I glance back over my shoulder, but I know I won’t see Donal again. He has a talent for blending into crowds and disappearing. It’s part of why he’s good at what he does.
Which begs the question: what do I do now?
Who am I without my clan? Without my brothers? Without my Ireland?
The answer: I don’t fucking know.
I weave through the airport aimlessly before I finally stumble across the gate where my flight is scheduled to take off.
I check my ticket again and step up to clear the last hurdle. The last tether binding me to my homeland.
The hostess at the gate gives me a bubbly smile as I hand over my passport and ticket.
She glances over it, looks at my face, and then back down again to my passport.
“You’ve changed a little,” she remarks. But there’s no suspicion on her face. Just pleasant idleness.
I notice four cops sweep by behind me, but I keep my head purposefully averted.
“It was taken a while ago.”
She hands back my documents and waves me through.
Only once I’m on the flight do I allow myself to relax a little. Still, I keep my eyes open and my ears peeled. The other passengers board, settle in.
I don’t talk to anyone or even glance up. Nothing is certain yet.
Minutes tick past. We’re on the tarmac for so long that I start to get nervous.
But then the pilot comes on the speaker and apologizes for the delay. The flight attendants start their safety spiel.
I ignore it all and shut out the world until the plane takes off. And the moment we’re cruising through the clouds, I start losing myself to sleep.
But just before I succumb to it, a thought crosses my mind.
I should look out the window.
One last look at the only home I’ve ever known.
One last look at Ireland.
One last look at Saoirse, wherever she may be.
But I don’t.
There’s nothing but heartbreak down there. It’s not my home anymore.
It’s not anything.