by Marie Landry
“Well then…” He starts to rise, but I yank him back into his seat.
“Fine, fine, no peeking.” My eyes return to the shamrock on his face, and inspiration strikes. I’m going to go full-on cliché for his shirt. I gather my supplies and get to work. From the corner of my eye, I see Kieran starting on his shirt—my shirt—and it takes all my willpower not to sneak a glance at his handiwork.
Ivy and Hugh join us as we’re finishing up. Hugh resisted the face painting earlier, using his ‘weekend scruff’ as an excuse. However, I have a feeling Ivy is responsible for the elaborate balloon animal hat perched on his head. I have no idea where Kitty and Petra got to, but I hope wherever they are they’re having as much fun as we are.
Kieran and I exchange shirts to a chorus of snickers from Ivy and Hugh. He holds up his t-shirt, smirking as he takes in the sequin-lined shamrock with the words ‘Kiss Me I’m Irish’ inside, along with a bunch of small shamrocks and red kissy lips. Turning my attention to the shirt he painted for me, I’m hit with unexpected emotion when I see he’s painted a giant cartoon sun, complete with cheesy smiling face. Written in script at the top are the words ‘I shine’ and under the sun he’s written ‘brighter than the sun’.
“I love it.” And god help me, I think I love him. This isn’t a new revelation; I’ve thought it many times before. I just haven’t said it out loud because we’ve known each other for less than two months.
I get a text from Kitty, who informs me she and Petra have been roped into helping with the game booths for the rest of the event. The four of us agree we’ve seen and done everything we want to, but I’m not ready for this day to be over, so I invite everyone back to my place for dinner.
“I’d suggest going out to eat, but…” I wave a hand at the unicorn head painted on my right cheek, then at Ivy and Kieran’s painted faces.
Kieran suggests he and Hugh go pick up pizza while Ivy and I head back to my place. Despite finding the suggestion a bit odd, I agree and we troop to our cars together before splitting up.
“What do you suppose he’s up to?” Ivy asks when we get in my car.
“I was wondering that myself.”
“Maybe he’s planning a special heart-shaped pizza to match the heart eyes he gets every time he looks your way.”
I’m in the middle of putting the car into reverse as she says this, and I yank so hard on the gearshift I nearly break it. She doubles over laughing. A sound that’s slightly too hysterical to be a laugh escapes me in response. “Heart eyes?”
“Well, yeah,” Ivy says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “The boy is clearly in love with you. And you obviously feel the same way.”
Stunned by her words, I shift the car back into park and drop my hands to my lap. They rest there for a second before moving to my hair, then back to grip the steering wheel.
“Mer. Love is a good thing, remember? We like love.” When I don’t respond, Ivy says, “Kieran makes you happy, right?”
“So happy,” I say faintly, staring straight ahead out the windshield. “I was adrift and then there he was. I was afraid to let him in, afraid to rely on him, but he’s…he’s my anchor. He keeps me from drifting off in a sea of grief, keeps me anchored in the here and now.” I look at Ivy. All trace of humor has fled her face, replaced by a mixture of understanding and concern. “It scares me sometimes how much I depend on him to keep me grounded.”
“It’s okay to depend on people, though.” Now she sounds like Kieran. How did I get so lucky to know this many wise people? “Needing help and learning to lean on someone doesn’t make you some distressed damsel who needs saving. It just means you’re human.”
I nod slowly, turning my attention back to the gearshift and carefully pulling it into reverse.
“You know we’re all here for you, right? Me, Hugh, Kieran, and all your other friends. And it’s okay to need us. You’re still learning to navigate a world without your mom. That’s scary and new, and it takes time. I didn’t have anyone to depend on when my parents died.”
My head jerks in her direction before my eyes dart back to the road. When Ivy’s parents died, she was sent to live with her aunt and uncle, who never failed to let her know they only took her in out of obligation. “I’m so sorry, Ivy.”
“I didn’t say that to make you feel bad,” she says. “It’s just a fact. But you have people who love you and want to be here for you. So let us. And don’t think it means there’s something wrong with you for needing us.”
I blink rapidly, trying to stop my eyes from stinging. Heavy silence fills the car. I want to get back to where we were a few minutes ago, so I say, “I wish I could hug you right now.”
She laughs. “Give me an extra long hug when we get to your place.”
So I do, and then we go inside and open a bottle of wine while we wait for the guys. They arrive fifteen minutes later, Hugh carrying two boxes of pizza from Luigi’s, and Kieran hiding something behind his back. When he motions for me to follow him down the hall, I traipse after him to my bedroom.
The moment I enter my room, he wraps one arm around my waist and pulls me to him for a long, deep kiss. “Today was fun, yeah?”
All I can manage is a breathless “Mmhmm” in response. Kieran grins and pulls his other arm from behind his back, presenting a bouquet of daffodils.
“I saw you eyeing them earlier today,” he says. “I asked Hugh to stop so I could pick some up. They remind me of you.” He glances past me to where the t-shirt he painted for me is hanging to dry. His smile turns soft and sweet as his eyes return to mine. “You really do shine brighter than the sun, Meredith. You’ve pulled me into your orbit and there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”
Now I’m breathless for a whole different reason. His words have knocked the air right out of me, and I struggle to drag in a breath.
Kieran releases me to go lay the flowers on my desk. When he returns, he faces me head on, gently gripping both my arms. “I loved seeing you have fun today. I know it’s hard for you to believe sometimes, but you really are a bright light. And when you smile at me…” He trails off and blows out a sharp breath. That soft, sweet smile returns to his face, turning me to mush. “What I’m trying to say is I wish you could see yourself the way I see you.”
“I wish I could too,” I whisper. “For what it’s worth, I want to.”
“It’s worth a lot. I know you’re dealing with some difficult things right now, but you’ll get there. I believe in you.”
“And you believe in us?” I don’t know where the words come from. I didn’t think I needed reassurance about our relationship, especially after a day like today, but I guess my subconscious has other ideas.
“I do. So much.” He closes the space between us and rests his forehead against mine. “All in, remember?”
“All in,” I murmur.
He straightens and presses his lips to my forehead. “We’ll talk more later, but for now we should go eat. I don’t know how I can be so hungry after all we ate today, but my stomach started growling as soon as I smelled the pizza.”
I laugh, giving him a quick kiss on the lips. “You go ahead and I’ll be out in a minute. I just want to put these daffodils in a vase. I love them, by the way. Thank you for thinking of me.”
“Always.” He kisses me again and sends me a cheeky little wave as he disappears out the door.
I pick up the flowers from the desk and sit in my chair. Kieran’s words replay in my mind: I wish you could see yourself the way I see you. I do want to see myself the way he sees me. More importantly, I want to be that person again. The girl with the upbeat personality, who rarely had to fake a smile or pretend she was okay. I want to be that person again for Kieran, but also for myself. Maybe that subconscious insecurity from a few minutes ago came from worrying Kieran will get tired of me being down, crying at random, not always being fully present. Sometimes at night when I can’t sleep, I lie in bed and look at him and think he deserves better. He deserves
someone who’s whole.
I look at the daffodils in my lap. My mom’s voice flits through my mind, saying daffodils remind her of me because they’re resilient. I used to think I was resilient; I thought I could survive anything with my head held high and my sunny disposition in place. But this last year has taken me to some dark places.
“They’re always among the first flowers to bloom in the spring, no matter how long or dark or cold the winter was. They stand tall and strong even after taking a beating from the rain. There’s something so hopeful about them.”
We had a long, cold winter. The first few months of this year felt endless, and there were times I wondered if the sun would ever shine again. Maybe what I’ve been dealing with isn’t situational depression after all, but Seasonal Affective Disorder instead. Maybe now that spring is in full swing, I’ll have a rebirth of my own and blossom like these daffodils.
God, I hope so.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“Are road trip snacks necessary if the destination is only an hour away?”
I watch with amusement as Kieran folds a pair of jeans, then shakes them out and rolls them tightly instead.
“Snacks are a necessity regardless of the length of the road trip.” I lean over from my perch on his desk chair and remove two of the five pairs of socks he’s stuffed into his duffel bag. “We’re only going for two nights. Unless you think your feet are going to be extremely sweaty or you plan to tromp around in puddles, I don’t think you need five pairs of socks.”
Some of the tension eases from his face, and his lips twitch before pressing together in a firm line. It’s his signature trying not to laugh expression. Sometimes it works and other times laughter bursts out of him.
“Why are you so nervous?” I ask, despite already knowing the answer. This is our first trip together, and even though it’s only an hour away it feels like a big deal. We’ve been together for almost two months now, and although we sleep together more often than not, we still haven’t had sex. This will be the first time we’re truly alone, with no noisy housemates wandering past his room at all hours, no roommate down the hall in my house, no work to occupy me until I fall asleep at my keyboard. Just me and Kieran, alone in a rented house for two nights.
Instead of answering, he picks up two t-shirts from the bed and crams them into his bag. A second later, he takes them out, folds them neatly, and lays them back in the duffel. Now I’m the one pressing my lips together to keep from laughing. He’s been twitchy and jittery all morning. It shouldn’t be funny, and yet somehow it is. Maybe it’s partly because for once I’m the calm one.
It’s been a couple of weeks since the fun fair at the college, and things have been great, especially between Kieran and me. I’m feeling much better…most of the time. I’m still dealing with some fatigue, despite sleeping well most nights, and I have moments where I get so lost in my thoughts I’m oblivious to anything or anyone around me. I also find myself still crying easily, but it’s getting better. Kieran has been patient and understanding through all of it, and I’m working hard to get back to the girl I used to be.
Kieran’s architecture and design class has been invited to attend a series of special lectures at Queen’s University in Kingston. Transportation and accommodation would have been provided, but since I’m from Kingston and know the city well, I suggested we go together so I could show him around between lectures. When he agreed, I made an appointment with the head of Birch Hill to discuss my mom’s continued care there, along with the funding issue. I’m excited to show Kieran around the city where I grew up, and I’m hopeful it’ll be a perfect mix of work and play.
With ‘play’ on my mind, I rise from my chair and wrap my arms around Kieran from behind. He tenses as I lift up on my toes, plastering the length of my body against him. “I hope somewhere in that over-packed bag of yours is a box of condoms.”
He jolts as if I just pinched him. A devilish thrill surges through me, prompting me to press even closer and nip at his neck.
“Meredith.” His voice is a low growl, mixed with a hint of pleading. When I don’t move, he rifles through his bag and pulls out a box of condoms, raising them to my eye level.
“Glad to see we’re on the same page, Mr. O’Malley.” I kiss the spot right under his ear and release him, returning to my chair. He watches me warily from the corner of his eye, then turns to look at me head on.
“You’re quite pleased with yourself today, aren’t you?”
A laugh tumbles out of me. “I am. I feel good.”
His face softens, a hint of a smile flirting around his mouth. He drops the pajama pants he’s holding and takes the few steps to where I’m sitting. Warm hands cup my face as he bends so we’re eye to eye. “We’re going to have a grand time.”
“I have no doubt.” I tilt my face up for him to kiss me. I really do feel good. Maybe it’s the prospect of a road trip; I’ve been missing my old life lately and the ability to pick up and go whenever I wanted. This isn’t quite the same as booking a plane ticket and seeing where the wind takes me, but I’m grateful for the short break and the change of scenery. I’m also feeling confident in my relationship with Kieran. We’ve formed a deep emotional bond unlike anything I’ve ever experienced, and while we’ve delved into the physical aspect of our relationship in many wonderful ways, I’m ready to be with him completely.
Despite wanting to hold onto him and kiss him forever, there’s time for that later. For now, we need to get on the road.
*****
The drive to Kingston only takes about an hour. I avoid the highway and take the scenic route instead, through small towns and long stretches of farmland. Kieran and I stopped for coffee and donuts as our ‘road trip snacks’, and we’re cruising with the windows open and a playlist I made blasting from the speakers.
I’m not the only one feeling free and frisky today. Kieran started singing along to every song, altering his voice between his regular pitch, a high falsetto, and straight-out shouting some lyrics. When “Stop” by the Spice Girls comes on and he not only sings along, but also does the dance routine, I nearly have to pull over because I’m laughing so hard.
It’s amazing to laugh and be so carefree. Spring truly does seem to have brought about a change in me. I crave more days like this, where I feel like my old self again. A splash of color catches my attention, and I take my eyes off the road for a second to admire a field of daffodils. The old me would take that as a sign from the universe. I decide to let the new me take it as a sign too.
When we arrive in Kingston, we head straight to the Airbnb we booked. The place is exactly as advertised—a cute two bedroom cottage-like house on a quiet street less than five minutes from downtown and the waterfront. I barely give Kieran enough time to set his bag down and have a look around before I’m pulling him out the door.
We decide to start with lunch. In the spirit of feeling cheeky, I take him to my favorite Irish pub, Tir Nan Og, a place I spent many a night downing pints of beer during my college days. The lunch rush hasn’t started yet, so we have our choice of seating in the cozy, low-lit restaurant. Kieran picks one of the few window seats so we can look out over City Hall and Market Square.
“This place is grand. I feel like I’m in Ireland.” His gaze roams the room, lingering on the polished hardwood bar with its gleaming glasses and bottles of spirits.
“That’s how I always feel when I’m here too,” I tell him. Without meaning to, I let out a loud sigh. Kieran tilts his head, one eyebrow lifting higher than the other. “I miss traveling. I used to be on the go all the time, always booking my next plane or train ticket, looking into group tours or out-of-the-ordinary experiences I could write about. I miss getting lost in a huge crowd or being so deep in nature it feels like I’m the only person on the planet.”
Kieran nods slowly. “It’s been a big adjustment for you.” It’s a statement rather than a question. We’ve talked a bit about this before, but I try to avoid the subject. Part of it is
because I don’t want to seem like I’m complaining—I’m fully aware of how privileged I was to do so much traveling for so long—and the other part of it is because talking about it makes me miss it even more. Kieran understands, though. He always understands.
Before I can say anything, the waitress approaches the table to take our drink order. Her welcoming smile morphs into a huge grin when she hears Kieran’s accent. I watch with amusement as she quizzes him about Ireland and why he’s here in Canada, and asks him to repeat certain words because she likes the way they sound in his accent. I can’t blame her, considering I still do the same thing.
As soon as she’s gone, Kieran asks, “Could you plan a short trip?” It takes me a moment to realize he’s picked up our conversation where we left off before the waitress came. “I know you were used to being gone for weeks at a time, but could you do a week or so? You must have friends all over Europe who would let you kip on their sofa.”
I think of Fiona in London. She shares a house with other tour guides who work for the same company, but she’s told me several times she’d happily set up a roll-away bed in her room any time I wanted to visit. Now that we’re Facebook friends, I’ve been following along on her adventures, living vicariously, and we message each other regularly. Sometimes that vicarious living makes me feel better, and other times it makes me feel worse. I guess it goes back to that whole masochist thing. “I’d definitely be up for a short trip, but I’m not sure I can afford it right now.”
When the finance issue came up with Birch Hill, it made me realize how uncertain life can be. Mom thought she was set for the rest of her life between her savings and subsidies, but that seemingly strong foundation turned out to be built on shaky ground. It was a real wake-up call for me. Once I started getting the regular extra income from blogging for On the Go Adventures, I went to the bank and arranged for a long-term savings account that yields surprisingly high interest. Between setting that money aside, regular bills, and helping with Mom’s Birch Hill expenses, traveling seems like a far-off dream that can’t be made a priority.