“How many do you have?” She mentioned there were five kids at home previously.
“Four, ranging in age from twenty-seven to eighteen.”
“Holy shit. That’s a lot of testosterone under one roof!”
“You’ve no idea. Cursing and smoking are only two of the bad habits I picked up from them.”
I step aside to let a few people pass by. “It must be kind of nice too. I bet they’re protective of you,” I say, automatically thinking of Reeve. No one got away with bullying me at school because Reeve would give them hell if they even looked funny at me.
“They are. Mostly Dillon. We were only one year apart in school, and we’ve always been the closest. My little brother Ronan is in the band with Dillon, and he stays at their apartment in Temple Bar on the weekends, so I’m getting closer to him too. They can be clowns at times, but it’s good to know they have my back.” Throwing her cigarette butt on the ground, she stomps it out with her boot before linking her arm in mine. “C’mon. Let’s get you inside before you freeze your arse off.”
I don’t see Ash for the rest of the afternoon as we’re in different classes. She invites me to go for a drink with her and her friends later, but I decline because I’ve got my first physical therapy appointment this evening. I’ve lost a lot of strength in my left hand since the attack, and I need to work on building it back up again. My natural go-to distraction is designing and making clothes, and I need both hands in full working order ASAP. So, I’ve booked a few sessions each week with a physical therapist, and I plan to go shopping for a new sewing machine and supplies this weekend.
The rest of the week goes fast, and I’m enjoying my classes and hanging out with Ash and her friends. They have welcomed me with open arms, and it’s nice to meet genuine down-to-earth people with no agenda who accept me for who I am. So, when they ask me to go for a drink with them on Thursday night, I agree this time.
We start off at the Pav, the bar on campus, before walking to Grogan’s, a local bar that is popular with students and an older crowd. Ash goes to the bar to order drinks with the others while Catriona and I nab the only vacant table in the corner. “Wow, this place is like a throwback to the sixties.” I remove my coat and scarf and sit down on a low stool with a blue velvet seat. Wooden panels adorn the lower section of the art-covered walls. Patterned carpet that has seen better days covers the floors while old-fashioned lights hang from the white ceiling. There is no music playing, and the only melody in the place is the lyrical hum of many Irish voices. The place is packed. “Is it usually this busy?” I ask, peering at the eclectic local art on the walls.
“Yeah. It’s a popular pub, and Thursday night is a popular night to go out in town.”
“This one’s on me,” Ash says, placing a glass of Guinness down on the table in front of me. “I didn’t get you a pint in case you can’t stand it. The barman added a dash of blackcurrant. I find that makes it more drinkable.” She claims the stool beside me, and the others join us. She clinks her beer bottle against my glass. “Bottoms up!”
Gingerly, I take a sip, letting the taste linger in my mouth for a few seconds before taking another.
“Well? What’s the verdict?” she asks.
“It’s an acquired taste, for sure, but not altogether bad.” I don’t think I’ll be drinking much Guinness while I’m in Ireland, but I can manage this glass. I ask Ash to take a pic of me with it so I can send it to Audrey later. She has demanded I document everything.
After drinking half the glass, I change my mind. It sits heavily in my stomach, like I’ve just eaten a bowl of stew, and I need something more refreshing to cleanse my palate. They all tease me when I push the rest of my drink toward one of the guys and head to the bar to order a vodka cranberry.
“So, what’s your story?” Ash asks a little while later when we’re talking alone. “Do you have a boyfriend back home in L.A.?”
Stabby pains shoot through my heart, and bile churns in my gut. It’s a harmless question. A normal one. One I’m sure I’ll get asked again and again. But it instantly sends me drowning in an ocean of grief.
“Shit, sorry. I didn’t mean to pry,” she says when my face clearly conveys my emotions.
“It’s okay.” My watery smile says otherwise. “I had a recent breakup. It’s still pretty raw.”
“Were you guys together long?”
“Yeah. Over five years as a couple but longer as best friends.” I circle my finger around the rim of my glass. “We were neighbors, and our families were close. His mom died giving birth to him, so he basically grew up at my house.” I’m deliberately keeping the details vague on the off chance she knows any of Reeve’s background and makes the connection.
“Shit. That’s rough.”
“Yup.” I take a large mouthful of my drink.
“The guy must be a dope to let someone like you go.”
I think so, because I doubt Reeve will ever find anyone who loves him as much as me. But I can’t let my mind go there. I’m still way too fragile and the last thing I want to do is burst into tears in front of my new friends, and then have to explain. I’m not ready for explanations yet, if ever. “What about you?” I ask, desperately wanting to change the subject. “Are you dating anyone?”
“I’m not seeing anyone. I was going out with this guy from school for a few years. During sixth year, he broke my heart, and I swore off boyfriends after that.” I know from my research that sixth year in Ireland is the equivalent of senior year in high school. She looks off into space with the saddest expression on her face. “Anyway, Trinners has been great. I’ve been embracing my inner slut and sleeping with different guys, but I run a mile if any of them look for more. I had to commute from home during first year here, which made it hard to get with guys, but I’m living in a studio flat close to my brothers’ apartment this year, so I have more freedom.”
“I’m getting a feeling you and I might be kindred spirits,” I tell her, because it’s clear she’s suffering the aftereffect of heartache. Maybe she’ll have some tips for how to repair the fractures in my heart.