For a moment she closed her eyes and was reminded of cold mornings in Minnesota. Some days her mom and aunt both left the house by six a.m. leaving her and Jeremy to get ready and get the bus on their own. The first sound she would hear in the dark still house was the alarm going off in Jeremy’s room. Then she would wait for the second most important sound, the faint click of the heating and the even fainter sound of warm air being pushed into the room. It was followed by a light dusty smell. Then she’d hop straight from her bed to the vent on the floor. Huddling over it she’d pull her nightshirt over her knees and create a little teepee of heat. She’d sit there until Jeremy wandered sleepily over to turn on her light switch for her. Peeking over her bed she’d squint through the brightness to manage an almost-smile as he disappeared into the bathroom. Then she’d pull on the clothes she’d set out for herself the night before. There could be no chance of them being late as there was no one to drive them to school. Her mother was firm on that point.
“Do you remember those days Jeremy? The mounds and mounds of white snow? And the way your nose hairs would freeze with your first breath of cold air? And you would make me Quaker instant oatmeal for breakfast.”
He was there again, standing in front of the sliding glass door, looking out on Ireland.
Emily’s hands came up, hiding her face as she rubbed at her eyes. “I changed my routine completely after you died. I got up and went straight for the shower. The thought of the hot water caressing me was the only thing that could get me out of bed. For years I couldn’t even swallow oatmeal. Every time I put a bite in my mouth this lump would form in my throat and eventually I’d just spit it out.”
Emily laid her head on the table. “So this is Ireland. Melancholy fucking place,” and she tried a laugh. “Up, up, Emily, or this is where your husband will find you at six o’clock this evening.”
But she stayed where she was, her head a weight too heavy to lift.
“Mom tried to make me oatmeal. Real oatmeal, not instant, with cinnamon and raisins. And I refused to eat it. I forgot about that.”
From where she sat, head flat, Emily could see the phone. She could picture herself picking it up and calling. She could hear her mother’s voice. But she couldn’t think of what she would say.
She pushed herself away from the table and stood. It was an unsure movement that eventually carried her around the house. She looked at the plants she and Collin had recently bought, touching the leaves gently. She looked at their bookshelves already lined with neat rows of books. And she looked at their warm cozy blankets, her eyes lingering as she considered the fireplace. Then without any intention of doing so she moved to the window and her finger slowly pulled back the curtain.
She found herself peaking out onto grey cement sidewalks and grey cement streets and grey cement houses. “Shit.” Her tone changed halfway through the word. Something else had caught her eye, the bright colors of tree leaves beginning to change. Fall had always been her favorite season.
“The outside world awaits.” She hoped the words would give her courage but she still felt flat inside. Something was missing.
“You’ll come with me.” It was more of a question than a statement, but when she turned her head she knew what she’d find. Jeremy stood ready in jeans, tennis shoes, and his Detroit Lions sweatshirt. An optimistic smile lit his face.
After a quick shower she pulled on jeans, sneakers that marked her out as an American, her new favorite sweater, and a water repellent jacket. She stuck a few of the colorful euros Collin had left on the dresser in her pocket and grabbed her keys. She let the forward motion carry her out the door before she could change her mind.
She was met instantly by an onset of nasty weather. In minutes her face was dripping wet though it wasn’t rain but something between a heavy mist and a drizzle that hung in the air. She pulled her jacket closer and trudged on. Head down, she made her way to the footbridge and started across the River Lee. The tide was out and when she looked to her left the water was low revealing a shopping trolley as well as other pieces of rubbish resting in the riverbed. But when she looked to the right she could see the water flowing in a full stream, tumbling over rocks and making its way to the sea. She stopped, leaning up against the railing to watch it.
She hadn’t seen it happen. Jeremy had decided to be a counselor at a summer camp at the age of seventeen. She was twelve and having a boring summer at home. She spent her time reading books he’d left her and wishing he were around to discuss them.
She remembered the sound of the ringing phone. She was lying on the floor in the living room. She could picture it exactly. The sun was shining in on her. It was when they still had the cream colored carpeting she wasn’t allowed to wear shoes on. She had vacuumed that morning as part of her chores and it seemed perfectly inviting. She had a book open in front of her and she was happy. Her mother called for her to answer it, but she wanted to finish the paragraph.
“Thanks a lot Emily,” her mom said with heavy sarcasm as she picked up the phone herself.
Emily remembered finishing the page and looking up to see shock on her mother’s face and then tears. Without being told she knew something had happened to Jeremy. But she hadn’t expected it to be so bad.
Jeremy was dead. He’d drowned saving a child’s life. And Emily’s world was turned upside down forever.
For months on end she had nightmares about it. She could see him going under, see him reaching out, see the panic on his face, and she couldn’t help him. She woke up screaming almost every night.
Her mother eventually sent her to a therapist, a kind lady who gradually helped Emily through most of the stages of grief. She even helped Emily over her new fear of water. Emily told her that sometimes she still talked to Jeremy, that she still felt him with her. She asked if that made her crazy. Her therapist told her it was a perfectly natural reaction and nothing she should worry about. But her mother couldn’t afford to keep paying for the sessions. Emily had to stop going. When she didn’t have the therapist to talk to anymore her conversations with Jeremy became more frequent.
Emily pushed herself away from the railing and picked up her pace. She passed the Mercy Hospital where two women in bathrobes stood outside smoking cigarettes. Taking a right she headed out towards the college and one of the straightest stretches of street in Cork. It opened up as she walked. Moving away from the city center the traffic became quiet. She continued on deciding to go to the park.
“What’re you doing?” She could hear the amusement in his voice and it annoyed her.
“Going for a walk,” Emily answered defensively. She was already beginning to feel foolish. Maybe this hadn’t been the best idea.
“You’re getting soaked.”
“So.”
“So, as a figment of your imagination you can’t see that my pants would be soaked up to the knees by now and my hair would be a dripping mess. But looking at you is another story.”
“I have a hood on. My hair’s fine.”
“What’re you trying to prove Emily?”
“That I can get on in Ireland.” She heard the determination and frustration in her voice.
“Yeah, ‘cause you’re really blending in right now. If you hadn’t noticed you’re the only one stupid enough to be walking to the park in the rain.”
“Well then where should I go?!” Emily stopped and squared her shoulders to the empty air beside her.
“To a pub like any normal Irish person.”
“But I can’t take you with me to a pub. You don’t drink and I can’t talk to you there.”
“Then don’t!”
Emily turned around angrily and started walking back in the direction she’d come from. “I just wanted some company. Why do you always have to be such a pain in the ass?”
Jeremy started laughing. “Then find some company, some living and breathing company. And stop looking at me like that,” his tone grew harder. “This is all you Emily. Every single word coming out of my
mouth is you, not me. You know all of it. So go sit in a pub where you can have a drink and contemplate in your head like a normal person instead of out loud in the rain to a ghost.”
Emily began to picture the day her new family finally figured out just how crazy she was. How long would it be before they dragged her kicking and screaming to the airport sending her back to her own country? It wasn’t a pretty visual.
-
Collin sat in the office taking his lunch break. Kevin had invited him to go across the street to a little Italian restaurant but Collin wasn’t up to it. He’d considered going home to surprise Emily but found he wasn’t up to that either. He was moody and he didn’t like it.
He had hoped once Emily was settled into the house everything would proceed nicely. He pictured everything falling perfectly into place. Emily would fall in love with Cork and things like going to the English Market, or for walks in the park, or meeting some friends for afternoon pints. He thought maybe she’d learn to cook and eventually they’d plant a garden. Maybe she’d get a job or not, he didn’t care as long as she was happy. He pictured himself not minding work so much because he’d be content knowing he was going home to her. The whole scene had a nice rosy glow to it.
Of course that was all a load of shite. Instead he found that Emily’s mood, which had always been light and upbeat before, was becoming unpredictable and sometimes dark. She didn’t seem to be venturing out at all. And due to no fault of hers he wasn’t any happier with his job.
Collin stubbed out his cigarette and immediately lit up another. He hated watching Emily struggle. But it was becoming obvious that that’s what she’d be doing for a while. Day to day life was so much different for her. She couldn’t be expected to acclimate over night. And she was the type to notice all the little differences, to really take them in and feel them. And, while on the Aran Islands that had seemed bewitching and romantic, in day-to-day life it was sometimes a pain in the ass. But what made it worse was that she was the one in their relationship who made sure they talked. She was the one who poked and prodded until Collin told her what was on his mind whether he wanted to or not. With the shoe suddenly on the other foot he didn’t know what to say. She was so sensitive it was hard to approach her sometimes. The prospect of going home to find her sitting bored and unhappy on the couch was something he just didn’t want to deal with.
Collin picked at the sandwich and crisps he’d bought on the way into work without tasting them. Joni had warned him that married life would be harder than he thought. That he had no idea what he was getting into. That being with someone from a different culture would present more difficulties than he could imagine. And he had fought back every step of the way saying that she didn’t understand, that Emily was the one, and that things would be different for them.
But he was beginning to have doubts. He still believed Emily was the one, but he couldn’t help wondering if the move was too much for her. And the thought of Joni with her I told you so look annoyed the hell out of him.
-
Emily pushed the door open to find herself in a small yet relatively clean looking pub. It was quiet and homey with about five or six customers spread throughout. But what sold the place for her was the fireplace with the empty seat next to it. Her few requirements were satisfied. Emily pushed back her hood revealing a red nose and cheeks and made her way to the bar.
“Lovely weather,” the bartender said by way of greeting.
“Miserable,” Emily agreed.
“What can I get you?” He looked to be in his early fifties. His eyes were bright and his movements were slow but confident.
Emily stood uncomfortably mulling it over. She hadn’t actually considered what she would drink.
“How about a hot port?” he suggested, nodding at her soaked condition. “Something to warm you up.”
Emily blushed, wondering just how bad she looked. “Alright,” she agreed, “sounds perfect.”
“Go ahead and have a seat. I’ll drop it over to you.”
“Thanks.”
Hanging her coat on the back of her chair Emily settled in, possibly for a long stay. Once seated, she took her time examining her surroundings more closely. She found it humorous that it was barely twelve o’clock in the afternoon and she was sitting in an Irish pub waiting for her first drink of the day. Collin would be jealous, and possibly a little proud. She thought about texting him but decided against it. She still hadn’t mastered this new form of communication on her mobile and it would be more fun to surprise him later with the news that she’d actually managed to leave the house all on her own like a big girl.
Emily smirked at herself. That was about the only big girl thing she’d done. Her attitude lately was that of a child with none of the wonder and excitement and all of the tantrums. Is this what moving to a new place did to her? She remembered being sad and upset at times in Chicago but not to this extent.
Her eyes continued to roam the room and she couldn’t fight the uncanny feeling that she’d stepped back into the past. But it wasn’t quite that either. It was more like stepping into the past while coexisting with the present. She’d felt that way more than once in Ireland. It was heady and disorienting.
From what Emily had noticed in Chicago when buildings passed their prime they were torn down or gutted and something new replaced them. It could happen in the course of a month. Something disappeared and reappeared as something else before she even realized it was gone. The oldest bar she’d been in was something out of the thirties. She’d been told it was a speakeasy during prohibition. It had a secret back room behind a candy store where the drinking went on. Just that bit of history had seemed impressive at the time, but in Ireland there were pubs that had been around since the early eighteen hundreds. And when you walked into them they appeared not to have changed much over the course of time.
Emily liked that all the tables and chairs in the bar were of a simple wooden design. They had a used yet comfortable look. The lighting was dim but not too dark. Old paintings of ships and country landscapes hung on the walls and Emily got the impression the pub had actually been around when those ships were in use. There was a tiny t.v. above the bar that two old men in suits were concentrating on. The sound was down low so that it could be heard but didn’t dominate the place. A glance told Emily they were watching some kind of sport she’d never seen before. For a second it seemed like soccer but when one of the players actually picked the ball up and started dribbling it she gave up watching, confused. There was another man in his forties sipping a Guinness and reading the paper and there were two women and a child at another table. The little boy looked bored as he sipped his coke, but the women were deep in conversation.
There was none of the flash of an American bar about the place. No silvery metal or glowing beer signs. There weren’t rows and rows of different alcohols to choose from or beers from exotic places. But Emily liked the red and green stained glass windows on the door that said Guinness. And she liked that the bartender was playing a Beatles album softly from the stereo behind the bar. It was all very simple, a place where people of any age or station could go to relax with a pint.
“Here you are now.”
Emily smiled up as her drink was placed on the table. “Thanks.”
“That should warm you up a bit.”
Emily reached into her pocket to pay for the drink.
“No. No. This one’s on me. A wedding present.”
Emily stared at him confused. “But how-.”
The man smiled warmly. “It’s the least I could do for Joseph’s daughter-in-law,” he said with a wink. “He’s very proud. Brought in pictures two days after the wedding. Normally it would take him six months to get them developed. Now you just let me know if you want another one.” With that he turned and walked back to his place behind the bar.
Emily took a tentative sip still feeling dumbfounded. She let the warm drink slide down her throat and into her belly. Soon that warmth was spreading t
o all her soaked extremities. Unconsciously she slouched a little further into her seat glad she hadn’t wandered into one of the trendier bars. She knew where some of them were. Collin had pointed them out to her thinking she might meet people her own age there. But she wasn’t looking to meet people, not yet anyway. For the moment she just wanted to be out of the house and on her own. She decided she couldn’t have picked a more welcoming spot.
“So this is experiencing Ireland.” She knew the words were an exaggeration even as she thought them. Ireland was still too many different things for her to comprehend. She was no longer under the illusion that two old men in suits drinking Guinness at a bar could sum the place up.
Emily’s gaze drifted to the fire and her mind began to wander. “Now where were we?” she thought the words at an imagined Jeremy, picturing him with a surprised look on his face. Part of her knew she should just leave him be, but that part didn’t win out.
“I thought you were done with me for the day,” he echoed her thoughts.
“You thought wrong.” A tight-lipped look of determination spread across her face as she got down to business.
“Emily, I’m not a piece of luggage to be carried around.” He looked around the bar uncomfortably. “You can’t just-.”
“Shut up,” Emily interrupted, grounding herself before it became another pointless conversation. “You are whatever I make you and I need to get to the bottom of something before I can let you go.”
“Oh.”
Emily struggled with what she wanted to ask, trying to find the right words to pin down what she needed to know. “Who is my mother? And don’t give me that blank stare. I need help with this. Who is she really?” It was what Emily needed to work through before she could feel at home anywhere. Before she could believe she was wanted by anyone else she needed to understand why for so many years, the one person who mattered most didn’t want her.
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