Notes from a Spinning Planet—Ireland (5 page)

He seems honestly relieved at my admission. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Thanks, Maddie.”

“The truth is, I’m not really that comfortable talking about this kind of thing. I mean, no one close to me has ever died. But I really feel for you, and I can’t even begin to guess how you deal with this.”

“No one ever does, not until it happens. Sometimes not even then.”

“Sid told me that your dad died too, back when you were still pretty young.”

“That wasn’t the same,” he says. “I was just a baby, and I don’t even remember him.”

“Still, it must be hard having both your parents gone.”

He nods. “Yeah. I’m not really looking forward to holidays.”

“Holidays with the family can be highly overrated.”

He sorta laughs. “Well, maybe I’ll connect with some of my dad’s family while I’m here.”

“Do you know any of them?”

He shakes his head. “Not at all. My dad was raised in the U.S. He came over here when he was about my age. That’s when he met my mom.”

“They met in Ireland?”

“Northern Ireland.”

“That’s kind of romantic.”

He shrugged. “I guess.”

“But then they went back to America?”

“Yes, after they got married. Then after I was born, he came back.”

“Your dad came back here? To Ireland?”

“Yeah.” He frowns now.

“Without you and your mom?”

“Pretty much. It was supposed to be a short trip, some kind of business…not something my mom ever talked about much.”

“Oh.”

“Then he never came back.”

“He never came back? You mean he just abandoned you and your mom, Ryan? I thought he died.”

“He did die. He died in Northern Ireland.”

“Wow.” I stare at him. “I had no idea.”

“Well, it happened a long time ago. I don’t think about it much. It’s not really part of my life, you know. And then the thing with my mom…Well, it was a bigger deal losing her.”

“Yeah.” Still, I’m thinking its strange that Ryan’s dad returned to Ireland and died here. I want to ask him more about it, but he doesn’t seem like he wants to go there right now. Since he’s not even over his mom.

“So, do you think that’s what Sid was dealing with this afternoon?” I’m trying to get the conversation back on track. “Just remembering your mom?”

“Maybe.” But something in his expression doesn’t convince me. Or maybe he’s still thinking about his dad. I’m starting to see this guy is a bit of a mystery.

“Could it be something else?” I persist. “I mean, with Sid.”

He takes another swig of beer. “Has Sid ever told you about Ian?”

“Ian?”

“Ian McMahan.”

“Who’s that?”

“She’s never mentioned him?”

“No. But you’ve got me curious now. Who is Ian McMahan?”

“Well, maybe I shouldn’t say anything if she—”

“No,” I insist, “you brought up the name. Now you better tell me about this guy.”

“Well, a few weeks before my mom died, Sid came over to stay with us and help out. Sometimes the two of them would stay up late, like when my mom was having a hard time sleeping and the meds weren’t working. They talked a lot about Ireland and my mom and dad, and one time I overheard them talking about this Irish guy named Ian McMahan. It sounded like he was Sid’s big true love. They met in Northern Ireland, but then something went wrong between them. I’m not sure what exactly. But I’m guessing by the way they talked that Ian McMahan broke Sid’s heart.”

“Oh.” Oddly enough, this actually makes some sense. “You know, I’ve always wondered why Sid never married.”

“Yeah, she’s a pretty cool lady.”

“It kinda makes sense that she could’ve been getting over some relationship that went sideways. But on the other hand, that was a long, long time ago.”

“Some loves seem to last forever.”

I think of my parents and wonder if maybe he’s right.

“It makes sense that being here in Ireland might bring those memories back.”

“Yeah. I bet you’re right, Ryan. I’m just not sure what to do.”

“I don’t think you need to
do
anything.” He takes his last drink and sets the empty pint down with a thud. “You know, besides being supportive and understanding and giving her space. Sometimes people just have to work out this kind of thing for themselves.”

I’m about to ask if that’s what he’s doing. But he glances at his watch and suggests we should go.

I let a yawn escape. “Yeah. I feel like I’m about to crash myself. I must be running on fumes by now.”

“That’s what comes from staying awake during the flight.” He picks up the bill.

“Wait,” I say, reaching for my bag. “I’ll get my own—”

“This one’s on me, Maddie.” He drops several euros on the table. “And maybe you’ll let me buy you a Guinness before this trip is over.”

I kind of roll my eyes at him. “Yeah, sure. I’ll keep you posted on that one.”

We find Sid in the lobby when we get back to the inn. She smiles when she sees us. “Hey, I thought you guys had run off without me.”

“Just checking the place out,” I tell her.

“Great sweater, Maddie. Did you get that in town?”

I do a little spin. “Yeah, I promised Mom I’d get a fisherman’s knit. It’s supposed to be her early birthday present to me. I wasn’t too sure at first, but I think I actually like it. Plus it’s warm.”

“She looks like she belongs here now,” says Ryan. “Guess I should go see if they have anything for guys there.”

“They do,” I tell him. “You should check it out.”

“Anybody hungry?” asks Sid. “I heard there’s a traditional Irish band playing at O’Hara’s tonight.”

“Where’s that?” asks Ryan.

“Just a few blocks from here,” she tells us. “I was going to run down to the market for a couple of things before it closes. Can you guys be ready to go to O’Hara’s around seven then?”

“Sounds good to me,” I tell her. “Maybe I can grab a quick nap in the meantime.”

So it’s all settled. Ryan decides to go to the store with her, but I trudge up the three flights of stairs and collapse on my bed. It seems like I’ve barely fallen asleep before my aunt is nudging me and saying it’s time to go.

I feel like I’m in an Irish fog or suffering jet lag, but my head starts to clear as we walk the few blocks to O’Hara’s. And once we’re inside and seated, the sound of lively music and the smell of food wake me up even more.

“What time is it back home?” I ask as we peruse the menu.

“You’re not supposed to think about that,” says Ryan.

“That’s right.” Sid nods. “It won’t mess with your head as much if you just go with the flow and forget what time it is back home.”

“But what if I want to call my mom? I mean, I don’t want to wake her up in the middle of the night.” I point to the clock above the big rock fireplace. “So, do I go forward or backward?”

“They’re eight hours
behind
Ireland,” my aunt says as she sets her menu aside. “It’s still morning there.”

I try to process this and finally realize that my aunt and Ryan are probably right. I should forget about the time difference. And I really hadn’t planned to call my mom anyway. “No news is good news,” my no-nonsense dad had pointed out before I left. “If you call, it should be because something is wrong.”

Once again our food is really good. I can’t wait to tell Katie that she was so wrong about this. Of course, she never made it over to Ireland either. And like my aunt says, Ireland is
not
England. Although it does feel a little strange to be eating in a bar, or rather a
pub
. There are families with children here, though, and I realize it’s really no big deal. While we’re eating, the music really kicks in, and I discover that I like Irish music. It’s lively, and the drums, which look like giant tambourines, sound very cool.

“I think I might have to get one of those drums,” says Ryan while the band takes a break.

“Are you a musician?” I ask.

“I play guitar and bass,” he says.

“Really?” For some reason this surprises me. “I play guitar too.”

My aunt winks at me. “See, I told you that you guys have some things in common.”

Then the waiter comes back to our table to see if we want anything else, and to my surprise, both my aunt and Ryan order a Guinness.

“And for the young lady?” The waiter looks at me.

“Nothing, thank you,” I say crisply, not even trying to conceal my irritation.

My aunt jokes that she has to have at least one Irish beer while in Ireland. “When in Rome…,” she says lightly and, I’m sure, for my benefit.

Even so, I find this whole thing unsettling. I’m not even sure why exactly. It’s not like she’s going to be driving or anything, not that one beer would impair her anyway. But, just the same, it bugs me. And it really bugs me that Ryan, who would be underage back home, can drink as much beer as he wants here, and it’s totally legal.

When the band comes back to play, I find that I don’t enjoy it nearly as much as before. It’s like I’m mad or hurt or something, and even though I tell myself I’m being really silly about this whole beer thing, it’s like I can’t get over it. Not only that, but I feel like odd girl out. Not just because of the beer either. It’s like both of them have these Irish connections—and secrets. And I’m just along for the ride. Extra baggage. But why?

I sit here watching them as they sip their stouts and chat as if it’s no big deal. Part of me wants to just chill and accept this behavior, but the truth is, I think I’m judging them. Like I somehow think I’m better than they are because I’m
not
drinking. And yet I know that Christians aren’t supposed to judge others.

Of course, this thought makes me face up to the fact that I haven’t really been living much like a Christian myself lately. Being in college and helping on the farm, combined with all my Christian
friends being away at school, well, it was easy to let things slide. Even so, I
know
I’m a Christian. Just not a very good one, I guess. But at least I’m not a boozing Christian!

Okay, I’m not really sure why I’m thinking about all this right now, but I guess I seem pretty checked out to Ryan and my aunt. Or maybe they checked out on me. Who knows? But when our evening at the pub finally comes to an end and we’re walking back to the inn, I’m pretty quiet.

“You okay, Maddie?” My aunt wraps an arm around my shoulders and gives me a little squeeze.

“Yeah,” I tell her. “Just tired, I guess.”

“Not homesick?”

“No. Just exhausted.” Okay, maybe that’s not the whole truth, but it’s not a lie either. And it’s not like I’m going to admit that I feel left out right now.

“Well, I’m sure you’ll sleep like a baby tonight.”

As it turns out, she’s right. I think I was asleep before I even hit the bed.

Y
ou’ve got my cell phone number if you need me,” my aunt says as she shoves her laptop and some papers into her briefcase.

“Yeah, yeah,” I say from where I’m still lazing in bed. “Don’t worry, Sid. Ryan and I will be okay on our own today. We won’t get arrested or anything.”

“That’s so relieving, Maddie.”

“Seriously, we’ll be fine.”

“If all goes well, I expect to be home around fiveish,” she calls as she heads out the door. “You guys have fun, okay?”

“Okay,” I call back as the door closes behind her. Then I flop back into my soft feather pillow and close my eyes and let out a great big sigh.
Jet lag
. I’m sure that has something to do with how I’m feeling right now. It’s like I’m tired, but I’m not really sleepy. I’m kinda hungry, but I can’t think of anything I want to eat. And my head feels sort of fuzzy, and my ears are still ringing from the flight.

Finally I force myself to get up. It’s only eight and a lot earlier than I’d normally get up during summer break. That is, unless my dad’s after me to help with something like haying. Then it’s the crack of dawn or sooner.

This room doesn’t have a TV, and while that’s kind of refreshing and surprisingly peaceful, I still feel curious about what’s going on in the bigger world. My mom usually has a news show going in the morning, and it seems I pick up on the latest by some sort of osmosis. Eventually I force myself into the bathroom and turn on the shower. Everything in here is very old, with exposed painted pipes and tiles that look ancient. The water comes out in a slow dribble, but at least it’s hot. Since there’s no hurry, I figure a slow, drippy, hot shower is better than nothing. It does feel good to get rid of yesterday’s flight grime.

By the time I get dressed and make it downstairs, Ryan is sitting like a king at the head of a long table. His plate is loaded with bacon and eggs and some good-looking pastries.

“Leave any for me?”

“This is seconds for me, and I’m actually considering thirds,” he says as he takes a bite of bacon. “You better hurry and get some while you can.”

Fortunately there is plenty of food left. And despite my earlier feeling of not being hungry, I heap my plate and manage to eat almost all of it.

“I was thinking about renting a bike this morning,” he informs me as we’re both finishing up, “and then riding over to where the ferry leaves for Inishbofin.”

“Inish what?”

“Inishbofin.” He holds up a brochure. “Apparently it’s an island. They have ferries that go out several times a day. You wanna give it a try?”

“Sure.” I push my empty plate aside and study the brochure. It looks like a pretty place. “I could use some exercise after all this food.”

“It looks like it might take an hour or more to bike there,” Ryan informs me as he folds the map and slips it into his pocket. “You up for that?”

“Sure,” I tell him. “After sitting for most of the day yesterday, it’ll feel good to move around and get the lead out.”

“Speaking of lead, want to get some coffee someplace else?” He lowers his voice. “The food here is great, but I think they could use some help with their java.”

I nod. “Yeah, I agree. Let me get my backpack, and I’ll be ready to go.”

I jog up the three flights of stairs and notice that I’m slightly winded when I get to our room. I just hope I have what it takes to make this bike ride today.

I take a few seconds to brush my teeth and put on some lip gloss. Okay, not exactly primping, but I guess I sort of care what Ryan thinks of me. I’d attempt to do something with my hair, but with this damp air bringing out all the natural curl, it looks beyond help. Just in case it decides to get worse, I stick a scrunchy in my pack. If nothing else, I can always pull it back. Then I grab my sunglasses and stuff a hoodie into my pack, and I think I am ready to go.