“You didn’t come through the airport?”
“Well, you know how it is,” I said. “Like, do you get to count that you’ve been to Dallas if you just had a connecting flight there? Do you get to say you’ve been to South Carolina if you drove through once?”
Technically, I hadn’t lied because technically, I hadn’t said I flew in through Dublin. But that was the implication and I knew it. It was difficult to answer his questions when something told meI woke up here in what might be a dream or amental health crisis or an international event, I’m not entirely surewouldn’t go over super well.
“So maybe you could show me around a bit today?” I’d said it more to move the conversation along, to get us away from any discussion of how I’d gotten here, but it wasn’t a bad idea. “Nothing that costs money or that you’d have to book tickets for way in advance. Just like…I don’t know. Dublin.”
Eamonn looked up toward the sky, like he had to really think about that one. “What had you been planning to do? The big tourist spots?”
I shrugged. “I figured I’d go wherever my day took me. I’m a very spontaneous person.”
Now he glanced back at me. “I can see that,” he said, and the way he said it, it was like he could literallyseeit, like there was something about my appearance that screamed outimpulsive. Which was hilarious, because if he only knew how far that was from me in my usual life. I was the kind of person who brought the same sad little prepackaged charcuterie to work for lunch every single day. But the way he looked at me, it made me feel like this other side of me was within my grasp, like I could be a more free-spirited version of myself here in this strange country, with this man who was a stranger.
It seemed like he was going to say something else, but then he just gestured toward the road. “I have to move the car anyway, so I’ll try to get us a little closer. It’ll still be a walk into the city center.”
“I don’t mind,” I said. It was amazing how much nicer the day seemed suddenly, now that I had a jacket and someone to talk to.
But he lifted his eyebrows, shoving his hands back in his pockets as he started to head in the direction he’d come from, waiting for me to fall in step beside him. “That’s your first Dublin lesson, then,” he said. “It’s good to not be afraid of some walking.”
Nine
We drove another ten minutesor so, circling various streets until Eamonn deemed us sufficiently close to everything, or at least until he saw available street parking and decided to take it. The spot was tight enough that I would’ve kept driving, but Eamonn expertly angled his small car into the space, bracing his hand behind my headrest as he straightened the car while backing in. For a second our eyes caught, and it felt like I’d witnessed him doing something almost too intimate. It reminded me of a time I’d looked out of my school bus window and seen a man at a stoplight, checking himself in the rearview mirror while he combed his hair. I’d been flooded with such tenderness for that man I still remembered it, even all these years later.
“You’re very good at parking,” I said, just to break the silence.
“I do a lot of it,” Eamonn said. Which made sense, givenhis job, and made me feel a little silly for having commented on it at all.
It was such a bright day, filled with sunshine. We walked alongside strips of shops, a canal with one of those dining cruise boats floating on it. As we got into what looked like more densely populated areas, there were any number of restaurants and pubs, people coming in and out of them. I had no idea which one Eamonn was leading us to as we walked along the street. Between the narrowness of the path and the people, I had to stay behind him instead of at his side, and he would periodically glance over his shoulder to check that I was keeping up before we got to a wider lane with more room.
On the corner was a restaurant painted in vibrant green and yellow, balloons in the colors of the Irish flag twisted all around the top. There were shamrocks printed on the green balloons, and I smiled when I saw them.
“I almost forgot it’s Saint Patrick’s Day on Monday.”
Eamonn followed my gaze. “Oh, we don’t forget. But some of that’s up year-round. The more touristy the place, the more it’s always Paddy’s Day.”
The fact that we were passing all these perfectly good places to eat told me that he had a specific one in mind, and eventually we stopped in front of a small place nestled in a row of connected buildings. A red-and-white-striped awning hung over the entrance, half covering a patio for outdoor dining that was currently occupied by one lone customer. It was still a little chilly to eat outside, despite the sunshine, but there was a vintage motorcycle parked next to the patio that I just knew belonged to that man, who probably wanted to keep an eye on itwhile he ate. Eamonn gave it a glance as we walked up to the restaurant, then looked at the man, and for a minute I thought he’d say something friendly likeNice bikeorWhat year is that?But he didn’t. Instead he just held the front door open for me as we went inside.
Apparently this pub was famous for having been mentioned in James Joyce’sUlysses, but to his credit, Eamonn didn’t blink an eye when I said I’d never read it.
“Nothing against Joyce or anything,” I said when we’d been shown to a cozy booth in the back. “I just never got to that one. Is it good?”
“It’s…” he started to say, tilting his head from one side to the other in an ambivalent gesture, flipping the menu over to glance at the back before returning it to the table. I waited for the end of that sentence, but he seemed to have no intention of finishing his thought.
“If you voluntarily readUlyssesthere’s somethin’ wrong with ya,” our waiter said as he came up behind us to take our order. He looked college-aged, with two small gold hoops in his ears and a name tag that saidJoe. He also seemed to realize that it was probably a bad idea to insult the book that had put his workplace on the map, and quickly added, “It’s obviously a classic for a reason, though. If you want the full experience, get the gorgonzola sandwich on brown bread.”
We ordered water to start, and the waiter left to give us more time with the menus, although I could tell he was itching to apologize for the James Joyce comment again before he went. Eamonn wasn’t bothering to look at the menu anymore, and I already knew I’d copy whatever he ended up ordering. Itseemed like the polite thing to do since he was paying for the meal.
“You said your power went out?” I asked to make conversation. I was curious about a lot of things about this man who’d just become my companion around a new city, and that seemed like a safe enough place to start.
“This morning,” he said. “No idea what the problem is. Nothin’ wrong with the breaker that I could see, lights are on down the street.”
The timing of it made me wonder if it was connected to me somehow, to my arrival. Maybe that was megalomaniacal, to assume that I could have that kind of effect on electrical currents. But maybe it wasn’t that outrageous, given everything else.
“Do you need to get back there?” I said. “I didn’t mean to take up your whole day.”
“Nah.”
When Joe returned, he set our drinks in front of us. “I just had to readFinnegans Wakein school,” he confessed, as if it would help explain his anti-Joyce sentiments.
