B07F3S1H9W

by Eoin Brady

  Falling for someone on the road is intense. How many first dates involve him pushing you off a bridge? (Warning! This is only cute if intentionally bungee jumping). Everything is new. It feels like a month condensed into a week. Sometimes a day. There is little time for soft sentiment, not when you’re already learning how to say hello in another language.

  It’s a comfort to find familiarity or a brief port in a kindred spirit, especially when you travel alone. It is always nice to share your experiences. I share mine with you, my readers, but it never makes up for being present with somebody. I’ve got better at photography over the years that I’ve spent doing this, but nothing will ever compare to seeing something with your own eyes. Which is why I always insist you readers should set your sights on at least one new place a year. Get lost, if you can, no less than twice a month. Share secret places found along your route. It is human nature to want to share with somebody …

  Fellow travellers are one thing, but nothing in comparison to the sedentary few you may fall for. You catch feelings, but you don’t want to alter your lifestyle to fit them and often they can’t or just don’t want to change theirs for you. Road romances are brief moments of unreality but inevitably, reality infects it. Do you alter yourself so much to fit their desire that you no longer recognise the person you were before them? You have an ideal in your head. Don’t paint them with it, and don’t cut off the mismatched ends to make it work. A forced fit is no fit at all. Don’t put them on a pedestal. You might worry that you are feeling things too soon, they might see you as only a fling. Then there are times when the reverse is true. Feelings fade, the road goes ever on …

  Be warned though; everyone has their own intentions. Just because somebody travels does not make them a good person. I remember hearing a joke about a man that travelled to find himself only to realise he was an arsehole.

  Suffer the long-distance pen pals. You can learn a lot about yourself from love on the road. Time dilutes the affection and it ends with mutual understanding or apathy. You part as you met; by circumstance, the end is clear and clean.

  Absence makes the heart grow fonder for a time, but makes you conscious of the expiration date. Always be aware of the end before there’s a beginning, it will sting a little less then.

  If hints don’t work and they debate your words and reasons for ending it then the best way forward is ignorance. Be cruel to be kind. Go silent, stop communicating with them. If they cannot respect your wishes then they are not worthy of your respect …

  Diarmuid’s anxiety spiked. He was sweating in the cool morning breeze and knew he was on the verge of a panic attack. Where was I to see the hints? While she fucked me last night? Over dinner, or her desire to no longer be strangers? When she asked me to travel with her?

  His letter crumpled in his tightening fist, and that made him stop before his temper destroyed it. By reading her blog I’ve broken her trust. He put the note safely in his pocket. It was no longer his to destroy, but equally it no longer felt like it belonged to her either, this stranger she had become. It’s clear what she wants.

  A sudden thirst came upon him. Though he knew he was in no fit state for drink, it mattered little; he no longer wanted to be in any kind of conscious. His surprise plans for the day were forgotten. It is a cruel thing to see such potential wither to nothing. In starvation he had eaten a plastic apple.

  This island is too small, she’ll find me easily enough I’d say. I doubt she’d even look after reading that stuff though. Katie will know what to do. Diarmuid headed for the dún where the stage was being dismantled for a large bonfire that night.

  CHAPTER 16: THE STAGE BURNS

  Shade thought nothing of his absence over the course of the morning. If anything it made her excited. The last time he did this I found a hidden message to meet him in Galway for a night I will never forget. She searched everywhere for the letter he had given her but he must have brought that with him too. Nobody has ever written me a letter before. There was no small note left on the keyboard of her laptop either. She only hoped that he had not hidden it so well that he foiled his own plan. She envisaged a fire pit on the beach. I would have lured him out for a bit of skinny dipping if not for the jellyfish. Why should he be the one that gets to make all the plans? Shade wrote “collect driftwood for fire” on her to-do list.

  I’m going to tell him tonight. I’ll ask to see him again after the Hollow Ways job. It had been a few years since Shade’s last relationship. The thought flustered her. I’m not asking for that, am I? She felt sick. I am.

  For most of that day her excitement grew but by late afternoon it turned to trepidation. She expected Diarmuid to surprise her with another plan. Then she hoped he would. By the time the picnic pack for two arrived at her suite she just wanted to see him again. We are going to have to speak about these absences. She thought about that for a moment and what her job would mean for any potential relationship. I’ll give him a few absences before I start getting mad.

  Shade finished the last round of edits on a few blog articles and published them. She answered the most pressing work enquiries and got back to a few possible sponsors looking to advertise on her website. She rounded the working day off by moderating and responding to comments. There was little to no financial gain from it, but it kept the regular contributors returning.

  After a couple of hours she remembered the reason that Oliva took such a liking to this place and tried to get out here at least once every year; she could get away from everything. Shade turned the laptop off, picked up her camera and packed both lunches away for herself. She emptied the paper bags of clothes she had bought from the knitwear factory onto the bed. In Diarmuid’s absence she would devote the day to work. She had spent enough time in leisure with him anyway. She paired clothes together and planned shooting locations.

  She had developed a thick skin over the years for modelling in front of the camera but he had managed to get under it. Probably for the best that he won’t be present to make fun of me.

  She did not make it far before returning to her suite to leave him a note.

  I’ve not heard from you today, not a fan of your disappearing act. I assume we are still on for dinner tonight? I will meet you later then? Hopefully sooner.

  She hurried back and scribbled a few kisses at the bottom – she was feeling sappy. She had never allowed herself to set a precedent by waiting on others, and was not going to start now.

  It was a productive day. She posed in a grey jumper while looking over a stone wall. She got shots of her walking away from the camera along an old farmers path that was hemmed in on both sides by large wild daisies. One that she was particularly pleased with was her in a bright yellow jumper and red shawl standing amongst yellow and red nasturtium flowers. She wore a blue jumper on the cliff while setting her camera up at a distance to get both the sea and the cloud-filled sky in the shot. On an isolated round-stone beach she snapped a few pictures of her in a few knitted jackets. One atop a fractured piece of the island that the sea’s persistence had worn away. A navy one taken by the pier while holding a crab box next to a curragh. She was quick about that one for fear of a fisherman finding her messing with his livelihood.

  After each location she returned to her room, dumped the used clothing and changed into a different outfit. Every time she looked at the note and did not find that Diarmuid had made an addition to it, her hope faded a little bit more.

  The brighter colours she saved for the sunset, it promised to be a spectacular one. To kill time she wore a few outfits next to the donkey that guarded the smallest fort. She used the bike provided with the suite to cycle to the beach. She collected what small bit of driftwood she could and hid it in the sand dunes. Smoke was rising from Dún Chonchúir. What the island would consider a crowd of people was heading towards it. She changed out her camera battery and followed them.

  Word had spread across the island that they would be setting the unusable remains of the stage alight. Shade thought
the promise of a bonfire had drawn out more people than the actual play had.

  The sun was setting by the time she arrived. She had not cancelled dinner reservations at the Suites, yet. Curiosity at his absence had turned to anger. It’s our last day together. Then again he could be planning something romantic. It may not be our last day. She decided anger was the right option, she would choose time with him over romantic gestures, if given the choice.

  Walking to the dún she stopped to marvel at the sight of fire flickering higher than the walls, billowing in the wind. Shade sent her drone ahead to capture footage from the air. Inside the stone walls people stood along the boundary watching the fire as if they were part of some pagan ritual. She steadied her camera on a tripod and took a few tentative steps towards the burning stage. Already the heat was so strong it stung her face. She got some quick photos in front of the flames while wearing red. She hoped that nobody would be paying her much attention. So what if they are? It’s not as if I’ll ever see any of them again once I leave this place. She took a glance around to make sure that Diarmuid was not in the crowd.

  “What are ye at?” Shade turned and recognised her brief landlord, the man whose mother had reposed on the breakfast table. The new owner of the Bed and Breakfast on the edge of the world. Laura was standing beside him.

  “My job,” Shade said back, matching his tone.

  Laura elbowed him hard in the side and for the briefest second Shade saw a smile fracture the face that she had thus far only known to frown.

  “Don’t mind him,” Laura said. “He’s not as grumpy as he lets on.”

  A fiddler started playing a tune while the fire hypnotised the gathering.

  Another islander distracted the B&B’s new owner and they stepped aside to speak in Irish. Shade asked Laura in a hushed voice. “How are you getting on? I take it you’ve not gone looking for new accommodation?”

  “No, once there was a bit of a tidy up it was nice.” Laura winced at the insinuation that throwing the mother out was a tidy up. “Besides I didn’t want to go to the bother of trying to find a new place. He’s interesting when you get to know him and he’s off the bottle long enough to give you the chance.”

  They walked together away from the heat of the fire and climbed the wall. There’s only one entrance in, I’ll be able to spot Diarmuid if he turns up.

  The sun was setting so Shade sent up her drone again, this was an unmissable shot. She captured the sun while the bonfire raged within the walls like a scaled up campfire. She sneakily took a few shots of herself standing in the last light. Then she sat down next to Laura to watch the red tide of light ebb from the world, leaving cooling shoals of pink cloud. The brightest stars began to shine like the first prickling of frost across a window pane before spreading as night took the light.

  “So have you decided to go ahead with the blog or head back to work?” Shade asked.

  “Not sure what I’m going to do yet. Right now I’m enjoying a break from everything. I’ll journal my travels for now, pen and paper, and come up with a blog title on the road. I’d buy you coffee for the help but I think you’d prefer I use your affiliate links instead.”

  Shade winked at her. “You’re catching on. We’ll make a savvy blogger of you yet.”

  She spotted Katie and the troupe of actors entering the fort. A quick scan revealed Diarmuid was not amongst them.

  “I’ll be back in a second,” Shade said to Laura. Half way down the stone stairs of the fort to ask after Diarmuid, Katie locked eyes with her. It was only a brief moment but long enough to know that Katie had noticed her and was ignoring her. It was impossible to miss the expression on her face when caught off guard for that split second. Revulsion. That was the moment Shade knew something was wrong. Diarmuid would not be waiting for her at the restaurant in his rented suit.

  Shade stared at Katie who turned her back on her. What the hell has happened? She felt more confused than anything else.

  “Would you fancy joining me for dinner at the Inis Meáin Restaurant and Suites tonight?” Shade asked. “My treat.”

  “I’d love to.”

  Laura caught the landlord’s attention. “Brendan, we’re heading to the restaurant if you want to join?”

  “Sure I can make you food back at mine,” he said.

  “Millionaires these lot, lived here all their lives and not set foot in the building once,” Laura said to Shade, loud enough for him to hear.

  The meal was delicious but Shade had to force herself to be present and not think of Diarmuid. It was useless to try, she racked her mind for any possible cause for his behaviour. All roads ended with him using her. Then why the cold look from Katie? He got what he wanted and I got what I deserved for letting somebody else in.

  “Are you okay?” Laura asked.

  Shade looked at the sour expression on her reflection in the window. “I’m so sorry. I must look like I’m about to murder somebody. My head’s elsewhere.” Laura’s plate was already empty while hers was barely touched. The opposite applied to their wine glasses.

  When the meal ended Laura suggested the pub but she did not have the heart for it. “I’m having a drink on the beach. I collected some wood for a fire earlier … wouldn’t turn down your company, unless you want to go back to the B&B and Brendan?”

  Laura gave her a rueful look. “That sounds like a lovely send off.”

  “Oh you’re leaving already?” Shade asked.

  “No I meant for you. I’m going to stay here a while longer. Brendan does not know what he wants to do with the place but has offered me a decent rate for my room if I keep it a while. Thinking I might have a go at working online, set myself up so that I can do that while on the road. Until then, here is as nice a place as any to settle down for a bit.”

  Shade brought wine and beer from her suite and they went to the beach using small torches to guide them.

  “So how did Galway go?” Laura asked when they finally got the firelighters Shade borrowed from the suite to burn.

  “Not a mark on the memory, it was perfect. Ask me where he is now though and I couldn’t tell you.”

  “I thought you ended things with him, no?”

  “What gave you that impression?”

  Laura looked a bit bemused but shrugged it off. “Sorry, I got the wrong idea. Pity to hear it’s gone sour if it was something you wanted.” Laura lay back on the sand dune sending an avalanche of grains tumbling down beside her.

  Why did she think it was over? Have I been giving off a “solo travel means single girl” vibe? Shade set the wine glasses and bottles in the sand in front of the fire and took pictures of them.

  “The stars look beautiful from this island,” Laura said.

  “They do.” Shade filled the glasses, handed Laura one and clinked hers against it. Though I remember them looking brighter. The light of the fire played on the sand dune, their shadows shimmering against it.

  Back in her suite Shade lay on the couch in her sitting room. You fell for it again you idiot. She ground her teeth. Her head was pounding from stress. She had been impulsive and was paying for it again. She felt ill from too much wine but got up regardless and poured the last of the bottle into her glass and raised it to her reflection. “Good woman, better luck next time.”

  Sleep evaded her and the alcohol just depressed her so she took an old book from the small library and curled up on the couch by the fire. She could not recall the last paragraph or chapter but the act of reading distracted her, even if she was rereading the same few lines over and over again. Lying there she covered her face with the book and darkened the pages with her tears.

  CHAPTER 17: LAST DAY

  Knocking on the glass of the front door woke Shade. She jumped off the couch. How long has that been going on? She heard it in a dream that was already forgotten. Her mouth was uncomfortably dry, her tongue felt fuzzy and twice its usual size. She could tell it would be a day dulled by drink as every step sent ripples through her skull. She could
only hope it would not get worse. The pain and worry of an impending hangover was forgotten.

  Through the glass a bronze hen turned its head sideways to look at her and pecked at the door again. I wish you were on the menu, you… Shade opened the door and chased the confused fowl away. The sudden rush used up what little energy she had left and she hunched over with hands on her knees, panting, ready to stumble back to her bed. “Run you little bastard or I’ll have chicken nuggets for breakfast,” she huffed.

  When she turned she regretted letting tears brim and fall. Diarmuid was sitting on the bench by the side of the door, holding the envelope in his hand. She had most of her questions answered from his expression, he only needed to tell her why. She felt repulsed at the overwhelming sense of relief that seeing him caused her.

  How long have we been standing here in silence staring at each other? She lurched forward with a start and held the door open for him. He stood up and went in.

  “Hello stranger. How long have you been outside? Come to get your piano?” You idiot, keep your tone neutral, don’t lead him. Keep quiet, let him fill the silence.

  “I was outside for a good while. Could not bring myself to knock, or leave.” Diarmuid walked into the sitting room. He held out the envelope for her to take forcing her to unfold her arms. With that physical barrier down she noticed how he had not gone to her. Though not yet accustomed to his touch, the absence of it made no sense. She looked at his awkward, antsy stance.