sat waiting. He imagined them as his students, only happier to be there. A smile came to his lips.

  “My father,” he started. “Was a Limerick man in search of a home. He was a restless sort who took to the water when the itch caught him. And when he did return to his family, it was only in fleeting appearances punctuated with his bombastic voice singing a tune that still sticks with me. ‘Roll the Old Chariot’ was not his song, but he adopted it in a way that folks have adopted narratives for centuries. Raise your hand if you’ve ever heard the song,”

  Aiden waited and a few audience members raised their hands. He was surprised to find a good few of them did know the song. He continued. “Now this isn’t part of my timed talk, but if you’ll indulge me, I’d like to sing just a couple of lines from the song. Will you allow that? I promise that I’m a better singer than my father.”

  There was a collective laugh from the audience with a few people clapping their encouragement.

  “Excellent, follow along with me if you’re brave enough,” Aiden said, clearing his throat. “Oh we’d be alright, if the wind were in our sails, we’d be alright if the wind were in our sails...” He was surprised yet again, when a few brave souls fell in sync with him. Their voices rising in trepidation and good humor. Aiden sang with a comical bravado that got people to laugh, but the majority of the audience was actually singing by the time he wrapped it up. The crowd applauded him and themselves for their participation. Scholars were a stuffy bunch, but Aiden had the ability to shake them loose from their solemn protocol. Perhaps this was the charm Robert talked about.

  “Alright, alright,” he said, holding his hands up. “I still have to get to my paper,” he said with a smile. “That song was easy enough to follow because it’s what’s known as ‘call and response.’ You can find rhetorical device in many work songs but a great deal of its roots are found in the African American church and ultimately on the old plantations of the South. This song especially. What my father failed to recognize, as an Irishman, was that he wasn’t the only one trying to get home or even find a home for his restless spirit. There was an entire people that he could relate to, a people who were forcibly wrenched from a homeland and aching to return. Today I want to talk to you about this call and response between the black experience and the Irish Experience. We’ll focus on my observations on homecoming narratives.”

  Now that he had their attention with a stirring introduction, Aiden went through his paper at a steady speed, pausing at the right spots to interject an anecdote or joke. He had the crowd wrapped around his finger. When he finished, he realized that this moment was the most excited he’d ever been about his own work. His ideas and delivery had the power to entertain and educate people. At the podium, he created an intimacy with people that rivaled a man holding court in a local pub. Looking over his audience, he seemed to see them for the first time, not as a hurdle to cross, but as fellow intellects. Aiden belonged beside them.

  That was when a flash of yellow caught his eye.

  Aiden’s mouth went dry and the pounding in his head drowned out the sound of applause. Antonia stood in the back of the auditorium wearing the yellow dress from Tully Cross. She looked just as beautiful today as she did on that day. A surge of excitement shot through his body, as he watched her tucked a curl behind her ear. The only thing missing was a soggy cake in her hands.

  Aiden gripped the sides of the podium as he locked gazes with her. She came to me. He barely heard Donald approach the podium. It was time for a quick Q&A and for the first time, Aiden was nervous. She came to me...

  “We’re going to make time for a couple of quick questions for each speaker,” Donald announced. “And after all the speakers have presented, we’ll have a larger rolling dialogue.”

  Aiden nodded, still shaken by his lover’s appearance. “Yes,” he breathed. “If anyone has a question...” Dozens of hands went up, but Aiden kept his eyes trained on Antonia, who raised her hand with hesitance. “Right, you in the yellow?”

  A grad student ran toward her with a microphone, when she took it she thanked him with a shaky voice. “Hello,” she started. “I’m very interested in the link you’ve made between black and Irish work songs. Can you speak on the intersection of the two folklores and the music they’ve produced?”

  Aiden leaned toward the microphone. “Could you give me an example of what you mean?”

  Antonia paused where she stood and held the microphone close. “Well... I’ve only just learned about the Celtic folklore of the selkie and it reminds me of the Nina Simone song ‘Sealion Woman.’ I just wondered if there were any connections.”

  Aiden could have walked off stage and kissed her. “Yes, my selkie... I mean the selkie folklore,” he said, quickly covering his misstep. “Uhh, for those of you who might not be familiar: The selkie is a seal maiden who becomes a woman and falls in love with a hapless fisherman, but her true home is the sea. If the fisherman can successfully hide the selkie’s fur coat, she can stay with him forever. But it rarely works out.

  “The Nina Simone song is an adaptation from a folk song from Mississippi,” he continued. “While its origins are probably sea-related, the woman in question may not be a selkie... She’s most likely a prostitute, who tricked sailors out of their money. We’re still unclear on the actual title of the song. It could be See-lyin’ Woman or Sea-line Woman, which would suggest a more sexual nature.”

  “Thank you,” she replied. Her voice now on solid footing. “Perhaps I could ask you more about seafaring folklore after the talk.”

  Aiden cleared his throat as he stared at her. Cheeky little... “Yes,” he said in a husky voice. “I can, uh, clarify that with you. Afterward. I mean, later. Sure.” Before he could stumble over himself anymore, he stepped away from the podium. Aiden returned to his seat at the table without taking another question, prompting Donald to quickly introduce the next presenter. He glanced at Lisa, who raised a black brow in his direction. She looked from him to Antonia, who’d receded back against the doors, and back to him. Lisa Brennan actually smirked while she gathered her papers, causing Aiden to blush.

  Antonia didn’t stay for long. She exited the auditorium after her question, leaving Aiden to wonder why she came. What did it mean? And would she stay for just a little while longer to talk things out? While Donald introduced Lisa to the podium, he felt a buzz in his breast pocket. Aiden quietly slipped his phone out and laid it on the table. The text that lit his screen answered his questions.

  I thought I’d try this again. That’s if you want to talk.

  Aiden exhaled. They never exchanged phone numbers, but she was texting him. He figured that he had his mother to thank for that. Glancing over at Lisa, who was starting her paper, he carefully typed his reply. Of course I do. I have a fight to continue.

 
He set his phone to silent and waited for her reply.

  I was hoping you’d say that. Fight after your panel?

  Please meet me at the banquet for drinks. Thank you for wearing yellow xxx.

  I will. Now put away your phone. You don’t want to look like a student.

  Aiden did as he was told, slipping the phone back into his jacket. He fought to keep a smile from his face as his ex-girlfriend presented on Bram Stoker. His lover was nearby, waiting for him.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Antonia held a long-stemmed champagne glass tightly as she spoke to the kindly old gentleman whom she recognized from Aiden’s panel. He introduced himself as Robert and refused to leave her side as she waited for Aiden.

  “You made a very apt observation about Dr. Byrnes’s work. Tell me, do you teach in the States?”

  She blushed and shook her head. “Oh no, I’m afraid I haven’t taught since grad school,” she replied. “I’m actually in publishing.”

  Robert’s owlish brows raised. “Publishing? How wonderful. How long?”

  Antonia managed a smile. “About five years,” she said. “But I’m currently transitioning to the other side of the desk. I’m working on a novel of my own.”

  “Impressive,” he said with a nod.

  She tried to keep up her conversation with him while seeking out Aiden. She wondered where he was and if he was serious about meeting with her. Showing up in a lemon-colored summer dress to apologize to a man was not exactly her style, but his mother and niece seemed dead-set on the theatrics. As a result, Antonia stuck out like a sore thumb amongst all these academics. People stared at her as they drifted by, making her feel even more self-conscious.

  “Well, I thought it was time to try something new,” she said, trying to sound engaged. She was actually grateful that the elderly man stopped to chat. It was definitely better than standing around by herself.

  “I can understand that,” he said. “I’m in my eighties and wondering what retirement will look like.”

  “I wouldn’t look at it that way,” Antonia said, taking a sip. “I think we’re all capable of exciting change at any time.”

  “I hope so,” said a deep voice from behind her.

  Robert looked over her shoulder. “Aiden, come and meet this enchanting woman. My dear, tell me your name again.”

  A warm glow flowed through her body and she was certain that it wasn’t the champagne. “Antonia,” she said, turning to face Aiden. He stood over her flashing a beautiful smile. It had only been less than a day since they last saw one another, but his expression was that of a starved man.

  “Yes, Antonia Harper. She’s a publisher,” Robert said. “She’s come all the way from America for this conference.”

  Antonia kept up the act, holding her hand out for him to shake. “Dr. Byrnes,” she breathed.

  Aiden took her hand and brought it to his lips. She shivered as his kiss brushed the back of her fingers. “I’ve had the pleasure of bumping into Ms. Harper more than once.”

  “You know, Aiden,” Robert continued. “With Professor Brennan gone, we still have a vacant position in our department. I’m currently talking to Doyle about setting up a publishing track for our students. What do you think?”

  Aiden didn’t take his eyes off her. His hands still gripped hers, sending a wave of heat throughout her body. “I think it would be a perfect addition to the English major.”

  Antonia swallowed as she pulled her hand back. “It could give your English students more options on the job market,” she said, trying to direct her attention back to Robert.

  The old man nodded. “My thoughts exactly! Our Vice-Chancellor is just as interested in increasing enrollment as I am in expanding the department.”

  “You know, Robert, if you’re thinking of offering Ms. Harper a job, you’d better be quick about it.” Aiden’s voice was low and silky. “She’s very close to accepting a position as a head editor with another publisher.”

  Antonia’s gaze flew to his. What is he saying?

  The old man looked alarmed. “Is that true?” he asked.

  “Uh...it’s possible,” she said, searching Aiden’s twinkling green eyes. “I haven’t quite decided. My book has taken up a lot of my time these days.”

  “Oh my,” Robert said, patting his jacket. “If I may, let me put my bid in right now.” He retrieved a business card from one of his pockets and held it out to her.

  Antonia’s mouth fell open in shock. She looked from the card, to Robert, to Aiden. “Are you sure?”

  “We’ll have to do the traditional job search, of course. But I’d love to have someone from the industry at the top of the pile. If you have a current CV, please consider sending it.”

  Antonia took his card and smiled. “I’ll definitely consider it.”

  “You should,” Aiden insisted. “It will give you a chance to attend more of these functions. Academics in Ireland know how to throw a party.”

  Robert chuckled. “They certainly do,” he said, quickly swiping another glass of champagne from a passing waiter. “Doyle has hired a string quartet for a simple conference banquet. You don’t see that sort of thing often.”

  As if on cue, the musicians started. Antonia was still in disbelief, holding Robert’s card in her hands. Had she managed to land a job position while avoiding another? She quickly tucked the card into her purse with trembling hands. “That would be lovely,” she murmured.

  “I hate to steal Antonia away, Robert,” Aiden said, placing a hand on the small of her back. “But I was hoping to continue our conversation on the dance floor.”

  “I’m not a good dancer,” she said, looking at the open area where couples were already gathered.

  “I might be good enough for the both of us,” he said.

  “You two go on,” Robert said. “They’ve laid out more salmon at the buffet. I’ve got to get there before Maguire.” He left them before Antonia could protest any further.

  She looked up at him. “What have you done?”

  “I’ve created another excuse to hold on to your coat,” he said, taking her hand.

  Antonia was in a daze as she let him lead her to the dance floor. He took her empty glass and set it on a nearby table before resting her hand on his shoulder. He held her other hand aloft and moved slowly against her. “This could end badly for the both of us,” she whispered, keeping her eyes on their feet. “I’m wearing high heels this time.”

  “I’m sorry, Antonia,” he said.

  She looked up. “What?”

  “I want you to be happy...but I’d rather it be with me,” he said solemnly. “I’m so sorry I didn’t say that when it mattered.”

  A hot tear spilled down her cheek as she stared up at him. His eyes were earnest and warm with regret. She didn’t know what to say so she went back to watching their feet. She was amazed that she hadn’t managed to step on his toes yet. Her mind wasn’t on their movements, but on how she was going to say her piece without crying.

  “Antonia,” he softly urged her to speak. “Please let me fight for you still. If you want me, I’ll do whatever it takes. Only a coward would let a woman like you leave him without a fight. I don’t want to be that man.”

  She let out an exasperated laugh. “You’re right,” she said. “Only a coward doesn’t reach out and take what they want. I don’t want to be that woman either.” Antonia looked up, tears brimming her eyes. “I love you, but I can’t tolerate being with someone who can’t express themselves. If you’re hurting, you have to let people in. And dammit, you have to listen to them.”

  Aiden froze. “Did you say you love me?”

  She gave him a tremulous smile. “I did and I do.”

  He stopped in his tracks, still holding her hand aloft. “I love you too, Antonia.”

  “Then it’s settled,” she said, wiping her e
yes with the back of her hand. “Now we just figure out how the next step goes.” She promptly stepped on his foot and stumbled into his chest.

  He pulled her closer and tried to contain his laughter. “Would you allow me to give you dance lessons, darling? I’d like our future to include dancing.”

  Antonia’s heart sang in delight. Even though she was incredibly clumsy on her feet, she felt buoyant in his arms. “Can you say it again?”

  He wrapped her arms around his shoulders and held her by the waist. “I will say it every day for the rest of my life,” Aiden whispered in her ear. “I love you, Antonia. My selkie from Chicago.”

  “In America.”

  He grinned down at her. “I want to get out of here.”

  She looked around at the crowded banquet hall. “Don’t you have to stay?”

  “My obligation ended as soon as I presented that paper. A paper I couldn’t have finished without your help, by the way. You complement me, Antonia.”

  “You want to leave now?”

  “I want to love you somewhere private,” he whispered before stepping away to lead her off the dance floor. Her face grew flush as she followed him toward the exit. She gripped his hand tightly. Where is he taking me? Her mind was a flurry of excitement as they wove through the crowd. Before she knew it they were outside in the crisp cool air of a quiet garden. The sound of crickets and distant Galway traffic was their only company as they wandered through the tall rose bushes.

  Aiden found a stone bench that was out of view from the conference attendees. He sat down and pulled her onto his lap. A shiver ran through her body as he wrapped his arms around her waist. “This is lovely,” she said as she bathed in the floral scent of their surroundings. “You have a beautiful university.”