by Brittany Bly
“Fancy a pint of gat?” she asks her accent coming out thick.
“A what?” I ask, knowing the confusion is written all over my face.
Laughing, she says, “Sorry, fancy a drink?”
“Yes, please. I would fancy a gat” I chuckle trying to imitate her accent.
“Oh, my” Alannah says, her laughter growing louder.
×××
My skin buzzes as my clothing slips from my body. A fog tangles around my mind as I stumble toward the bed. I’ve never been much of a beer drinker but who knew it could affect you like this. Pain registers in my foot as I fall forward, barely having enough time to catch myself before I completely make it to the floor. As the chair tilts, my laptop crashes to the floor. Whimpering, I twist; my butt hits the seat as I bring my wounded foot up to examine it. My poor pinky toe is bright red, and each time it throbs, I can hear it crying in pain. I can’t contain the words that come from my mouth as I limp over to the bucket to gather ice for a makeshift ice pack to calm the pain. I hiss through my teeth, bearing to much weight through my foot on the way to the bed. Climbing up, I make myself as comfortable as I can, propping my foot up and placing my homemade ice pack along the curve of my foot.
I lean my head back onto the headboard and look at the ceiling tiles. Well, there went my relaxing night. I let my head fall to the side, and I glare at the damn chair that caused all of this. Why is it even in that spot? My eyes scan the piece of furniture that I am currently thinking of putting in one of the huge fireplaces downstairs when my laptop lands in my line of sight. Rolling my eyes, I reach for it. It’s not like I’m going to sleep now so I might as well catch up on some things. I haven’t checked emails or anything since being here. Logging onto the hotel’s wifi, I give it all the time it needs to connect before pulling up my email. I’m surprised at the number of unread messages that have piled up just in the past few days. Sure I usually check it multiple times a day being that it is my primary source for work, but damn, who knew I received this much junk mail. I weed through the hundreds of emails, trashing the random shit that companies have sent. You know it’s a good thing for them that technology took over, could you imagine the money they would spend mailing stuff like this out to people?
There are only a few important ones left, one in particular caused my hand to still. The name Blaine Shaw is there in bold with the subject Missing You. My finger hovers over the button to open it, unsure if I actually want to read it. Though I would be kidding myself to think that he hadn’t been on my mind while I’ve been here.
Giving in, I open it; and I’m immediately taken aback at its length. He’s written a novel. Paragraph after paragraph describes how the tour is going and each show in detail. Details of how the guys have been doing and their ridiculous behaviors are also included. He provides descriptions of what he thought of each place they had seen, painting a vivid picture of the cities.
Then, finally, he beautifully explains how he has missed me.
I don’t know if I’m breathing. I took this job not only because it’s Ireland and it has been on my bucket list but also to have some space from the current situation in Seattle. But as I read the words he elegantly put together, I can hear his husky voice speaking through my mind. Shivers run through me as I read the last words, I miss you.
I close the laptop quickly and toss it back in the damned chair. I hug the covers close and pray for the sleep, I had moments ago, to return and take me away from the thoughts awake in my mind.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Hands run along my side, tracing the curve of my hip and down the outside of my thigh. I squirm as his hands explore up my ribs, grazing the bottom of my breast. My back arches into his hard chest formed to the contours of my body. His hand comes to rest on the hollow of my hip, slowly moving around to my flat stomach, pulling me further into his chest. Hot breath blows against my ear as a husky whisper says, “Can you feel how you affect me?”
I jolt awake – blankets are thrown every which a way and even my shirt has ridden up revealing my stomach. My chest is heaving as I try and calm myself from the dream that is wreaking havoc on my senses. Exhaling loudly, I run my hands down my face as I slowly come back to the here and now begrudgingly leaving the dream that I’m sure would have ended happily, releasing the much needed built-up tension from deep within. Frustration soon replaces the lovely feelings those phantom hands evoked. Pulling the covers closer, I wrap myself up once more huffing as I try to relax. My body is strung so tight, it’s impossible. Even awake, I swear, I feel him behind me. I won’t say his name. If I do, it gives life to the stranger from my dreams though he isn’t a stranger at all. Those large hands have explored my body many sleepless nights.
It’s been so long since I’ve been touched in any way such as that. I groan refusing to allow my mind access to those deeply stored memories. Throwing back the blankets, I stomp into the bathroom. I fling the shower door open and step inside, turning the water on an icy blast.
×××
Guinness is slowly becoming my new favorite drink… well, maybe it isn’t the drink itself that I love. Combined with this exciting city and the people that love it… perhaps that’s what it is. The other day, I finished the shoot and have spent every daylight hour since roaming the Irish countryside.
The Cliffs of Moher had been my first stop. The vast greenery lays atop the jagged stone rocks that stretch far below to meet the lapping waves. That dark water threatens such mysteries that I, myself, am not brave enough to explore. Standing at the edge of those cliffs makes you feel so small in comparison. Being able to stand there and look out over the horizon with nothing in view as far as the eye could see – that is something to experience. It’s one of the many wonders of this world that I feel privileged enough to have witnessed at least once in this life of mine.
I stayed at the cliffs for most of the third day, but as the sun began to sink, I knew it was time to go back to the castle and leave this small piece of heaven for another time.
My mother often told me of my Irish heritage from my father’s side, but I never took the time to confirm or deny it. That’s a part of my life that I don’t wish to dive into. Thinking of my father is just another thing that brings too many sad memories from those dark corners of my mind. But I’m guessing from my red hair, she must be right. I’ve always felt a pull to Ireland, unaware of the reason. Being a photographer, I appreciate beautiful things; and I always chalked it up to that, but maybe there’s a deeper connection. I guess unless I get the bug later in life to investigate it, I’ll never know.
My fourth and fifth day were dedicated to Wicklow Mountains. After watching P.S. I Love You I knew that was one place I wanted to see personally. The scene where they first meet, and she’s standing there looking over the fields of purple created a need inside of me.
When the taxi stopped, and I got to witness it for myself, I felt like Holly seeing the fields for the first time. I’m left on my own exploring the 20,000 hectares, or in terms that I understand, close to 50,000 acres.
I originally planned on one day, but once I realized the extent of the park, I knew one day wasn’t going to be enough. I wanted as many photos of the purple fields, towering mountains, and mirror-like lake as I can get.
My hand hangs at my side brushing the flowers and tall grass as I walk to nowhere in particular. The only noises that surround me are from the creatures living within. A large patch of purple comes into view just over the top of a hill. Taking my time, I descend the hill and walk into the flowers standing tall. I sink down, immersing myself within them, becoming one with them. How was it possible for one country to be so beautiful in more ways than one? Had God smiled upon it for a specific reason? I guess that’s one thing we will never know but for us to just enjoy. The flowers surrounding me sway in the cool breeze, allowing it to move them any way it pleases. They seem as content as I am to just be here.
I’m not sure how much time passes, but i
t’s too soon when the time does come for me to navigate my way toward the lake. The dirt path reveals things, that until now, I’d just seen online or in magazines. Small red foxes emerge from the bushes coming as close as their curiosity will allow. Rabbits dart across the path, seemingly frightened to meet someone along the way. The trail winds along, my pace being set by nothing besides the ticking daylight hours. Open fields span in front of me, the mountains stand tall like sleeping giants in the distance. Nestled along the edge of the field, visible from the path sits a tiny white orchid. I squat down and cradle its blossoms in my hand, so frail and fragile. I run my fingers along the petals which remind me of little bells. I swing my camera around snapping several shots of the small flower before standing and continuing along my way. The sun’s already directly above me, and if I don’t keep moving, I would be stuck trying to find my way back in the dark. That is the last thing I want considering I’m sure that the fox would be the least of my worries.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Alannah is waiting within the small sitting area inside the castle as I walk through the door. She meets me halfway, each of us waving slightly.
“Hi,” Alannah greets me.
“Hey,” I reply.
“Figured I would come by to grab you up and take you to a pub,” she says grinning “Since you’re only here for a’nother day or so.”
“I’m starving… will there be food there?” I ask, my stomach growling as the words leave my mouth.
“Of course,” she says her grin turning into a full-on smile.
“Lead the way” I follow her back into the chilly night.
×××
I remember this building from the first night in Dublin. Its brightly colored exterior stuck out on the way to the Ha’Penny bridge. Come to find out it’s called The Temple Bar. We grab a small table and Alannah explains its rich history while we order some Irish whiskey.
Live music plays in the corner, middle-aged men strum on guitars, and one is even on the fettle. Their passion vibrates the walls as their feet stomp across the wooden floor of the stage. Soon the crowd joins in stomping along with the beat of the music. These people… not just the people here in this bar but the citizens of Ireland are so joyous. It’s like they count their blessings for each moment they’re alive and well… on this planet. If only Americans felt this happy and content with life. We worry about every detail of every day, stressing about every little thing. We end up missing out on moments like this. There’s nothing special about tonight, but the people here have made it into something special.
I sip on the whiskey Alannah graciously purchased for me. I sit back and watch appreciating my time in this small bar, enjoying my time with the people here that are no more than strangers. As the night moves on, I make friends thousands of miles from home. People that need nothing from me in return besides kind words and a shared laugh.
We spend several hours at the bar before it’s time to go. For the sun has long set and I’ve just one more short day left before it’s back to the hustle of Seattle and the drama that lingers there. I’m no closer to knowing how to deal with that situation than when I left. One of us is going to have to break, and unfortunately for him, it isn’t going to be me. My inner bitch would make sure of that.
Stripping off my clothes, I wander into the bathroom to wash my face and brush the whiskey off my breath. My reflection makes me stop mid brush, my face has a glow that I haven’t seen in some time. My eyes are alive with something I’m not familiar with. Could it possibly just be happiness? This country is just what I needed.
I twist my hair to the right side and let my mind wander through the newfound happiness. I pick up my laptop, cradling it to my chest as I climb onto the couch.
I don’t know how to describe the urge fluttering in my chest right now. I just want to know how he has been doing this week. Maybe it was the email… or maybe… I don’t let myself finish that thought. Google pops up, and I type Ashes Los Angeles within the search bar. A few seconds later there are hundreds of videos from their show. Before I know it, I have watched at least twenty of them – lost in Blaine and his ability to draw you in. Even though most of the videos are grainy and farther away, I can still make out the details that are him.
My heart flutters, watching him pour his soul out with each song.
I quickly slam the laptop closed and rub my hands over my face.
I may be in trouble.
×××
Sadly, it’s time for me to go home. I will miss this place, but I would be back. There’s no doubt about that. I hadn’t spoken to anyone back home since I boarded the plane in Seattle. I couldn’t wait to tell them all about it and show off the photos I captured. Framing them to hang around the house would be one of the first things I do when I get back.
Standing outside the airport, Alannah and I stare at one another. She had kindly given me a ride, and I try to think of the appropriate words to convey my gratitude. She did more than she ever needed to during my time here. “I can see why you came back,” I said, nodding toward the space beyond the airport, Ireland in general.
Alannah smiles nodding in understanding “I had fun in the States but… it’s not home.”
“I understand. Thank you, though, for everything. If you come back my way, I can return the favor.”
Her caramel-colored eyes shine as her smile, broadens, “Just let me know when.”
I reach my hand out, saying, “Bye, until then.”
“Keep in touch,” she grips my hand tightly. I leave her there, grabbing my bags and walk further into the airport in search of my terminal.
Chapter Twenty-Four
This is one long flight. I try to sleep as much as I can, but unfortunately, it doesn’t work as well as it did on the way there. Eventually, when I’ve had as much as I can stand, I pull out my laptop and begin editing the photos I took over the past week. Each as beautiful as the next, but one stands out the most. The small white orchid. I don’t know what it is about the little flower, but I know this feeling.
The last time was… well, five years ago, when my life began falling apart. I look down at the words spiraling around my left wrist I know nothing with any certainty, but the sight of the stars makes me dream. Some people believe Vincent Van Gogh to be insane, but I think he was just misunderstood; and unfortunately, people didn’t realize his artistic genius until after his death. To struggle for so long without any recognition, it’s heartbreaking.
This flower would be the next piece I add to my skin. Where, I was unsure, but I would find its place soon.
The little camera made three for me, joining Vincent Van Gogh’s words and once upon a time along the outside of my right foot. The orchid would be my fourth.
As the wheels hit the ground, I breathe a sigh of relief. The moment I turn on my phone, it explodes in dings and chimes. Texts, emails, and voicemails fly over my screen. Most are from Marissa wanting to know the instant I step off the plane and others are from Mom and surprisingly Blaine. I’m not even going to touch that one right now.
I hit Marissa’s name as I grab my bags, and I take my spot at the end of the line with the rest of the people waiting for cabs. It doesn’t even ring before her voice comes through the speakers “Bitch! You’re back!”
Laughter bubbles out of me, “That I am.”
“Where are you at!?” she exclaims.
“I’m waiting in line for a taxi, there are five people in front of me. I should be home soon” I reply wrestling with my bags while trying to maintain the position of the phone at my ear.
“Don’t worry with a taxi” she says casually.
“Really now? And how do you propose I get home?”
“If you would give me a minute, I would have finished my sentence. I’m parked down the curb a little from where you are now. Walk toward me, bitch.”
Sure enough, there parked several cars back is her red Tesla and she’s waving like a crazy person wh
en I do spot her orange hair. Jumping out, she runs to meet me, flinging herself at me, causing one of my bags to go crashing to the ground “I’ve missed you!” she squeals.
I hug her with one arm while trying to hold on to my remaining luggage, “I missed you, too,” I mumble into her neck. I pull back a little, enough to catch her eye, “Orange, huh?”
Sliding her fingers through the orange strands, she smiles, “It’s awesome, right?”
“Uh, yeah. Can’t believe I didn’t see you sooner… it’s like the neon sign outside Bryant’s shop.”
Marissa pulls completely away and slaps me on the shoulder “Okay, okay. I’m getting cold. Let’s get you into the car, and you can tell me all about it.”
She isn’t lying, you can feel the temperature dropping. Throwing my luggage in the trunk, I climb into the warm air blowing from the vents. Leaning back, I sink into the heated seats, letting it warm my bones. I tell her all about my trip – from the flight, to meeting Alannah, and visiting everything Dublin had to offer. She listens intently weaving in and out of traffic until we are parked outside the houseboat. She doesn’t wait for me to invite her in. Jumping out, she grabs one of my bags and hauls it inside. The house is dark, and I see Fox a second later as he darts toward me. I drop my bag and reach down, picking him up. His purrs vibrate through my chest and hands as I hold him close to my body. He can barely contain his excitement. He cranes his neck, rubbing his face against my cheek.
“Hello, sir,” I say, smiling my eyes meeting those of amber. Turning toward Marissa, I say, “Thanks for feeding him while I was gone.”
She waves a hand, dismissively saying, “I couldn’t very well let little Foxy starve, now could I?”